I vividly recall learning about public libraries as a kid: if I signed up for a library card I could take ANY of these books home to read?! From the first, I loved books as physical objects on library shelves—savoring their covers and carefully reading their spines as clues to the stories within. I ended up as a professor of literature who does not just study the words, or texts, of novels (my specialty), but how stories are made into books and circulate in the culture. Everything from graphic design to price can influence our interpretation of a story, even before we read the first word...
I love this utterly unexpected book for its deadpan humor, animated prose, and strange and wondrous facts about the horror-filled history of libraries and the humans who run these book depositories. That CIA-trained librarians, a mere few decades ago, guillotined newspapers and books in the worship of microfilm is an incredibly painful truth in today’s digital age.
Baker’s outrage is palpable, and yet he made me laugh out loud on almost every nerdy page. I’m jealous of his way of speaking. I put this one on syllabi whenever I can.
The ostensible purpose of a library is to preserve the printed word. But for fifty years our country’s libraries–including the Library of Congress–have been doing just the opposite, destroying hundreds of thousands of historic newspapers and replacing them with microfilm copies that are difficult to read, lack all the color and quality of the original paper and illustrations, and deteriorate with age.
With meticulous detective work and Baker’s well-known explanatory power, Double Fold reveals a secret history of microfilm lobbyists, former CIA agents, and warehouses where priceless archives are destroyed with a machine called a guillotine. Baker argues passionately for…
I love the grit and heroism of this story about the history of the humble Armed Services Editions. My own university holds one of the largest collections of these small wartime reprints that were sized to fit into the pocket of a GI’s uniform.
So, I initially reached for this book out of duty but then relished it for its compelling historical facts and vividly bookish humanity.
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER. While the Nazis were burning hundreds of millions of books across Europe, America printed and shipped 140 million books to its troops. The "heartwarming" story of how an army of librarians and publishers lifted spirits and built a new democratic audience of readers is as inspiring today as it was then (New York Times).
When America entered World War II in 1941, we faced an enemy that had banned and burned 100 million books. Outraged librarians launched a campaign to send free books to American troops and gathered 20 million hardcover donations.
This book simply changed the way I do business as a historian and a reader. I love the groundbreaking use of diaries, census records, worker’s memoirs, and library registers to sketch a detailed picture of real books read by real people—not just the official academic record of fine editions with countless mentions of that nameless creature, the “nineteenth-century reader.”
It inspired me to pursue the stories behind the names and comments scratched into abandoned books that find their way onto eBay and the dusty shelves of second-hand bookstores.
Now in its second edition, this landmark book provides an intellectual history of the British working classes from the preindustrial era to the twentieth century. Drawing on workers' memoirs, social surveys, library registers, and more, Jonathan Rose discovers which books people read, how they educated themselves, and what they knew. A new preface uncovers the author's journey into labor history, and its rewarding link to intellectual history.
I love how every little detail of every surviving copy of the famous Gutenberg Bible (a binding, illuminations, a bit of marginalia, etc.) is investigated for clues to its monastic first owners, the book’s travels, and repairs. The chapters read like episodes of CSI.
Yes, my university owns a Gutenberg copy, so this started as another duty read but ended in true love. A big expensive book about the first big expensive book better be good, right? Well, this one is better than good—it is a tour of the force of book sleuthing. I fetishize the illustrations and how this book, cleverly, is roughly the size of a Gutenberg volume.
The Gutenberg Bible is widely recognized as Europe's first printed book, a book that forever changed the world. However, despite its initial impact, fame was fleeting: for the better part of three centuries the Bible was virtually forgotten; only after two centuries of tenacious and contentious scholarship did it attain its iconic status as a monument of human invention. Editio princeps: A History of the Gutenberg Bible is the first book to tell the whole story of Europe's first printed edition, describing its creation at Mainz circa 1455, its impact on fifteenth-century life and religion, its fall into oblivion during…
You saw this rec coming, right? Although this is a novel rather than a straight history, Eco’s story is probably the one that started me on my own nerdy path to book history and book sleuthing. I read it as an impressionable freshman in college, and its descriptions of monastic manuscripts imprinted themselves on me before I ever saw an example of an illuminated book in the flesh.
Murder, medieval abbeys, and old musty books… what’s not to love? In fact, I’m going to take my own advice and reread this one right now—for pure nostalgia and enjoyment.
The year is 1327. Franciscans in a wealthy Italian abbey are suspected of heresy, and Brother William of Baskerville arrives to investigate. When his delicate mission is suddenly overshadowed by seven bizarre deaths, Brother William turns detective.
William collects evidence, deciphers secret symbols and coded manuscripts, and digs into the eerie labyrinth of the abbey where extraordinary things are happening under the cover of night. A spectacular popular and critical success, The Name of the Rose is not only a narrative of a murder investigation but an astonishing chronicle of the Middle Ages.
Hardcore bibliography meets Antiques Roadshow in an illustrated exploration of the role that cheap reprints played in Jane Austen's literary celebrity. In the nineteenth century, inexpensive editions of Jane Austen's novels targeted to Britain's working classes were sold at railway stations, traded for soap wrappers, and awarded as school prizes. At just pennies a copy, these reprints were some of the earliest mass-market paperbacks, with Austen's beloved stories squeezed into tight columns on thin, cheap paper.
Few of these hard-lived bargain books survive, yet they made a substantial difference to Austen's early readership. Packed with 100 color photographs of dazzling, sometimes gaudy, sometimes tasteless covers, This is a unique history of forgotten Austen volumes and the people who read them.
Lourana and Darrick took down the dreaded coal barons in To the Bones, but it seems that the Kavanaghs aren’t done yet. The college-age son of Eamon Kavanagh has unexpectedly inherited not only the family’s business empire but the family itself: generations of Kavanagh men whose spirits persist and who have now taken up residence in Rory’s mind and body.
As Lourana and Darrick try to shape a life together, they are attacked by Eamon through Rory, and flee the life-sucking Kavanaghs across Appalachia and then, in desperation and hope, to Ireland. The reluctant Rory is urged onward in the…
In this sequel to To the Bones, Lourana and Darrick have taken down Eamon Kavanagh, patriarch of the dreaded coal barons of Redbird, WV, but it seems that the family isn’t done yet. The college-age son Rory has unexpectedly inherited not only the family’s empire but the family itself: generations of Kavanagh men whose spirits persist and who have now taken up residence in Rory’s mind and body. As Lourana and Darrick try to shape a life together, they are attacked by Eamon through Rory, and flee the life-sucking Kavanaghs across Appalachia and then, in desperation and hope, to Ireland.…
