On the night of the State of the Union address, I must admit, I was not at home listening to the talking heads of all political stripes prognosticating on what the president would say. I fear I agreed most with an early aside from an NPR commentator who said that this speech has largely turned into Kabuki theater. Applause analysis and the meaning of who jumps to their feet and when and why...well, I just fail to see the point. I can read the speech the next day; we pretty much knew what he was going to say: Times are bad. Suck it up. If it weren't for the pleasure of seeing and hearing an articulate president again, I'd skip the whole thing.
However, politics is not the tangent I wish to pursue--at least now. Instead of paying rapt attention to our TV screen, JC and I went to the opening reception for an exhibit at the Folger Library: Extending the Book. I was not overly excited by the prospect, but as with so many things that JC is interested in (there ARE exceptions, however), I was very glad that I went. The extension that the exhibit addressed was the pastime of essentially embellishing the content of books, adding information, illustrations, and sometimes, whole pamphlets relating to the text. It is, in a bizarre way, like adding footnotes to a text, though on a much larger scale. The additions put a personal spin on the book, much as handwritten notes in the margin would do.
Naturally, this "Graingerization" (named after the Mr. Grainger who popularized the activity) was particularly popular with the works of Shakespeare, incorporating portraits of actors and actresses, and even accounts and letters relating to parties given for them and for the productions they were engaged in. It was really quite fascinating to see the ephemera that people thought interesting enough to include in (and actually bind into) their books.
I couldn't help but imagine the results if the practice had continued to the present day. My organic chemistry text, laced with portraits of the dour chemists who had spent their youth perfecting reactions, perhaps a photo of the beach that I fantasized about in that class in the dead of winter..maybe even a few handwritten lab reports or notes of my own on the class...these would have been the stuff with which I Graingerized my text.
In fact, without knowing the name for it, I have a host of 'extended' books. I long ago made a point of annotating my collection of cookbooks with notes as to who had been served with what recipe, and many recipes bear my own opinions on the results I obtained.. some not so enthusiastic. I also have a habit of inserting various pieces of paper into the books at my favorite pages. I might find a birthday card I enjoyed, or a drawing or note from Kay or Sarah when they were small. There might be an envelope with a half-finished letter that takes me back to what was going on when I first essayed the recipe. More likely, the page has its own 'attachments'--spilled ingredients, teacup-sized rings, and wrinkled pages whose hard use indicates many preparations.
Upon further thought, I also remembered that I have a tendency to extend my own writing, even here--with photos, with illustrations, with different fonts that further contribute to the point, the mood, the information I'm attempting to convey.
In any case, the Folger exhibit is well worth a visit. It informs, it teaches, and even more importantly, it makes you think. A triple threat in this world of idiot TV and Kabuki politics.
