I’ve always bought more books than I can possibly read.
It’s under control, though. Just a fraction more. But it means that the section of the bookcase(s) that contain the unread books grows, slowly but inevitably.
I put the books I read at the top of the bookcase, and the unread ones sort of have a sedimental journey towards the bottom.
So they remain sorted in the order I’ve purchased them, and the ones at the bottom become the ones I never look at, because I assume that they’re something that I’ve determined that I’ll never actually read.
So this “summer” (for some value of) and autumn I’m going to do a grand experiment: I’m going to read an older section. I picked out at random this one shown on the right there.
It’s all books bought in 1995, as far as I can tell from circumstantial evidence (copyright notices and the books around them).
And when I say “read”, I mean “try”. I have no compunction about finishing books. The second they start to bore me, I ditch them. There are plenty of books in the world.
I’m going to hazard a guess that that light blue book over there to the right will be ditched toot sweet. But time will show.
In the previous installment, we saw that Penguin had done weird stuff typographically. And now I understand why.
In the back of the book is a “List of Variants”, which details minutely what manuscripts have been used. I mean, important stuff like “La” vs “la”.
And they list these variants based on page and line numbers.
This was done for the previous, un-annotated edition. So when they wanted to add some footnotes, they either had to re-do the entire “List of Variants”, or do it the easy/hard way by just pasting in new lines (in a narrower typescript) here and there.
It’s all so logical.
I was reading Tender is the Night and was puzzling over the typesetting. The foreword and the index is set in a very clear, narrow typeface, while the text itself looks old and worn.
This is unfortunately an annotated edition, which I loathe. I wouldn’t have bought it if I’d known.
But that doesn’t make sense. If it’s a new, annotated edition, why does is look so worn and old-timey?
Then I noticed. Just look at it. The single line that has the annotation “15” is set in a narrower typeface that also looks crisper. Just look at those to “but”s.
So the cheap bastards just cut out the lines where they wanted to have an annotation, re-set it in the narrower font to make room for the annotation, and then pasted the result back in.
I didn’t know that doing stuff like that was even possible in these digital days. It’s practially midieval.
I’ve been celebrating the Norwegian constitutional day (I think it’s celebrating that we were rid of the tyrannical rule of the Danes, or the Swedes, or somebody equally tyrannical and heinous) by putting up more book shelves.
I’m not digital at all in the book dept. It’s still all papery stuff. It takes a lot of space! Nature abhors walls without book shelves, so, after doing an intensive search for something that would fit this rather small wall, I settled on these Ikea shelves.
The wall is rather thin particle board, and I didn’t actually do the whole anchor thing, so they’re probably going to fall down after a while, but here’s the fun fact: I paid more for the screws than the shelves themselves!
That’s so sexist.
The fun people at McSweeney’s have done a lot of amusingly formatted issues of their Quarterly Concern (a shaving kit, an advertising folder, etc), but this one is certainly the bulkiest one:
It’s a 15x15x15cm box, and when you crack open his forehead, you find lots of neat litte pamphlets inside instead of brains:
And how are the pamphlets? Er… you expect me to read them? Now? Look at the box! Just look at it!