A literal artifact
I’m currently working on a book layout for OFF_press. Sometimes I prepare written materials for printing. It’s one of those things I do from time to time, like calisthenics, recycling, or eating a whole large pizza in one sitting. Anyway, the point is that I’m currently thinking about what makes a book readable. Not about the text inside, but about the letters on the page, the sheets of paper inside the cover, and how they should all be arranged and assembled for ease of reading. Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with my thoughts on the use of italics to indicate dialogue, or the increased use of the ellipsis.
But it occurred to me that books are tangible items with at least one intended use; books are tools. Which means that a reasonably perceptive person could deduce something about our culture, and perhaps about our species, from the way these tools are made, presented and used. A well-thumbed novel from the used bookstore says something entirely different than a hardback dictionary with a dent in the front from supporting a short-legged couch. A Greyhound bus ticket left in as a bookmark is not the same as an expired commuter rail pass.
Take a look at whatever book you’ve got handy. How has it been put together? How did it get to you, and what do you do with it? When future archaeologists dig us up, what is that book going to tell them about you?
Tags: books, existential questions, publishing