GalleyCat grabs the AP's coverage of Simon & Schuster's planned release of an illustrated edition of David McCullough's 1776. The new edition, which will retail for $65 and have an initial print run of 250,000, is set for a fall debut, and will feature "numerous pictures and documents, including paintings by Gilbert Stuart and John Trumbull and replicas of maps and letters and an early draft of the Declaration of Independence."
McCullough: "I hope it can mark a beginning of more of this kind of integration of art and history. I've tried, as much as I can, to encourage teachers to teach history this way - there's nothing like the experience of holding a real letter or diary in your hands from a distant time. It's the closest you can get to being in touch, having a tactile connection with those vanished people."
I like this idea, but it's unfortunate that they've chosen to abridge the text in order to create this new edition. The only saving grace to the abridgement is that McCullough's done it himself.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Book Review: "The Last Cato"
It would be easy to pass Matilde Asensi's The Last Cato off as another of the myriad Da Vinci Code clones flooding the book-market today. Unfortunately, since this book was published in Spain back in 2001 (well before the antics of Robert Langdon rocketed Dan Brown to the top of the bestseller lists), Asensi's work isn't quite as easily ignored. Published in English for the first time this year by Rayo (a HarperCollins imprint), The Last Cato is very much in the same genre as Da Vinci, The Rule of Four, and all the others which use classical literature to uncover modern-day misdeeds.
In this case, the misdeeds are a string of thefts from churches around the world - thefts of the various slivers and chunks of the "True Cross." The culprits: the mysterious Staurofilakes, a mysterical brotherhood charged with protecting the Cross when it was whole. But why are they now collecting the pieces? Answering that question becomes the job of an unlikely team: Ottavia Salina, a scholarly nun who works in the Vatican Archives; Kasper Glauser-Roist, a meaty Swiss Guard and Vatican "consigliere" (in the Godfather sense); and Farag Boswell, an ethnically-mixed archaeologist from Egypt.
The trio set off on a bizarre but entirely expected quest through the route that aspiring Staurofilakes must take to prove themselves worthy of the honor. Their road map? Dante Alighieri's Purgatorio, which contains the clues they need to make their way from city to city and survive the challenges that await them there. Dante, you see, was himself one of these Staurofilax characters (although how no one ever noticed the sect's ritual scarifications on him remains undisclosed), and using his text, Salina and the others go on their not-so-merry way, &c. &c. I won't say any more and spoil the plot, but you get the drift.
I must say that within this genre, The Last Cato is one of the better examples I've read. Unfortunately that's not saying all that much. While I found the fairly lengthy explications of early church history and True Cross lore somewhat appealing, it would be nice to know what's real and what Asensi's making up (the lack of a "Historical Note" is one of the major faults, even if it was nice to see her footnoting some of the various quotations she uses in the text). The writing and/or the translation is uneven, which creates some weird Spanishized Latin names that haven't been rendered back into English, along with a few rough patches of dialogue. I had (very) high hopes that the heroine's religious status would preclude the obligatory romantic subplot, but alas, it's here.
All in all, not an awful book (and perhaps slightly better than Da Vinci Code), but that's as far as I'll go.
In this case, the misdeeds are a string of thefts from churches around the world - thefts of the various slivers and chunks of the "True Cross." The culprits: the mysterious Staurofilakes, a mysterical brotherhood charged with protecting the Cross when it was whole. But why are they now collecting the pieces? Answering that question becomes the job of an unlikely team: Ottavia Salina, a scholarly nun who works in the Vatican Archives; Kasper Glauser-Roist, a meaty Swiss Guard and Vatican "consigliere" (in the Godfather sense); and Farag Boswell, an ethnically-mixed archaeologist from Egypt.
The trio set off on a bizarre but entirely expected quest through the route that aspiring Staurofilakes must take to prove themselves worthy of the honor. Their road map? Dante Alighieri's Purgatorio, which contains the clues they need to make their way from city to city and survive the challenges that await them there. Dante, you see, was himself one of these Staurofilax characters (although how no one ever noticed the sect's ritual scarifications on him remains undisclosed), and using his text, Salina and the others go on their not-so-merry way, &c. &c. I won't say any more and spoil the plot, but you get the drift.
I must say that within this genre, The Last Cato is one of the better examples I've read. Unfortunately that's not saying all that much. While I found the fairly lengthy explications of early church history and True Cross lore somewhat appealing, it would be nice to know what's real and what Asensi's making up (the lack of a "Historical Note" is one of the major faults, even if it was nice to see her footnoting some of the various quotations she uses in the text). The writing and/or the translation is uneven, which creates some weird Spanishized Latin names that haven't been rendered back into English, along with a few rough patches of dialogue. I had (very) high hopes that the heroine's religious status would preclude the obligatory romantic subplot, but alas, it's here.
All in all, not an awful book (and perhaps slightly better than Da Vinci Code), but that's as far as I'll go.
AbeBooks Adds LT Recommendations
Yesterday, AbeBooks and LibraryThing announced the rollout of "BookHints", a recommendation system based on LT user-library data. "When you now search for a book on AbeBooks and click through to a listing, you are presented with up to six recommendations for books you might also wish to read. BookHints generates recommendations based upon titles found on the bookshelves of like-minded readers who also own the book originally sought," summarizes Richard Davies at Reading Copy. Currently only about 10% of listings will have recommendations, but they're expanding rapidly, Davies notes.
Over at the LT Blog, Tim's got some more background on how this all works.
I think this will do much to improve AbeBooks' "browsability factor" - while I usually just go there if I'm looking for something specific, it's always useful to have good recommendations ... and from what I've seen so far, LT's various recommendation algorithms are about as good as they come these days. Yes, that means they're better than Amazon's. GalleyCat pooh-poohed BookHints, saying that the recommendations are "basically the same thing as Amazon.com's 'customers who bought this item also bought...' recommendations, only with book jackets! And based on the data from LibraryThing members rather than actual sales data, of course."
At least the author there notes a comeback from Max Magee of The Millions (link added to sidebar), who says "You shouldn't underestimate how much better LT's recs are than Amazon's... People buy books for many, many different reasons - as gifts, for work, etc. However, a book that is part of one's library is a totally different thing; it's most likely there because you enjoyed it or expect to." Exactly right. My recommendations on Amazon are always annoyingly skewed because of gifts I've bought (sitcom DVDs for my sister, children's books for my young cousins, &c.) - on LT, I don't have that problem. And neither will AbeBooks users.
Over at the LT Blog, Tim's got some more background on how this all works.
I think this will do much to improve AbeBooks' "browsability factor" - while I usually just go there if I'm looking for something specific, it's always useful to have good recommendations ... and from what I've seen so far, LT's various recommendation algorithms are about as good as they come these days. Yes, that means they're better than Amazon's. GalleyCat pooh-poohed BookHints, saying that the recommendations are "basically the same thing as Amazon.com's 'customers who bought this item also bought...' recommendations, only with book jackets! And based on the data from LibraryThing members rather than actual sales data, of course."
At least the author there notes a comeback from Max Magee of The Millions (link added to sidebar), who says "You shouldn't underestimate how much better LT's recs are than Amazon's... People buy books for many, many different reasons - as gifts, for work, etc. However, a book that is part of one's library is a totally different thing; it's most likely there because you enjoyed it or expect to." Exactly right. My recommendations on Amazon are always annoyingly skewed because of gifts I've bought (sitcom DVDs for my sister, children's books for my young cousins, &c.) - on LT, I don't have that problem. And neither will AbeBooks users.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Morgan Library Profiled on CBS
The J.P. Morgan Library & Museum, recently renovated (it reopened almost a year ago), was the subject of a profile by Morley Safer on CBS' "The Early Show" over the weekend.
"With an additional 75,000 square feet of space, this special place can now show off its vast collection which is made up of more than 350,000 objects - from centuries-old miniatures and medieval art, to illuminated manuscripts, jeweled bindings, sacred books and classics of our culture. Their museum showcases works by Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Edgar Allen Poe, Henry David Thoreau, Beatrix Potter and the elegant elephant Babar - not to mention Mozart, Beethoven and Bach."
The library was designed by Charles McKim, and was built 1902-6. It was opened to the public by J.P. Morgan, Jr. in 1924.
[h/t: Larry Nix, Library History Buff]
"With an additional 75,000 square feet of space, this special place can now show off its vast collection which is made up of more than 350,000 objects - from centuries-old miniatures and medieval art, to illuminated manuscripts, jeweled bindings, sacred books and classics of our culture. Their museum showcases works by Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Edgar Allen Poe, Henry David Thoreau, Beatrix Potter and the elegant elephant Babar - not to mention Mozart, Beethoven and Bach."
The library was designed by Charles McKim, and was built 1902-6. It was opened to the public by J.P. Morgan, Jr. in 1924.
[h/t: Larry Nix, Library History Buff]
Rare "He" Bible to be Sold
The Victoria (BC) Times-Columnist reports that a rare variant copy of the 1611 King James Bible owned by the Greater Victoria Public Library will go under the hammer at Sotheby's in June. In this variant, the word "he" is used where "she" should have been in Ruth 3:5 ("And she said unto her, All that thou sayest unto me I will do"), increasing the book's value greatly. Other copies of the "He" Bible have sold for up to $400,000. The paper reports that Sotheby's "was so keen to auction the book", they reduced their commission rate on it, and will begin the bidding at $40,000.
Proceeds of the sale will create an endowment at the library to honor former newspaper editor T. Harry Wilson, who donated the Bible in 1944. Until recently, the book was stored in a "regular storage room" in the library; after discovering the item, the staff realized they couldn't care for it properly and decided to put it up for sale.
About fifty copies of this variant are known to exist (38 are listed in ESTC).
Proceeds of the sale will create an endowment at the library to honor former newspaper editor T. Harry Wilson, who donated the Bible in 1944. Until recently, the book was stored in a "regular storage room" in the library; after discovering the item, the staff realized they couldn't care for it properly and decided to put it up for sale.
About fifty copies of this variant are known to exist (38 are listed in ESTC).
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Book Review: "Hakluyt's Promise"
It's not often that I would go out on a limb as early as the first days of March and write that I have found one of my top books of the year. But I'll make an exception in this case, and have absolutely no hesitation in doing so. Peter Mancall's Hakluyt's Promise: An Elizabethan's Obsession for an English America (just out from Yale University Press) is a well-written, meticulously-researched account of the life of the man who rates as the single more important figure in creating the "spirit of colonization" in England during the latter years of Elizabeth I's reign.
Richard Hakluyt, educated as a cleric, spent the majority of his life collecting, translating, and publishing travel accounts. These included the writings of those who explored the East Indies, China, and Russia (among other places) - but the Americas quickly became his main focal point. Long before it was popular, Hakluyt saw the potential for English expansion (both in terms of trade, colonization, and the extension of Protestantism) in the northern portions of America, and he worked relentlessly to promote that potential.
Through the publication of his collections of travel accounts - Divers Voyages touching upon America (1582), The Principall Navigations, Voiages, and Discoveries of the English Nation (1589), and a greatly-expanded and more America-centered version of the latter published as The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques and Discoveries of the English Nation (3v., 1598-1600) - not to mention the many other accounts of which he encouraged publication, arranged translation or supported with his imprimatur, Hakluyt laid the groundwork for
the system of English colonization that would begin with the attempts at Roanoke and finally succeed (after a fashion) with the Jamestown settlement.
Carefully using a variety of contemporary sources to fill in the documentary gaps which surround Hakluyt (and they are many), Mancall has managed to recreate his remarkable life. Though he never traveled farther abroad than Paris (he was granted permission to go to Virginia in 1606, but didn't go, never saying why), Hakluyt became - through his extensive reading and publication on the subject - the expert witness of choice on all matters concerning exploration and travel. When the East India Company needed advice, they called on Hakluyt. When publishers or authors wanted to promote their books, it was Hakluyt's 'blurb' they sought. Mancall tells us why that was.
One of the most fascinating and welcome parts of this book was the inclusion of significant research into the publishing and printing worlds of Hakluyt's era. Mancall argues, convincingly, that Hakluyt recognized the potential of the printed word for speading his message, and put the new technologies to optimal use. Synthesizing this information with the intellectual history and the biographical account, Mancall has created a brilliant narrative which deserves wide attention.
[Update: I forgot to mention Mancall's excellent bibliographic essay and his source notes, which are as noteworthy as the rest of the book.]
Richard Hakluyt, educated as a cleric, spent the majority of his life collecting, translating, and publishing travel accounts. These included the writings of those who explored the East Indies, China, and Russia (among other places) - but the Americas quickly became his main focal point. Long before it was popular, Hakluyt saw the potential for English expansion (both in terms of trade, colonization, and the extension of Protestantism) in the northern portions of America, and he worked relentlessly to promote that potential.
Through the publication of his collections of travel accounts - Divers Voyages touching upon America (1582), The Principall Navigations, Voiages, and Discoveries of the English Nation (1589), and a greatly-expanded and more America-centered version of the latter published as The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques and Discoveries of the English Nation (3v., 1598-1600) - not to mention the many other accounts of which he encouraged publication, arranged translation or supported with his imprimatur, Hakluyt laid the groundwork for
the system of English colonization that would begin with the attempts at Roanoke and finally succeed (after a fashion) with the Jamestown settlement.
Carefully using a variety of contemporary sources to fill in the documentary gaps which surround Hakluyt (and they are many), Mancall has managed to recreate his remarkable life. Though he never traveled farther abroad than Paris (he was granted permission to go to Virginia in 1606, but didn't go, never saying why), Hakluyt became - through his extensive reading and publication on the subject - the expert witness of choice on all matters concerning exploration and travel. When the East India Company needed advice, they called on Hakluyt. When publishers or authors wanted to promote their books, it was Hakluyt's 'blurb' they sought. Mancall tells us why that was.
One of the most fascinating and welcome parts of this book was the inclusion of significant research into the publishing and printing worlds of Hakluyt's era. Mancall argues, convincingly, that Hakluyt recognized the potential of the printed word for speading his message, and put the new technologies to optimal use. Synthesizing this information with the intellectual history and the biographical account, Mancall has created a brilliant narrative which deserves wide attention.
[Update: I forgot to mention Mancall's excellent bibliographic essay and his source notes, which are as noteworthy as the rest of the book.]
Links &c.
- There's a very nice write-up of LibraryThing in today's New York Times. LT's Tim Spalding says of the piece "It's everything we could have hoped for - sympathetic, book-focused (albeit in the business section), member-focused (with photo!), and with none of the common misunderstandings." I agree, it's an excellent and very positive piece, and well-deserved! [Note: I was interviewed for this article, but, well, cutting room floors and all that.]
- Bookride comments on the likelihood of a first edition of Wuthering Heights showing up online (the odds aren't good, they suggest).
- BibliOdyssey has some great botanical illustrations by Georg Dionys Ehret (1708-1770).
- Michael Lieberman at Book Patrol mentions a new bookstore in the Netherlands which is housed in a converted 13th-century Dominican church. Beautiful! He also announces the first annual upcoming Book Blog and Web Awards, which should be fun.
- Scott at Fine Books Blog posts on the upcoming Leipzig Antiquarian Book Fair, and also links to the English-language catalogue.
- Lew Jaffe's just back from a trip to DC, and has some Washington-related bookplates on display this week.
- The YouTube biblio-clips of the week: "New York's Street Booksellers" (via Book Patrol); a clip from the British Antiques Roadshow (which is followed by a fairly funny spoof of the show) (via Fine Books Blog); and "Signed First Edition", which Joyce calls "A tale of eccentric book collectors, a yard sale and a novel that may be worth thousands" (via Bibliophile Bullpen).
- Bookride comments on the likelihood of a first edition of Wuthering Heights showing up online (the odds aren't good, they suggest).
- BibliOdyssey has some great botanical illustrations by Georg Dionys Ehret (1708-1770).
- Michael Lieberman at Book Patrol mentions a new bookstore in the Netherlands which is housed in a converted 13th-century Dominican church. Beautiful! He also announces the first annual upcoming Book Blog and Web Awards, which should be fun.
- Scott at Fine Books Blog posts on the upcoming Leipzig Antiquarian Book Fair, and also links to the English-language catalogue.
- Lew Jaffe's just back from a trip to DC, and has some Washington-related bookplates on display this week.
- The YouTube biblio-clips of the week: "New York's Street Booksellers" (via Book Patrol); a clip from the British Antiques Roadshow (which is followed by a fairly funny spoof of the show) (via Fine Books Blog); and "Signed First Edition", which Joyce calls "A tale of eccentric book collectors, a yard sale and a novel that may be worth thousands" (via Bibliophile Bullpen).
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Upcoming Sales
- A first edition printing of the Book of Mormon will be sold at Swann Galleries in New York on 22 March. The copy, signed by early church leader Orson Pratt, is expected to fetch between $70,000 and $90,000. A first edition Mormon hymnal, also part of the sale, may reach $40,000.
- Dukes of Dorchester (England) will host a sale of 220 rare books and manuscripts on 8 March: highlights include a first edition of Darwin's On the Origin of Species (estimated to sell for £30,000-£50,000), a subscriber's edition of T.E. Lawrence's (£10,000-£30,000) and Seven Pillars of Wisdom, and first editions of Gulliver's Travels and Robinson Crusoe. Works by Newton, Austen, and Dickens will also feature.
- Dukes of Dorchester (England) will host a sale of 220 rare books and manuscripts on 8 March: highlights include a first edition of Darwin's On the Origin of Species (estimated to sell for £30,000-£50,000), a subscriber's edition of T.E. Lawrence's (£10,000-£30,000) and Seven Pillars of Wisdom, and first editions of Gulliver's Travels and Robinson Crusoe. Works by Newton, Austen, and Dickens will also feature.
Maps Stolen from PA Dealer
Seems every day now I'm passing along another theft notice. This one's from Pennsylvania:
"Approximately 50 antique maps were stolen from Ted L. Canaday Old and Rare Books, in Harrisburg, Pa., sometime between Feb. 8-15. The total value of the maps amounted to nearly $20,000. Most of the maps were copperplate engravings from the 18th and early 19th centuries, with a few exceptions dating as early as the 1580s and as late as the middle to latter parts of the 19th century. All of these maps should be considered uncommon within the
general antique trade, and several unusual enough to warrant attention within the smaller circle of antique map specialists.
All of the maps were housed in hinged mats, which allow the front matting to be flipped over, so that the map can be removed for inspection. It is generally thought that these may be discarded by the thief.
Unusual items that should raise immediate attention include:
- A manuscript map of early oil territory in Pennsylvania;
- Four Blaeu / Martini maps of Chinese provinces;
- Three maps by Stackhouse, with particular note for his North American example;
- Seale's map of the African Coast.
A detailed list of maps will appear in the March 21 issue of Antique Trader.
Anyone with information regarding these maps should contact Ted Canaday at 717-574-0092 or by e-mail at canaday[at]comcast.net."
[Update: More here, including a more complete description of some of the stolen items and the offer of a reward.]
"Approximately 50 antique maps were stolen from Ted L. Canaday Old and Rare Books, in Harrisburg, Pa., sometime between Feb. 8-15. The total value of the maps amounted to nearly $20,000. Most of the maps were copperplate engravings from the 18th and early 19th centuries, with a few exceptions dating as early as the 1580s and as late as the middle to latter parts of the 19th century. All of these maps should be considered uncommon within the
general antique trade, and several unusual enough to warrant attention within the smaller circle of antique map specialists.
All of the maps were housed in hinged mats, which allow the front matting to be flipped over, so that the map can be removed for inspection. It is generally thought that these may be discarded by the thief.
Unusual items that should raise immediate attention include:
- A manuscript map of early oil territory in Pennsylvania;
- Four Blaeu / Martini maps of Chinese provinces;
- Three maps by Stackhouse, with particular note for his North American example;
- Seale's map of the African Coast.
A detailed list of maps will appear in the March 21 issue of Antique Trader.
Anyone with information regarding these maps should contact Ted Canaday at 717-574-0092 or by e-mail at canaday[at]
[Update: More here, including a more complete description of some of the stolen items and the offer of a reward.]
Friday, March 02, 2007
Legislation Would Open Presidential Records
Well this is a pleasant surprise! On Thursday, Rep. Henry Waxman (D-CA), Chairman of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, announced a bipartisan bill (H.R. 1255) which would nullify a 2001 executive order limiting public access to presidential papers. The bill is cosponsored by Reps. Todd Platts (R-PA), William Lacy Clay (D-MO) and Dan Burton (R-IN).
The main purposes of the bill are here, but basically it would return things to the pre-2001 days. More commentary here at "Inside Higher Ed."
The main purposes of the bill are here, but basically it would return things to the pre-2001 days. More commentary here at "Inside Higher Ed."
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Another Book Theft, UCLA This Time
Again via Everett Wilkie: the LATimes reports today that an 18th-century Italian manuscript has been stolen from an exhibit case at UCLA's Charles E. Young Research Library. "A bound volume of documents from a collection about the politically powerful Orsini family of Rome was stolen sometime between the late afternoon of Feb. 9 and the morning of Feb. 12, according to police."
The 208-page manuscript, composed 1715-36, concerns the Orsini Palace in Rome. It was on display "in connection with an international scholarly conference ... 'The Orsini: A Roman Baronial Family in Context. Politics, Society and Art'" held 1-3 February.
UCLA acquired 540 boxes of Orsini-related material in 1964.
Nancy Greenstein, speaking for the UCLA police, told the paper "detectives were pursuing a few leads that she declined to discuss. She suggested that the thief probably had some familiarity with the volume." Anyone with information about the case is asked to contact UCLA police detectives at (310) 825-9371.
The 208-page manuscript, composed 1715-36, concerns the Orsini Palace in Rome. It was on display "in connection with an international scholarly conference ... 'The Orsini: A Roman Baronial Family in Context. Politics, Society and Art'" held 1-3 February.
UCLA acquired 540 boxes of Orsini-related material in 1964.
Nancy Greenstein, speaking for the UCLA police, told the paper "detectives were pursuing a few leads that she declined to discuss. She suggested that the thief probably had some familiarity with the volume." Anyone with information about the case is asked to contact UCLA police detectives at (310) 825-9371.
Saxton Atlas to be Auctioned
The Guardian reports that a very rare copy of Christopher Saxton's atlas - "the first printed atlas of England and Wales, made up of two fabulously rare sets of Tudor maps bound in a sensational volume" - bound with Giovanni Battista Boazio's hand-colored "charts of Sir Francis Drake's expedition to the West Indies with the first printed plan of any American city," will be sold at Sotheby's in London on March 15.
The atlas was commissioned by William Cecil, treasurer and adviser to Elizabeth I. "Estimates suggest it will fetch up to £700,000. It will be the ninth sale from the Macclesfield library, a collection assembled for the earls of Macclesfield at Shirburn castle in Oxfordshire, and completed by 1750.
The library was broken up in the last century, its rare books having sat mostly untouched and in pristine condition on the shelves for more than 200 years. The Macclesfield Psalter, one of the finest English medieval illuminated manuscripts, was bought by the Fitzwilliam museum in Cambridge after a £1.7m national appeal blocked its export."
The atlas was commissioned by William Cecil, treasurer and adviser to Elizabeth I. "Estimates suggest it will fetch up to £700,000. It will be the ninth sale from the Macclesfield library, a collection assembled for the earls of Macclesfield at Shirburn castle in Oxfordshire, and completed by 1750.
The library was broken up in the last century, its rare books having sat mostly untouched and in pristine condition on the shelves for more than 200 years. The Macclesfield Psalter, one of the finest English medieval illuminated manuscripts, was bought by the Fitzwilliam museum in Cambridge after a £1.7m national appeal blocked its export."
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
New Dispatch
Over at McSweeney's there is, delightfully, a brand-new installment of "Dispatches from a Public Librarian": Troubleshooting Library Computer Problems.
Books Missing
Everett Wilkie just posted on ExLibris a list of books which have gone missing on their trip from Germany to the University of Minnesota library. The following is from the email bulletin:
"...These books are considered World Heritage items because they were the personal property of Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld and were the books he was able to collect while he was in exile in Nice, France after the burning of the Hirschfeld Library by the Nazis on May 10, 1933. Of the 19 books in the package seven (7of the 19) were more modern books that were gifts to us from the Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaft e. V. in Berlin.
The titles of the nineteen missing books are as follows:
1. Magnus Hirschfeld: Die Homosexualität des Mannes und des Weibes, 1912
2. Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen 6.1904
3. Magnus Hirschfeld: Die Weltreise eines Sexualforschers, 1933 (mit Schutzumschlag)
4. Magnus Hirschfeld, Andreas Gaspar (Hg.): Sittengeschichte der jüngsten Zeit -Sittengschichte des Weltkrieges Band, 1930
5. ditto, Band 2, 1930
6. Magnus Hirschfeld, Andreas Gaspar (Hg.): Sittengeschichte der jüngsten Zeit -Sittengeschichte der Nachkriegszeit, Bd. 1, 1931
7. Magnus Hirschfeld, Berndt Götz: Sexualgeschichte der Menschheit, 1929
8. dies.: Das erotische Weltbild, 1929Magnus Hirschfeld: Sexualpathologie
9. Band 2, 1918
10. Band 3, 1920Magnus Hirschfeld: Geschlechtskunde
11. Band 4: Bilderteil, 1930
12. Band 5: Register, 1930 Diese Bücher enthielten ein lose beigelegtes Exlibris (siehe Anlage) auf gelblichem Kartonbzw. waren als "additional gift" (Nr. 1) gekennzeichnet.Weitere sieben Bände aus dem Dublettenbestand der Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaftwurden nicht einzeln aufgelistet; alle mit einem beigelegten Vermerk: "additional gift"
(13)Magnus Hirschfeld: Von Einst bis Jetzt, ed. by Manfred Herzer and James D. Steakley. 1986
(14 & 15)[Selection from] Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen, vols 1 and 2. ed. by Johann Wolfgang Schmidt. Frankfurt: Qumran 1984
16, 17, 18, & 19 - titles missing at this time.
I will forward the last four titles as soon as I get them. If you have any leads on these missing books please contact Jean-Nickolaus Tretter at trett007umn.edu or Tim Johnson at johns976umn.edu Should you have received any or all of our missing German books I can assure you that we will make arrangements for their return at absolutely no cost to you and with a minimal effort or work on your part. If you have any additional questions, comments, or concerns please feel free to contact us at any time. Please also feel free to circulate this message as you see fit. Thank you for your attention to this matter."
Each book was wrapped in white tissue paper and contained a bookmark inside the front cover reading:
"Dieses Buch stammt
aus dem Nachlass
von
Li Shiu Tong
(1907 - 1993)
Dem Letzten Freund
und Erben
Magnus
Hirschfelds
(1868-1935)
Die Bücher aus dem
Nachlass wurden
von der Magnus-
Hirschfeld-
Gesellschaft e. V. im
Oktober 2006 mit
Spendenmitteln
erworben."
"...These books are considered World Heritage items because they were the personal property of Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld and were the books he was able to collect while he was in exile in Nice, France after the burning of the Hirschfeld Library by the Nazis on May 10, 1933. Of the 19 books in the package seven (7of the 19) were more modern books that were gifts to us from the Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaft e. V. in Berlin.
The titles of the nineteen missing books are as follows:
1. Magnus Hirschfeld: Die Homosexualität des Mannes und des Weibes, 1912
2. Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen 6.1904
3. Magnus Hirschfeld: Die Weltreise eines Sexualforschers, 1933 (mit Schutzumschlag)
4. Magnus Hirschfeld, Andreas Gaspar (Hg.): Sittengeschichte der jüngsten Zeit -Sittengschichte des Weltkrieges Band, 1930
5. ditto, Band 2, 1930
6. Magnus Hirschfeld, Andreas Gaspar (Hg.): Sittengeschichte der jüngsten Zeit -Sittengeschichte der Nachkriegszeit, Bd. 1, 1931
7. Magnus Hirschfeld, Berndt Götz: Sexualgeschichte der Menschheit, 1929
8. dies.: Das erotische Weltbild, 1929Magnus Hirschfeld: Sexualpathologie
9. Band 2, 1918
10. Band 3, 1920Magnus Hirschfeld: Geschlechtskunde
11. Band 4: Bilderteil, 1930
12. Band 5: Register, 1930 Diese Bücher enthielten ein lose beigelegtes Exlibris (siehe Anlage) auf gelblichem Kartonbzw. waren als "additional gift" (Nr. 1) gekennzeichnet.Weitere sieben Bände aus dem Dublettenbestand der Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaftwurden nicht einzeln aufgelistet; alle mit einem beigelegten Vermerk: "additional gift"
(13)Magnus Hirschfeld: Von Einst bis Jetzt, ed. by Manfred Herzer and James D. Steakley. 1986
(14 & 15)[Selection from] Jahrbuch für sexuelle Zwischenstufen, vols 1 and 2. ed. by Johann Wolfgang Schmidt. Frankfurt: Qumran 1984
16, 17, 18, & 19 - titles missing at this time.
I will forward the last four titles as soon as I get them. If you have any leads on these missing books please contact Jean-Nickolaus Tretter at trett007
Each book was wrapped in white tissue paper and contained a bookmark inside the front cover reading:
"Dieses Buch stammt
aus dem Nachlass
von
Li Shiu Tong
(1907 - 1993)
Dem Letzten Freund
und Erben
Magnus
Hirschfelds
(1868-1935)
Die Bücher aus dem
Nachlass wurden
von der Magnus-
Hirschfeld-
Gesellschaft e. V. im
Oktober 2006 mit
Spendenmitteln
erworben."
Visualizing LibraryThing
Man, what will they think of next? The new "visualization site", Many Eyes (which looks like a whole lot of fun, I'll have to play with it some more) is currently featuring "Harry Potter is Freaking Popular," which shows the top fifty books currently listed in LibraryThing. I like the capabilities this has, including snapshot view in comments (i.e. you can select multiple 'bubbles' using 'control + click' and have it show up, to make a point or just indicate which of the titles you've read). Pretty cool. As Tim points out, the possibilities for LT data + Many Eyes visualizers are (probably) endless.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
On Longfellow's Bicentennial
For some reason I thought Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's birthday was 28 February so I was planning to post then about his 200th, but, realizing that would have been a day late, I've collected a few key links and musings to get in just under the wire.
- First, I recommend (again) Nicholas Basbanes' essay "Famous Once Again" in the February issue of Smithsonian. It's a good introduction to HWL and also notes some of the many recent commemorations of his life and works (including a postage stamp and an ongoing exhibit at Harvard's Houghton Library).
- Via Bibliophile Bullpen, a WBUR broadcast, "Weathering Longfellow's 200th."
- Also, I should note The Longfellow Bicentennial Committee website - they've got the full list of upcoming celebratory events, including a major gala at Harvard's Sanders Theater on 25 March that sounds like quite a time! And there's the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Birthplace, which has a very useful poetry database. If you get a chance, do stop by the Longfellow National Historic Site in Cambridge; it's a great place where the guides will give you a really amazing tour of a building which featured heavily in the poet's writings (hearing poems like "The Children's Hour" and "The Old Clock on the Stairs" in context is worth the trip in itself). I did an internship there awhile back and enjoyed it very much.
- The HWL poem that always manages to affect me the most (with "A Psalm for Life" a close second) is "Christmas Bells" - not for its first three stanzas (the well-known ones, and most often sung today as "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day") but for the last four. Written on Christmas Day, 1864, as the Civil War dragged inexorably on (and just shortly after Longfellow learned that his son had been wounded in battle), these verses speak so starkly - and so simply, as was Longfellow's way - to the pains of war and hopes of peace that have changed not a whit since they were penned.
Happy Birthday, Mr. Longfellow.
- First, I recommend (again) Nicholas Basbanes' essay "Famous Once Again" in the February issue of Smithsonian. It's a good introduction to HWL and also notes some of the many recent commemorations of his life and works (including a postage stamp and an ongoing exhibit at Harvard's Houghton Library).
- Via Bibliophile Bullpen, a WBUR broadcast, "Weathering Longfellow's 200th."
- Also, I should note The Longfellow Bicentennial Committee website - they've got the full list of upcoming celebratory events, including a major gala at Harvard's Sanders Theater on 25 March that sounds like quite a time! And there's the Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Birthplace, which has a very useful poetry database. If you get a chance, do stop by the Longfellow National Historic Site in Cambridge; it's a great place where the guides will give you a really amazing tour of a building which featured heavily in the poet's writings (hearing poems like "The Children's Hour" and "The Old Clock on the Stairs" in context is worth the trip in itself). I did an internship there awhile back and enjoyed it very much.
- The HWL poem that always manages to affect me the most (with "A Psalm for Life" a close second) is "Christmas Bells" - not for its first three stanzas (the well-known ones, and most often sung today as "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day") but for the last four. Written on Christmas Day, 1864, as the Civil War dragged inexorably on (and just shortly after Longfellow learned that his son had been wounded in battle), these verses speak so starkly - and so simply, as was Longfellow's way - to the pains of war and hopes of peace that have changed not a whit since they were penned.
Happy Birthday, Mr. Longfellow.
Mr. Wordsworth ... in the Kitchen ... with the Butter Knife?
[Note: this is a long post]
There's been an ongoing discussion over on ExLibris lately that prompts this post, which is a short* examination of what seems to be a game of literary "Telephone". The discussion started - I think - with a post about binding errors [update: I'm reminded the original question dealt with what appeared to be an intentional misbinding] and what value (if any) they brought to books. It then slowly morphed into a conversation about shrink-wrapped books, and from there to the difference between "shrink-wrapped" and "unopened" (that is, a book in which the top and fore-edges of the leaves remain connected from where the sheets were folded into gatherings ... not to be confused with "uncut", where the page edges have not been trimmed straight by the binder. See here, the first and second images).
An anecdote, introduced into the thread at this point, starts us on our investigation. Wrote one member (all such of whom shall remain anonymous for our purposes: "There is an amusing story regarding Wordsworth and Coleridge at Dove Cottage which illustrates their different temperaments: Wordsworth was greatly annoyed to see Coleridge opening new books with the butter knife."
Ah, wrote another Ex-Libran "Smiling to think of the scene (was Dorothy in the doorway? - did she take sides? - I don't remember!)." But wait, said a third: "Unless my memory is playing tricks on me, it was Wordsworth, not Coleridge, who sliced open books with a butter knife. I have a feeling that Harriet Martineau may be the source of that story."
My curiosity then piqued (an effect almost unavoidable under the circumstances) I checked a few book indexes from my shelves and then clicked over to Google Books (which, as I think I've said before, I am coming to think of as a sort of "master index" even though it's not there yet). I found a few citations which named Wordsworth the buttered-knife fiend, and passed them on to the list. Not to be countered, however, the original poster who'd pointed the buttered blade at Coleridge replied "The particulars seem fraught with confusion & conflation. It does
appear that SOMEBODY committed the heinous deed, but the doctors disagree." Pasted below were three more citations, all naming Coleridge. And so the project was on. What's the root of this story? How's it gotten so snarled?
Off we go.
From what I've been able to determine so far - and this could change at any moment, mind you - the originator of this story seems to be Thomas De Quincey, who tells it in his The Lake Poets: Wordsworth and Southey (written 1830-40, but to be found in Volume II of The Collected Writings of Thomas De Quincey, 1889). On page 312 of that volume, De Quincey writes: "[Robert] Southey had particularly elegant habits (Wordsworth called them finical) in the use of books. Wordsworth, on the other hand, was so negligent, and so self-indulgent in the same case, that, as Southey, laughing, expressed it to me some years afterwards ... 'To introduce Wordsworth into one's library is like letting a bear into a tulip garden.'"
De Quincey continues, recounting the tale of the "first exemplification" he had of Wordsworth's 'less than gentle' treatment of books. It was, he writes, "early in my acquaintance with him, and on occasion of a book which (if any could) justified the too summary style of his advances in rifling its charms. On a level with the eye, when sitting at the tea-table in my little cottage at Grasmere, stood the collective works of Edmund Burke. The book was to me an eye-sore and an ear-sore for many a year, in consequence of the cacophonous title lettered by the bookseller upon the back - 'Burke's Works.' I have heard it said, by the way that, Donne's intolerable defect of ear grew out of his own baptismal name, when harnessed to his own surname - John Donne. No man, it was said, who had listened to this hideous jingle from childish years, could fail to have his genius for discord, and the abominable in sound, improved to the utmost. Not less dreadful than John Donne was 'Burke's Works'; which, however, on the old principle, that every day's work is no day's work, continued to annoy me for twenty-one years. Wordsworth took down the volume; unfortunately it was uncut; fortunately, and by a special Providence as to him, it seemed, tea was proceeding at the time. Dry toast required butter; butter required knives; and knives then lay on the table; but sad it was for the virgin purity of Mr. Burke's as yet unsunned pages, that every knife bore upon its blade testimonies of the service it had rendered. Did that stop Wordsworth? Did that cause him to call for another knife? Not at all; he
'Look'd at the knife that caus'd his pain:
And look'd and sigh'd, and look'd and sigh'd again';**
and then, after this momentary tribute to regret, he tore his way into the heart of the volume withis knife, that left its greasy honours behind it upon every page: and are they not there to this day? This personal experience first brought me acquainted with Wordsworth's habits in that particular especially, with his intense impatience for one minute's delay which would have brought a remedy..." De Quincey goes on to say that he'd purchase the Burke volume cheaply and wouldn't have mentioned the incident at all, "only to illustrate the excess of Wordsworth's outrages on books, which made him, in Southey's eyes, a mere monster..."
But what of Coleridge? Ah, De Quincey says in the next paragraph, "has Wordsworth done as Coleridge did, how cheerfully should I have acquiesced in his destruction (such as it was, in a pecuniary sense) of books, as the very highest obligation he could confer. Coleridge often spoiled a book; but, in the course of doing this, he enriched that book with so many and so valuable notes, from such a cornucopia of discursive reading, and such a fusing intellect, commentaries so many-angled and so many-coloured that I have envied many a man whose luck has placed him in the way of such injuries; and that man must have been a churl (though, God knows! too often this churl has existed) who could have found in his heart to complain."
I just couldn't resist quoting that at length; it had to be done. So, now, onward.
In Holbrook Jackson's The Anatomy of Bibliomania (1981, page 423), much of De Quincey's account is quoted verbatim. Heather J. Jackson in Marginalia (2001, page 95) references the same, noting that De Quincey "compares [Wordsworth] unfavorably with Coleridge." The Cambridge Guide to Literature in English (1993, page 781), summarizing De Quincey's work: "Coleridge is shown in all his intellectural grandeur and human weakness: simultaneously the most original English mind of his time and a compulsive plagiarist. Wordsworth's genius is fully honoured, but he is also the proud bibliophobe - sacreligiously cutting open precious pages with a used butter-knife on the kitchen table...".
Not all authors seem to have been so careful in their use of De Quincey, however. In How to Form a Library (1886) Henry Benjamin Wheatley comments (page 53) "Southey cared for his books, but Coleridge would cut the leaves with a butter knife..." Channeling Wheatley to a suspicious degree, Adrian Joline, in The Diversions of a Book-Lover (1903, page 27): "If I am not mistaken, Southey was careful with his books, but Coleridge would cut the leaves with a butter-knife, and De Quincey was merciless toward them." A.J.K. Esdaile, in Autolycus' Pack and Other Light Wares (1969 reprint, page 51), speaking of Samuel Johnson: "Let us trust that he did not, like Coleridge, cut books open at breakfast with the butter knife."
The examples abound, in biographies, newspaper articles, and works of literary criticism. For the most part, they convict Wordsworth; the earliest example I can find which places the blame on Coleridge is Wheatley's 1886 comment. That certainly doesn't mean earlier examples don't exist, just that I haven't come across them. I'd be interested to see other citations, either taking the story back earlier than De Quincey's account (presuming his truthfulness in having witnessed the event, these shouldn't exist), or finding pre-1886 examples naming Coleridge as the butterer (quite possible). I have not yet had a chance to read the newest account of the Wordsworth/Coleridge relationship (Adam Sisman's The Friendship), which may or may not contain this anecdote.
No matter what, this has been a fascinating examination, and it shows, I think, both the power of the new technologies (this little study could not, I suspect, have been done in a single morning to the same degree without Google Books) and the literary knots that exist out there just waiting to be untangled. And so, at long last, I must conclude on De Quincey's evidence, that it was indeed Mr. Wordsworth, in the kitchen, with the butter knife.
* Alright, not-so-short.
** A paraphrase, apparently, from Dryden's "Alexander's Feast".
There's been an ongoing discussion over on ExLibris lately that prompts this post, which is a short* examination of what seems to be a game of literary "Telephone". The discussion started - I think - with a post about binding errors [update: I'm reminded the original question dealt with what appeared to be an intentional misbinding] and what value (if any) they brought to books. It then slowly morphed into a conversation about shrink-wrapped books, and from there to the difference between "shrink-wrapped" and "unopened" (that is, a book in which the top and fore-edges of the leaves remain connected from where the sheets were folded into gatherings ... not to be confused with "uncut", where the page edges have not been trimmed straight by the binder. See here, the first and second images).
An anecdote, introduced into the thread at this point, starts us on our investigation. Wrote one member (all such of whom shall remain anonymous for our purposes: "There is an amusing story regarding Wordsworth and Coleridge at Dove Cottage which illustrates their different temperaments: Wordsworth was greatly annoyed to see Coleridge opening new books with the butter knife."
Ah, wrote another Ex-Libran "Smiling to think of the scene (was Dorothy in the doorway? - did she take sides? - I don't remember!)." But wait, said a third: "Unless my memory is playing tricks on me, it was Wordsworth, not Coleridge, who sliced open books with a butter knife. I have a feeling that Harriet Martineau may be the source of that story."
My curiosity then piqued (an effect almost unavoidable under the circumstances) I checked a few book indexes from my shelves and then clicked over to Google Books (which, as I think I've said before, I am coming to think of as a sort of "master index" even though it's not there yet). I found a few citations which named Wordsworth the buttered-knife fiend, and passed them on to the list. Not to be countered, however, the original poster who'd pointed the buttered blade at Coleridge replied "The particulars seem fraught with confusion & conflation. It does
appear that SOMEBODY committed the heinous deed, but the doctors disagree." Pasted below were three more citations, all naming Coleridge. And so the project was on. What's the root of this story? How's it gotten so snarled?
Off we go.
From what I've been able to determine so far - and this could change at any moment, mind you - the originator of this story seems to be Thomas De Quincey, who tells it in his The Lake Poets: Wordsworth and Southey (written 1830-40, but to be found in Volume II of The Collected Writings of Thomas De Quincey, 1889). On page 312 of that volume, De Quincey writes: "[Robert] Southey had particularly elegant habits (Wordsworth called them finical) in the use of books. Wordsworth, on the other hand, was so negligent, and so self-indulgent in the same case, that, as Southey, laughing, expressed it to me some years afterwards ... 'To introduce Wordsworth into one's library is like letting a bear into a tulip garden.'"
De Quincey continues, recounting the tale of the "first exemplification" he had of Wordsworth's 'less than gentle' treatment of books. It was, he writes, "early in my acquaintance with him, and on occasion of a book which (if any could) justified the too summary style of his advances in rifling its charms. On a level with the eye, when sitting at the tea-table in my little cottage at Grasmere, stood the collective works of Edmund Burke. The book was to me an eye-sore and an ear-sore for many a year, in consequence of the cacophonous title lettered by the bookseller upon the back - 'Burke's Works.' I have heard it said, by the way that, Donne's intolerable defect of ear grew out of his own baptismal name, when harnessed to his own surname - John Donne. No man, it was said, who had listened to this hideous jingle from childish years, could fail to have his genius for discord, and the abominable in sound, improved to the utmost. Not less dreadful than John Donne was 'Burke's Works'; which, however, on the old principle, that every day's work is no day's work, continued to annoy me for twenty-one years. Wordsworth took down the volume; unfortunately it was uncut; fortunately, and by a special Providence as to him, it seemed, tea was proceeding at the time. Dry toast required butter; butter required knives; and knives then lay on the table; but sad it was for the virgin purity of Mr. Burke's as yet unsunned pages, that every knife bore upon its blade testimonies of the service it had rendered. Did that stop Wordsworth? Did that cause him to call for another knife? Not at all; he
'Look'd at the knife that caus'd his pain:
And look'd and sigh'd, and look'd and sigh'd again';**
and then, after this momentary tribute to regret, he tore his way into the heart of the volume withis knife, that left its greasy honours behind it upon every page: and are they not there to this day? This personal experience first brought me acquainted with Wordsworth's habits in that particular especially, with his intense impatience for one minute's delay which would have brought a remedy..." De Quincey goes on to say that he'd purchase the Burke volume cheaply and wouldn't have mentioned the incident at all, "only to illustrate the excess of Wordsworth's outrages on books, which made him, in Southey's eyes, a mere monster..."
But what of Coleridge? Ah, De Quincey says in the next paragraph, "has Wordsworth done as Coleridge did, how cheerfully should I have acquiesced in his destruction (such as it was, in a pecuniary sense) of books, as the very highest obligation he could confer. Coleridge often spoiled a book; but, in the course of doing this, he enriched that book with so many and so valuable notes, from such a cornucopia of discursive reading, and such a fusing intellect, commentaries so many-angled and so many-coloured that I have envied many a man whose luck has placed him in the way of such injuries; and that man must have been a churl (though, God knows! too often this churl has existed) who could have found in his heart to complain."
I just couldn't resist quoting that at length; it had to be done. So, now, onward.
In Holbrook Jackson's The Anatomy of Bibliomania (1981, page 423), much of De Quincey's account is quoted verbatim. Heather J. Jackson in Marginalia (2001, page 95) references the same, noting that De Quincey "compares [Wordsworth] unfavorably with Coleridge." The Cambridge Guide to Literature in English (1993, page 781), summarizing De Quincey's work: "Coleridge is shown in all his intellectural grandeur and human weakness: simultaneously the most original English mind of his time and a compulsive plagiarist. Wordsworth's genius is fully honoured, but he is also the proud bibliophobe - sacreligiously cutting open precious pages with a used butter-knife on the kitchen table...".
Not all authors seem to have been so careful in their use of De Quincey, however. In How to Form a Library (1886) Henry Benjamin Wheatley comments (page 53) "Southey cared for his books, but Coleridge would cut the leaves with a butter knife..." Channeling Wheatley to a suspicious degree, Adrian Joline, in The Diversions of a Book-Lover (1903, page 27): "If I am not mistaken, Southey was careful with his books, but Coleridge would cut the leaves with a butter-knife, and De Quincey was merciless toward them." A.J.K. Esdaile, in Autolycus' Pack and Other Light Wares (1969 reprint, page 51), speaking of Samuel Johnson: "Let us trust that he did not, like Coleridge, cut books open at breakfast with the butter knife."
The examples abound, in biographies, newspaper articles, and works of literary criticism. For the most part, they convict Wordsworth; the earliest example I can find which places the blame on Coleridge is Wheatley's 1886 comment. That certainly doesn't mean earlier examples don't exist, just that I haven't come across them. I'd be interested to see other citations, either taking the story back earlier than De Quincey's account (presuming his truthfulness in having witnessed the event, these shouldn't exist), or finding pre-1886 examples naming Coleridge as the butterer (quite possible). I have not yet had a chance to read the newest account of the Wordsworth/Coleridge relationship (Adam Sisman's The Friendship), which may or may not contain this anecdote.
No matter what, this has been a fascinating examination, and it shows, I think, both the power of the new technologies (this little study could not, I suspect, have been done in a single morning to the same degree without Google Books) and the literary knots that exist out there just waiting to be untangled. And so, at long last, I must conclude on De Quincey's evidence, that it was indeed Mr. Wordsworth, in the kitchen, with the butter knife.
* Alright, not-so-short.
** A paraphrase, apparently, from Dryden's "Alexander's Feast".
Book Review: "Toussaint Louverture"
English professor and novelist Madison Smartt Bell's new book, Toussaint Louverture (Pantheon, 2007) is at once a biography of the Haitian Revolution's main leader and at the same time a remarkably useful overall history of that conflict. Louverture makes for an incredibly difficult subject given the paucity of objective sources on his life and legacy, but Bell has handled that dilemma carefully and well.
As Bell notes in his afterword, most portrayals of Louverture show "an extreme Toussaint: either a vicious, duplicitous, Machiavellian figure ... or a military and political genius, autodidact, and self-made man, a wise and good humanitarian who not only led his people to freedom but also envisioned and briefly created a society based on racial harmony, at least two hundred years ahead of its time." What Bell has - I suspect consciously - attempted to do here is tack toward the middle, showing Toussaint (to the extent possible) in his own context.
We don't get a great deal here about the motivations of the man, and to his great credit Bell has refrained from attempting to psycho-analyze his subject. Where there are speculations - and there are some, of necessity - they're carefully noted. In the absence of a huge amount of personal detail, Bell provides a fascinating and detailed account of the incredibly complicated politics of Saint Domingue during the years of revolutionary conflict. The balance of power seemed to be constantly shifting (both between and amongst the groups within the colony and with the various European powers), and Bell has managed to recreate the essence of that without bogging the book down. I do wish that he'd included more about the relationship with the fledging United States, including the support offered by the Adams administration during the early years of the rebellion.
Louverture was and remains an impossible figure to pin down. Was he in fact out to secure an independent St. Domingue? If so, why not declare it (he insisted throughout that he remained loyal to France)? Why did he fall into the trap that led to his arrest and deportation? These questions, unfortunately, will probably never be answered. But Bell's book provides a fresh examination of these and other issues, and is an important introduction to its subject. Recommended.
Other recent reviews (I've decided that for some books I'll include links to other recent reviews, which - I feel obligated to note - I make a point not to read until after I've written my own): "The Elusive Louverture" by James Smethurst (Boston Globe, 2/25); "The Moses of Haiti" by Theola Labbe (Washington Post, 2/25).
As Bell notes in his afterword, most portrayals of Louverture show "an extreme Toussaint: either a vicious, duplicitous, Machiavellian figure ... or a military and political genius, autodidact, and self-made man, a wise and good humanitarian who not only led his people to freedom but also envisioned and briefly created a society based on racial harmony, at least two hundred years ahead of its time." What Bell has - I suspect consciously - attempted to do here is tack toward the middle, showing Toussaint (to the extent possible) in his own context.
We don't get a great deal here about the motivations of the man, and to his great credit Bell has refrained from attempting to psycho-analyze his subject. Where there are speculations - and there are some, of necessity - they're carefully noted. In the absence of a huge amount of personal detail, Bell provides a fascinating and detailed account of the incredibly complicated politics of Saint Domingue during the years of revolutionary conflict. The balance of power seemed to be constantly shifting (both between and amongst the groups within the colony and with the various European powers), and Bell has managed to recreate the essence of that without bogging the book down. I do wish that he'd included more about the relationship with the fledging United States, including the support offered by the Adams administration during the early years of the rebellion.
Louverture was and remains an impossible figure to pin down. Was he in fact out to secure an independent St. Domingue? If so, why not declare it (he insisted throughout that he remained loyal to France)? Why did he fall into the trap that led to his arrest and deportation? These questions, unfortunately, will probably never be answered. But Bell's book provides a fresh examination of these and other issues, and is an important introduction to its subject. Recommended.
Other recent reviews (I've decided that for some books I'll include links to other recent reviews, which - I feel obligated to note - I make a point not to read until after I've written my own): "The Elusive Louverture" by James Smethurst (Boston Globe, 2/25); "The Moses of Haiti" by Theola Labbe (Washington Post, 2/25).
AP Grabs Book-Theft Story
The Associated Press has blurbed the major book theft that occurred recently in Northern New Hampshire, which I mentioned briefly on Sunday. Joyce at Bibliophile Bullpen has a list of some of the major philosophical works stolen from the estate of William Ernest Hocking. She's also got email addresses where you can send tips or information. Booksellers - and probably those in New England particularly - should be on the lookout for these items.
Monday, February 26, 2007
On Google and Booksellers
The Register ran an article yesterday commenting on how some booksellers are coming to embrace the eventual concept of Google Books as massive retail clearinghouse:
"When Google first unveiled its plans at the Frankfurt Bookfair in 2004, traditional booksellers trembled at the thought of competing with the Google behemoth. But the tables have seemingly turned with e-savvy retailers now looking forward to becoming involved because there is no fee for publishers to participate in Google Book Search. (Although they must pay to ship titles to Google). On the other hand the industry's traditional portals, such as ABE, Amazon and Alibris, charge vendors to market their wares online and add shipping costs to their prices.
According to Conor Kenny, who heads up landmark Galway bookstore Kennys - also probably the oldest online bookstore in the world - vendors are looking forward to embracing Google. 'Put simply, the power of Google cannot be overlooked,' he says.
The mark up for online vendors on book sales is around 35 per cent before handling. However, if purchased from, say, Kennys via Amazon, the huge internet retailer charges around 15 per cent on the sale.
For its part, Google says it is not taking a cut from booksellers, and claims it hasn't figured out how to generate revenue from the project. Yet."
An interesting angle to the Google Books Project. Also, if you haven't read Jeff Toobin's "Google's Moon Shot" from the 2/5 issue of the New Yorker, I recommend it; it's a good rundown of the Project's progress to date and where Google sees it going.
[h/t Shelf::Life for the bookseller story]
"When Google first unveiled its plans at the Frankfurt Bookfair in 2004, traditional booksellers trembled at the thought of competing with the Google behemoth. But the tables have seemingly turned with e-savvy retailers now looking forward to becoming involved because there is no fee for publishers to participate in Google Book Search. (Although they must pay to ship titles to Google). On the other hand the industry's traditional portals, such as ABE, Amazon and Alibris, charge vendors to market their wares online and add shipping costs to their prices.
According to Conor Kenny, who heads up landmark Galway bookstore Kennys - also probably the oldest online bookstore in the world - vendors are looking forward to embracing Google. 'Put simply, the power of Google cannot be overlooked,' he says.
The mark up for online vendors on book sales is around 35 per cent before handling. However, if purchased from, say, Kennys via Amazon, the huge internet retailer charges around 15 per cent on the sale.
For its part, Google says it is not taking a cut from booksellers, and claims it hasn't figured out how to generate revenue from the project. Yet."
An interesting angle to the Google Books Project. Also, if you haven't read Jeff Toobin's "Google's Moon Shot" from the 2/5 issue of the New Yorker, I recommend it; it's a good rundown of the Project's progress to date and where Google sees it going.
[h/t Shelf::Life for the bookseller story]
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