I never make marks in books, aside from the occasional grease splatters that appear when I'm trying to eat fried chicken and read at the same time. Anne Fadiman would say that makes me a "courtly lover" of books, as opposed to the "carnal lover" types like my wife. The few times I've tried to read with a pen in hand, I've had to lay down my pen in defeat.
That said, I usually enjoy the markings left by previous owners on the pages of the books I acquire. My copy of Manchester's The Last Lion, volume 2 is peppered with suggestions of better wording than that Churchill actually used, though the corrections are in tentative pencil and only occur once every hundred pages or so. The underlinings in my 1933 Lehrbuch der Geschichte für die oberen Klassen der Gymnasien probably say more of interest than the text itself does. The marginal glosses in my German Theological Reader give me a rare sense of superiority to the previous owner: Really, if you have to look up "ging", aren't you a bit over your head?
My edition of Moby Dick was plundered from my grandmother's house. It belonged to my mother in college and — come to think of it — I suppose it still does. Aside from the name and dormroom inscribed on the first page, there are exactly four penstrokes in the book. They all reside in the table of contents, marking through the chapter numbers 33, 55, 56, and 57 with a single red line. The last time I tried to read Moby Dick, I found these markings to be a wise guide against getting bogged down in chapters headed "Cetology" or worse.
Bobby has stated his intent to go off course, savoring the oxbows as well as the main channel. In that, I wish him luck. As for me, I'll follow my hand-drawn map.
Posted by Ben Brumfield at November 13, 2005 08:07 PMYour comment prompted me to take down my copy of _Moby-Dick_ for the first time in a fair while. The table of contents in mine has some penstrokes too, but they mark off the quota to be treated each week in an intensive 'course for majors' I had my last year as an undergrad. There are ten such allotments. The edition we used (Norton Critical, Hayford & Parker, 1967) has 470 pages of text, so with two 75-minute classes per week over ten weeks (out of a 15-week semester) that means we spent, on average, a bit over three minutes per page. Of course, each and every page (every chapter!) didn't get that kind of attention but I think it's fair to say that we gave _MD_ the ol' "close reading" (ha ha). I wish I had my notes to hand as well but alas they'd be in a box in my sister's attic, thousands of miles from here.
cheers,
Henry
Posted by: Henry Larsen at November 14, 2005 05:26 AMI worry about the entire text, not just the deadly descriptions of ship operations. Chapter 2 has this example…
Now having a night, a day, and still another night following before me in New Bedford, ere I could embark for my destined port, it became a matter of concernment where I was to eat and sleep meanwhile. It was a very dubious-looking, nay, a very dark and dismal night, bitingly cold and cheerless. I knew no one in the place. With anxious grapnels I had sounded my pocket, and only brought up a few pieces of silver, -So, wherever you go, Ishmael, said I to myself, as I stood in the middle of the dreary street shouldering my bag, and comparing gloom towards the north with darkness towards the south – wherever in your wisdom you may conclude to lodge for the night, my dear Ishmael, be sure to inquire the price, and don’t be too particular.
The secret for the today’s reader is, once you’ve put your boat in the water, to go with the current and enjoy the cruise; let the language have its way with you. But the urge to put in your paddle is strong: my god – so many words to say so little.