An Easter Bunny*

It’s easy to draw a distinction between physical books and digital transmission of information. Often, this constructed dichotomy is emphasised by arguing that one format is superior to the other. I admit that I can be as guilty of this as anyone.

Less discussed are the ways in which digital can work alongside manuscripts and print books. The British Library, for instance, have digitised thousands of manuscripts and made them free to view. These are texts which I would otherwise be unable to access. No matter how much you can argue that paper is superior to digital for whatever reason, this is one benefit of the internet age which I am happy to use.

Without the British Library’s online collection, for instance, I would never have come across Harley MS 647, an astrological and astronomical work from the Library’s Scientific Manuscript collection.

Why am I interested in MS 647, you ask?

http://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/Viewer.aspx?ref=harley_ms_647_f002v

Biblioclasts: Breaking Books (and Bibliophiles’ Hearts)

There’s a lot about MS 1/17 that interests me, as I have already discussed. Yet what stands out the most about this Book of Hours is what isn’t there. Take a look:

All of MS 1/17’s illuminations have been removed. Some, like in the images above, have been cut from the page, leaving only the text behind. Elsewhere, entire pages have been removed – presumably, they contained illuminations so large, detailed, or complexly connected to the text that it was better to take the page whole than to cut it up. It seems that no section of the book has been spared; we know that Books of Hours were often embellished with an illuminated at the beginning of each hour, depicting events of the Virgin Mary’s life (213). No such illuminations exist in MS 1/17.

To put it simply, at some point during this little book’s life, some ignorant idiot has taken a knife to it and hacked it to pieces.

Illiterate Literature Appreciation

In my last post, I discussed my library’s Book of Hours. Looking back, I think I should expand on one thing I said:

[I]t’s a fantastic and fascinating artefact (even if I can’t read a word of it).

Not only is it written in Latin, a language I cannot read (my knowledge is basically limited to the meaning of spells with Latinate names in Harry Potter), but the Gothic script even makes working out characters a challenge. For me, I can’t appreciate this book in the way it was originally intended, because its most basic purpose – to be read – remains impossible for me.

Half an Hour with a Book of Hours

Last week, I gained access to the literary Fort Knox that is the McClay Library’s Special Collections. It took some time to sort the visit out – not least because I couldn’t work out how to open the door.

Now, why did I choose to embarrass myself trying to get into my library’s inner sanctum?

For this, of course:

Medieval Patronage in Modern Publishing

I stumbled across a fascinating website the other day. Unbound, in the spirit of other crowdfunding sites like Kickstarter, is a platform for writers to pitch their novel ideas to an online audience of readers. If a reader likes the sound of a particular pitch, they can pledge money to help the writer reach the target amount they need to write that book and get it published. The reader, in return for their pledge, will then receive a copy of the book once it is printed/published in digital format. They can even get rewards – from having their name automatically included in the book’s acknowledgements to receiving a fancy collector’s edition if they pledge a certain amount.

Unbound has been described as a ‘revolution’ in publishing. I would agree, but only in a very literal interpretation of the word.