The Private Library

Welcome to The Private Library!

We appreciate your visit.  To help you acclimate to our blog, we have listed below permalinks to several of our past posts.  These posts will quickly get you up to speed on what we're all about.  (Because many of our posts are in fact a series of posts on the same topic, the fifth permalink listed below takes you to the first post in a series--click on the arrow at the top of the post to go to the next post in that series.)  

• Why a private library?
• Links & the Private Library
• How to conduct searches on this blog
• What's really important on this blog?
• How to Build a Private Library for Less Than $1 a Day
• How to Furnish Your Private Library

We post new original content on a daily basis.  Our most recent daily post will always be found immediately following this welcome message.

Enjoy!

Photography and The Private Library (Part IX)

Book collectors seeking to build a private library about photography have to make some difficult choices.  Even with unlimited financial resources, unlimited bookshelf space and all the time in the world, they cannot possibly collect everything that's been published about photography--many such books are simply never available in the marketplace.

Even when a collector limits his or her focus to a popular subset of works about photography, such as the work of specific individual photographers, the difficult choices do not go away.  Many individual photographers have published works that have become extremely influential, and such works (especially in anything approaching Fine condition) command substantial premiums whenever they appear in the marketplace:

   

Collectors therefore usually do not attempt to collect all the influential books that have been published by specific individual photographers, but focus instead on only one or two photographers whose influence has been widely acknowledged.  This might mean the iconic works of specific women photographers...

    

or the influential works of specific nature photographers...

    

or influential works of documentary photography...

  

or iconic works about the human figure...

  

or perhaps a retrospective of the works of several influential photographers bound into a single book...

 

Tough decisions....

You probably are going to need more bookshelves....

Photography and The Private Library (Part VIII)

Towards the end of the 19th century photography underwent another major development as it gave birth to cinematography (the subject of a future series of posts).

Photography itself was advancing at a rapid pace, the works of the earliest photographers now beginning to reach the mass market via a wondrous array of books, many of which would become extremely influential:

     

These latter decades of the 19th century saw terrible wars, the beginnings of world's fairs and important explorations of far-flung peoples and places, many of these duly recorded by a photographer:

 

The photographers responsible for such works were able to draw upon an array of manuals and handbooks specific to particular photographic processes, as well as books on composition, lighting and related aesthetic matters:

   

Book collectors building a private library about photography can pick up many of these late 19th century works for as little as a few hundred dollars per title, although the more influential the work is, and the better the condition of the book (many are not known to exist at all in Fine condition), the more money one will have to expend to add a particular title to one's bookshelves.

Specific photographers are arguably the most popular focus of many private libraries about photography, and several now famous photographers were active in the latter decades of the 19th century.  Often their contemporary publication in book form is known only from one or two titles (such as the photographs of Julia Margaret Cameron), while the work of other photographic luminaries was not published in book form (especially all known photographs) until many decades after their death (such as the photographs of Lewis Caroll):

    

What many collectors new to this field overlook is that the first publication of a now famous photographer's work may well have been in a periodical, not in a book.  Some of these periodicals have become famous in their own right over the past century or so, due to the high caliber of photography they were able to attract:

    

One of the best ways to view many of these earliest titles about photography is to pay an online visit to the private library Photobibliothek.ch (located in the vicinity of Schaffhausen in Switzerland). 

The most comprehensive printed bibliography of titles about photography remains Roosens’ & Salu's 4-volume History of Photography: A Bibliography of Books (London: Continuum Intl. Pub. Group/Mansell, 1989-1999), although it obviously is now some years out-of-date.  This title contains extensive coverage of works about individual photographers, with Vol. 1 covering photographers born before 1914, Vol. 2 covering photographers born up to 1936, Vol. 3 covering photographers born up to 1950 and Vol. 4 covering photographers born after 1950.  A slightly more comprehensive online bibliographic database is available at PhotoLit (updated through October 2006), although it only covers works published since 1839.

In tomorrow's post, the last in this series, we will look at more recent examples of titles by specific photographers, many of which now command substantial premiums in the marketplace....

Photography and The Private Library (Part VII)

Advances throughout the remaining decades of the 19th century would rapidly advance photography's fortunes, bringing it ever closer to ubiquitousness.  Among the highlights were Janez Puhar's invention of a means for making photographs on glass; Frederick Scott Archer's invention of the collodion process (put to good use by Lewis Carroll, among others); Herbert Bowyer Berkeley's refinements to the chemistry needed to develop photographs; and George Eastman's refinement of Talbot's original process which ultimately would lead to the first mass market camera, the Kodak Brownie.

These developments were duly recorded, but books from the earliest decades (1830s-1850s), as noted in previous posts, are rarely seen in the marketplace and, when available, often command enormous sums of money:

   

This is basically a problem of supply and demand.  Most book collectors understand the supply side of the equation, but not necessarily the demand side.  On the supply side, you have low print runs for virtually all of the books, and even smaller print runs for the various periodicals in which such discoveries were announced.  (The problem with periodicals is compounded by the fact that some libraries have in the past had a habit of microfilming early periodicals, then pulping the originals, thereby eliminating a major avenue--deaccessioning-- whereby early periodicals and books often enter the marketplace.)  And both books and periodicals have had to survive the vicissitudes of nearly a century and a half, including floods, fires, wars, poor storage conditions and related ills.

On the demand side, the folks adding these early books and periodicals to their private libraries are not just photography buffs--in fact, given the sums of money these materials frequently fetch, it's unlikely casual book collectors are involved in the demand side at all.  What you do have is a demand from a lot of other interested parties that may not be immediately obvious to most collectors.  For example:

• Folks who are collecting local histories (an early photography book may contain the earliest, or only, known 19th century photograph of a particular locale or feature; because exposure times for the earliest photographs were usually quite lengthy, landscapes, buildings and other immovable objects were preferred subjects for a lot of the earliest photographers--for this reason, such books also are popular with folks seeking to document the evolution of natural environments and with folks collecting books about architecture)
• Folks collecting books about science, especially chemistry (all photographic processes being chemical prior to the advent of digital photography)
• Folks collecting biographies (biographical information included in many early books of photography may represent the earliest known sources of such information for pioneers in the field)
• Folks collecting printing history (especially information about early publishers and printers, some of which were founded for the specific purpose of publishing early books on photography)
• Folks collecting examples of the book arts (early photography books being representative of early illustrative techniques)
• And collectors in other fields of interest as well....

Collectors who do not have access to unlimited funds will usually, therefore, elect to cover these earliest decades of photography by adding to their bookshelves one or more of the excellent modern histories that are available in the marketplace.  These may be general...

     

or they may be specific to a particular photographic process from those early decades...

    

or they may focus less on the processes of those early decades and more on actual surviving photographs from that era...

   

Or, as a refinement of the above, they may focus on the work of a specific photographer(s) of those earliest decades...

   

In the modern era, collecting works of specific photographers is arguably the most popular method, by far, of creating a private library about photography, as we shall see in tomorrow's post....

Photography and The Private Library (Part VI)

Daguerre's process, as noted in previous posts, took the world by storm, and the discovery was published in a host of languages, most notably in books that were printed the very year that the process was gifted to the world by the French government (1839):

     

However...a  week before France announced its gift to the world (12 August 1839) Daguerre himself had registered a patent for his process in Great Britain.  As things turned out, Great Britain would be the only nation where Daguerre's patent was ever enforced.  

As early as 1834, an English polymath, William Fox Talbot, had engaged in photographic experiments of his own, building upon discoveries made by the astronomer John Herschel (who posited that hyposulphite of soda could be used to permanently fix photographic images) and the noted pottery manufacturer Thomas Wedgwood (who developed a means of copying visible images chemically to permanent media).  Reading of Daguerre's process, Talbot scrambled to stake his own claim to priority of discovery, revealing the details of his process to members of Great Britain's Royal Society several months before Daguerre fully divulged the details of his own process. 

Because Talbot patented his calotype process two years later (1841), he greatly limited adoption of the process.  This, despite the fact that his book depicting the results of this process, The Pencil of Nature, would become one of the most influential books of photography ever published.

The first photographically-illustrated book to be commercially published, The Pencil of Nature was originally issued in parts, though thereafter reprinted numerous times in book form:

Only about fifteen complete sets of the original publication-in-parts are believed to exist, with perhaps another two dozen substantially complete sets also known.  Containing 24 original salted paper prints from paper negatives, the parts were issued over a two-year period (June 1844-April 1846).  Published to promote his patented process, The Pencil of Nature was not initially a commercial success, and Talbot abandoned its publication before a seventh set of plates was prepared.  Talbot's supporting prose text, however, often was as attractive as his photographs, and history would judge this landmark publication much more favorably....

 

This is one of the trifling efforts of [photography’s] infancy, which some partial friends have been kind enough to commend. We have sufficient authority in the Dutch school of art, for taking as subjects of representation scenes of daily and familiar occurrence. A painter’s eye will often be arrested where ordinary people see nothing remarkable. A casual gleam of sunshine, or a shadow thrown across his path, a time withered oak, or a moss covered stone may awaken a train of thoughts and feelings, and picturesque imaginings....

Photography and The Private Library (Part V)

Florence's discovery notwithstanding, it was Daguerre's process that would produce the world's first practical means of taking photographs. 

Summaries of Daguerre's process were published shortly after his presentation to the French Académie des sciences in January of 1839 (in a surprisingly wide range of periodicals, all of which are now very rare and seldom seen in the marketplace).  It was only after the French government bought Daguerre's patent (in exchange for a lifetime pension) and made his process a gift "Free to the World" on 19 August 1839 that the publishing floodgates opened:

 

Books like History and practice of photogenic drawing on the true principles of the daguerréotype: with the new method of dioramic painting: secrets purchased by the French government, and by their command published for the benefit of the arts and manufactures / by the inventor L.J.M. Daguerre managed to reach a third English-language edition before the end of 1839.

The partnership originally created between Daguerre and Niépce had stipulated that [i]n the eventuality of one of the partners demise, this one will be replaced in the company for the rest of the ten years that would not be expired, by his natural heir.  Thus, after Niépce's death in 1833 his position in the partnership was assumed by his son, Isidore.  Isidore made no real contributions to this partnership, and Daguerre took advantage of this by heavily promoting his own process to the detriment of Nicephore Niépce's original discoveries in heliography. Although the French government awarded a lifetime pension of 4000 francs to both Isidore and Daguerre, it was Daguerre's process that received near instant, worldwide fame.

Seeking to avenge the slight to his father, Isidore published in 1841 a pamphlet titled History of the discovery improperly misnamed daguerreotype, preceded by a note from its real inventor Joseph-Nicephore Niépce.

Thus began the long process to rehabilitate the name of Niépce in the annals of photography.  But both Niépce and Daguerre would be overshadowed by an Englishman, whose book (published just three years after the publication of Isidore's pamphlet) would become one of the most influential books ever published in photography....

Photography and The Private Library (Part IV)

The camera obscura was used as an aid to artists for several centuries before Niépce started researching some way to permanently fix the images created by means of this device.  He achieved results as early as May 1816, though the images (which he called retinas) eventually completely blackened and disappeared.

Continued experiments with solutions that light would bleach rather than darken led to Niépce's 1822 discovery of what we know today as the contact print, and from 1824 on he was able to actually fix images by using lithographic stones coated with Judea bitumen.  This process, now known as heliography, would not actually be published until 1839 (when it would be overshadowed by another's improvements).  This would come about through the fortuitous circumstance of Niépce encountering one Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre while traveling to England in December 1827.

Daguerre and Niépce struck up a convivial and productive relationship, and the two men created a partnership in 1829 to try and develop heliography further.  This partnership led in 1832 to the discovery of the physautotype, which used the residue of lavender oil distillation to reduce exposure times from days to as little as eight hours (in the sun).

When Niépce died in 1833 he left his notes to Daguerre, who--despite having no scientific background-- made two additional discoveries that would be important to the history of photography.  He discovered that by exposing silver to iodine vapor before exposing it to light, and then exposing this to mercury fumes after a photograph was taken, one could capture a latent image.  By bathing a plate so exposed in a salt bath, this latent image could then be fixed.

But Daguerre was not the first to discover this process.  In 1832 the French-Brazilian painter and inventor Antoine Hercule Romuald Florence, with the help of a pharmacist friend, Joaquim Correa de Mello, invented a process he called photographie which used silver nitrate on paper to fix images in a process similar to that discovered by Daguerre.  Because of inadequate publicity, no doubt abetted by his being an otherwise obscure inventor in what was then a remote part of the world, Florence is rarely accorded the honors that other important figures in the development of photography receive:

    

On January 7, 1839, Daguerre presented his discoveries to the members of France's Académie des Sciences.  The world would never be the same....

Photography and The Private Library (Part III)

What is believed to be the first published drawing of a pinhole camera was printed in 1545 in a work by the Dutch mathematician, astronomer and mapmaker Gemma Frisius, De Radio Astronomica et Geometrica:

 

Frisius had used this camera obscura (a term coined by Johannes Kepler) to study the solar eclipse of 1544.  An actual photograph taken by a pinhole camera, however, would not be seen until several decades after photographs had been produced by other means (the 1850s, to be precise).

In 1727 a German professor of anatomy, Johann Heinrich Schulze, accidentally discovered that it was light, not heat (as had been presumed from observations in previous centuries) that caused silver salts to darken when exposed to sunlight, though he made no attempt at permanently preserving the images thus created:

I covered the glass with dark material, exposing a little part for the free entry of light. Thus I often wrote names and whole sentences on paper and carefully cut away the inked parts with a sharp knife. I struck the paper thus perforated on the glass with wax. It was not long before the sun's rays, where they hit the glass through the cut-out parts of the paper, wrote each word or sentence on the chalk precipitate so exactly and distinctly that many who were curious about the experiment but ignorant of its nature took occasion to attribute the thing to some sort of trick....

In 1760 a novel, Giphantie, was published by Tiphaigne de la Roche, Charles-François (whose fictional works anticipated inventions such as television and synthetic food):

The book likely would have languished in obscurity were it not for the fact that it fictionally depicts, almost seven decades before the process actually was discovered, modern-day chemical photography:

You know that rays of light reflected from different bodies form pictures, paint the image reflected on all polished surfaces, for example, on the retina of the eye, on water, and on glass. The spirits have sought to fix these fleeting images; they have made a subtle matter by means of which a picture is formed in the twinkling of an eye. They coat a piece of canvas with this matter, and place it in front of the object to be taken. The first effect of this cloth is similar to that of a mirror, but by means of its viscous nature the prepared canvas, as is not the case with the mirror, retains a facsimile of the image. The mirror represents images faithfully, but retains none; our canvas reflects them no less faithfully, but retains them all. This impression of the image is instantaneous. The canvas is then removed and deposited in a dark place. An hour later the impression is dry, and you have a picture the more precious in that no art can imitate its truthfulness....

The books depicted here, like those depicted in yesterday's post, are rarely found in the marketplace, especially in anything approaching Fine condition, and when available command often enormous sums.  This applies also to the books about photography published in the first few decades following Niépce's discovery, as we shall see shortly....

Photography and The Private Library (Part II)

Anyone building a private library about the history of photography is going to have a lot of ground to cover. As we noted in yesterday's post, the principles that underlie photography were known as early as the 5th-4th centuries BCE.  The works of the Chinese philosopher Mozi, for example, mention the effect of inverted images naturally forming through pinholes, an effect also mentioned in the writings of the Greek philosopher Aristotle and the Greek mathematician Euclid, and the principle underlying the pinhole camera. 

This basic idea was expanded upon in the 10th century CE by the famed Arab polymath Ḥasan ibn al-Ḥasan ibn al-Haytham (usually Latinized as Alhacen), known to medieval Europe as the Physicist and to the modern world as the Father of Optics (as well as the Father of the Modern Scientific Method, the Father of Experimental Physics and the Father of Experimental Psychology).  His seven volume Kitab al-Manazir (Book of Optics) is considered one of the most influential works on physics ever written, and in a related work he gives the first clear description and correct analysis of the functioning of a camera obscura. Published over the course of nearly a decade (1011-1021 CE), the Book of Optics was translated into Latin sometime in the late 12th-early 13th centuries and first achieved print in 1572 as Opticae thesaurus: Alhazeni Arabis libri septem, nuncprimum editi; Eiusdem liber De Crepusculis et nubium ascensionibus:

      

A few decades after al_Haytham, the Chinese polymath Shen Kuo established quantitative and geometrical attributes for the camera obscura, while also attributing the invention of movable type (porcelain) to Bi Sheng:

 

Among other early contributions to the history of photography were descriptions of the effect of sunlight and moonlight on silver nitrate (e.g., Albertus Magnus) and silver chloride (e.g., Pliny the Elder); Daniel Barbaro's 1568 description of a lens being used with a camera obscura; and Wilhelm Homberg's 1694 description of the photochemical effect:

But the greatest contributions were yet to come....

Photography and The Private Library (Part I)

Photography so permeates the modern world that one sometimes has difficulty remembering that there once was a time when it was dismissed as decidedly inferior to other plastic arts:

...a new industry has arisen which contributes not a little to confirming stupidity in its faith and to ruining what might have remained of the divine in the French genius. The idolatrous crowd postulates an ideal worthy of itself and appropriate to its nature -- that is perfectly understandable. As far as painting and sculpture are concerned, the current credo of the sophisticated public, above all in France...is this: ‘I believe in Nature, and I believe that Art is, and cannot be other than, the exact reproduction of Nature....Thus an industry that could give us a result identical to Nature would be the absolute of art.’ A vengeful God has granted the wishes of this multitude. Daguerre was his Messiah. And now the public says to itself: ‘Since photography gives us every guarantee of exactitude that we could desire (they really believe that, the idiots!), then photography and Art are the same thing.’ From that moment our squalid society rushed, Narcissus to a man, to gaze at its trivial image on a scrap of metal....Some democratic writer ought to have seen here a cheap method of disseminating a loathing for history and for painting among the people.... - Charles Baudelaire

The principles that underlie photography were known as early as the 5th-4th centuries BCE, so folks collecting books about photography do not lack for titles dedicated to this subject.  One can build a private library of books about photographic theory, about photographic history, about photographic technology.  They can collect books that focus on a single aspect of any of these, books that look at the evolution of each of these, books that celebrate a particular photographic practitioner or a particular photographic subject...even exhibition and auction catalogs of each of these.

Over the next several posts, we will examine each of these, beginning with the history of photography and the earliest known surviving photograph of the real world recorded by Joseph Nicéphore Niépce in 1826:

Eallra Hālgena ǣfen and The Private Library

Eallra Hālgena ǣfen, the Old English name for All Hallows' E'en, is traditionally the evening of All Saint's Day, a Catholic holiday celebrated in many countries around the world on November 1.

Unlike the overtly Christian holiday celebrated tomorrow, though, All Hallow' E'en, known better in its modern secularized form as Halloween, traces its origin to a very ancient, pre-Christian Celtic "festival of the dead" known as Samhain (pronounced Sah-ween).  Christian attempts to co-opt this (and similar) festivals in the early centuries of the Common Era led to many of the traditions now associated with this holiday, such as the wearing of costumes, offerings of food and drink, and so forth.

While many fictional Halloween-themed books are readily available in the marketplace, the number of books that seriously examine the holiday itself are surprisingly few:

      

What one will more likely encounter on booksellers' shelves are various books about ways to entertain and make merry on this holiday:

    

The self-described "Halloween Capitol of the World," Anoka, Minnesota, also is the subject of a book, which may be of interest to folks who collect local histories (see our post of 27 October 2009):

 

Because this holiday has become so commercialized, many book collectors use this situation to their advantage in collecting books about Halloween--i.e., in addition to books, they collect early advertising about the holiday, as well as early greeting cards and other ephemera....

    

Finnish Literature and The Private Library

An anniversary of some importance went largely unnoticed by the world of books a few weeks ago: October 10 was the 175th birthday of Aleksis Kivi (born Alexsis Stenvall).  And who, you ask, was Aleksis Kivi?  He was the Father of Finnish Literature.

Finnish literature was a late bloomer among the world's great literatures.  Although one of the world's greatest repositories of folklore (Suomen Kansan Vanhat Runot [Ancient Poems of the Finnish People] comprises some 27,000 pages published in 33 volumes over a 40 year period--and that represents only about half of Finland's known folklore!), the literature of Finland was largely written in Latin or Swedish until the publication of Kivi's landmark novel, Seitsemän veljestä (Seven Sons) in 1870:

 

Because Finland was long dominated by Sweden (1249-1809) and Russia (1809-1918), Seven Sons and other early Finnish-language literature was focused largely on achieving and maintaining a strong Finnish identity, written works in the Finnish language being an essential component of this effort. 

This focus in reflected in the early works of authors like the 1939 Nobel Laureate in Literature, Frans Eemil Sillanpää, and in titles like Väinö Linna's Tuntematon Sotilas (The Unknown Soldier):

 

Slowly (understandably, too slowly for some), the great literature of this tiny nation, written in its own language, has filtered out to the rest of the world: Mika Toimi Waltari's Sinuhe egyptiläinen (The Egyptian); the poetry of Eino Leino (born Armas Einar Leopold Lönnbohm); the adventures of Finland's contribution to world pop culture, the Moomins (authored by Tove Jansson)...

      

And it all started with Aleksis Kivi. 

Happy (Belated) 175th Birthday...!

Language Death and The Private Library

What impact does the increasingly rapid extinction of the world's languages have on one's pursuit of a private library?  Are there experiences, ways of knowing, ways of appreciating the world around us that will forever be lost to one's private library and, more importantly, to all of humankind because we have not the skill, or perhaps the inclination, to comprehend the language(s) in which these varieties of human experience are cataloged?  How mean and narrow does one's worldview become if humanity is  limited to depicting, and comprehending, the planet's infinite variety of lived experience only in English, or German, or French or Mandarin?  What do languages like Iñupiaq, Udeghe and xasonké teach us about the world that our own language does not?

Roughly every two weeks one of the world's 6900 known languages becomes extinct.  Some folks do not see this as a problem: if everyone on the planet spoke and read only one language, that would be fine by them.  They see one world, one language as a way past all kinds of problems that can be traced to the fact that "what we have here is a failure to communicate."  They often argue that many of the languages that are going extinct are only oral, and thus of little consequence.  Those who disagree with this line of thought nonetheless recognize that preserving these endangered languages in written form is critical to their survival, and have begun producing dictionaries and grammars of many of them:

    

Languages become extinct in a variety of ways.  Such extinction often is a by-product of assimilation, whereby a language group, voluntarily or otherwise, transfers its allegiance to a new language.  This sort of process was a common occurrence among peoples conquered by the ancient Roman Empire.  A more voluntary form of assimilation can be seen in the modern world, where Latin, then French, then English came to be seen by many non-native speakers as having greater commercial, academic or other utility than one's native language(s) and so was adopted as a language of choice.

Those who seek to fight this trend towards extinction frequently begin by learning to speak (and where the language has been preserved in written form) to read a dying language.  There are far worse things one can do than collect books written in a dying language....

Kindles (Redux) and The Private Library

In our post of 17 October 2009, we examined briefly a few experiences with the Kindle, seeking to assess what sort of reading experience use of this device conveyed compared to reading an actual book.  We deliberately did not seek to address the question of whether or not the Kindle represented the death of books, since (1) we had already addressed that topic (albeit obliquely) in our posts of 7 and 15 October 2009, and (2) such a topic tends to lead to...overanxiety...in some quarters, as will become apparent shortly.

To set the stage: In 1957, one of the most influential of all 20th century literary magazines made its debut in America.  Called The Evergreen Review, it was the first to publish a major collection of works by the so-called Beat Writers, and during its roughly decade and a half of print existence (1957-1973) it consistently published some of the most avant garde, counter-culture writing in America:

In 1998, this much beloved (at least in some quarters) magazine was resurrected in an online-only format by its original publisher, Barney Rosset (once labeled "the most dangerous man in publishing").  And it's back up to its old tricks, tweaking received wisdom from whatever source.  Its latest victim: the Kindle.

In a recent article that already has generated a firestorm of indignation in certain quarters, author Alan Kaufman accuses the Kindle of "electronic book burning," and that's among the mildest of the charges that he levels against the device.  You can read the entire article here.

What is interesting to this reader is that most of the indignation this article has aroused centers around Kaufman's unfortunate (though deliberately provocative) use of Holocaust metaphors (e.g., "a silent corporate Krystallnacht decimating the world of literacy"), rather than the often valid points that the author makes about print publishing.

We would be interested to hear what our readers think of Kaufman's thesis....

Local Histories and The Private Library

There once was a time when pretty much everyone on Planet Earth grew up, lived and died within a few miles of their place of birth.  

That time has long since passed in the industrialized nations of the world, and with it has passed much of the rootedness that characterized such life: a well-developed sense of place, to which one and one's neighbors belonged and with which every single resident's well-being and livelihood were intricately intertwined.

Much ink has been spilt these past few centuries over the negative consequences to modern industrial societies of humankind's increasing disconnect from the land, but it is not our purpose in this post to recapitulate that battle.  Rather, we want to examine a means whereby some book collectors try to recapture that lost sense of place...by collecting local histories:

 

A private library of local histories can be quite small, if focused on an obscure village that chroniclers of history have largely bypassed, or quite large, if one's village grew into a town, then into a city, then into a megalopolis.  If the latter, one's private library of local histories may well expand to include such ancillary materials as city directories and telephone books; biographies of families and/or individuals that are/were prominent in one's local area; local business, church and cemetery records and histories; publications of local historical societies; records and histories of local governments; and so forth:

All of this is quite familiar to genealogists, who are among the most fervent collectors of such books and related materials, though admittedly many genealogists are much more interested in lines of kinship than they are in local history per se, even where such lines of kinship are geographically quite restricted.

For the most part, many of these local histories and ancillary materials can be added to one's personal library quite inexpensively.  In fact, they frequently are encountered as discards at local library and friends-of-the-library book sales, as well as occasionally turning up at yard and garage sales.  Much of one's luck in inexpensively obtaining such books depends on whether or not one lives in an area with an active local history tradition, such as is the case in most of Great Britain and in certain areas of the United States such as New York and Pennsylvania:

One has to approach all such histories with a degree of caution, since virtually none were written by professionally-trained historians.  Accordingly, while the extraordinary natural beauty, charming architecture and other memorable assets of a local area may in fact be more or less objectively conveyed, things like grinding poverty, narrow-mindedness and less commendable characteristics often are somewhat...understated.  (This also is true of much of the elegiac fiction produced about such places.)

If you are interested in building a private library around this topic, a great place to start is by contacting one's local historical society for a list of books that may have been published regarding the locale(s) in which you're interested.  Many of these historical societies have an online presence, and some have gone so far as to digitize local histories for their area:

• Alberta (Canada) Heritage Digitization Project
• British Local History Online
• Illinois Harvest (Digitized Collection of Illinois Local Histories)
• Inventory of Heritage Organisations In Europe (Portal to European Local Histories)

A simple Internet search will reveal many more such resources.

Local histories are much beloved by collectors of the book arts, as such histories often contain exemplars of a wide variety of early illustrative techniques such as woodcuts, steel engravings and the like:

 

Whatever one's reasons for collecting local histories, one will find the pursuit worthy of much sustained attention....

Potentially Great Book Cities and The Private Library

A lot of factors go into making your ordinary everyday metropolis a great book city.  In cities where the average book is very expensive, or where the number of independently owned "brick & mortar" bookstores is limited, there has to be a real public commitment towards getting books into the hands of a literate reading public that may not otherwise be able to afford or easily find a wide selection of books. (Keep in mind that not all citizens of Planet Earth have Internet access, and that even where such access is available, they may not be able to easily or inexpensively import books due to trade tariffs, quotas and other political impediments.) 

Cities that exhibit the commitment noted above may reasonably be said to approach greatness as a book city, and few major cities illustrate this type of commitment better than Santiago, Chile:

If you do most of your reading on subway trains, Santiago is your kind of city: its BiblioMetro places branches of Santiago's public library system right inside many of the city's subway stations (another branch is located in an old railroad car directly opposite Chile's National Archives):

Santiago--as befits Chile's capitol and largest city--is home to over two dozen universities, two symphony orchestras, and numerous museums and other cultural institutions.  All this culture notwithstanding, books in Santiago are very pricey, few bookstores are independently owned, and Spanish-language books are about all that one will find on offer.  (Truly great book cities offer books in a wealth of languages.)

Santiago's BiblioMetro, to its great and lasting credit, puts books into the hands of a literate populace that, except for a minority of well-heeled citizens, probably can ill afford to create private libraries. (Another governmental initiative, Maletín Literario, was created recently to give free books to some 400,000 families living in poverty.  Right-wing critics had argued that "delivering Kafka to families on welfare" was an inefficient use of government funds, but proponents successfully counter-argued that the poor also have a right to great literature.)

Because Chile has been South America's fastest growing economy for the past 15 years, one hopes the country's overall economic good fortune eventually will trickle down to the average book buyer....

ARCs and The Private Library

An ARC, or advance reading copy, is a pre-publication copy of a book that usually is released 3-6 months prior to a book's publication date in order to give book reviewers, major book chains and the like an opportunity to review a book's potential.  ARCs generally do not have the format, binding or dustjacket of the final finished book.  The text of an ARC also may differ from that of the final product if the ARC is edited before a book is published in its final form.  If issued as uncorrected bound proofs, also known as galley proofs, the advance copy usually is larger than the finished product.  Color is often found in ARCs, but galley proofs are usually black & white.  A confidentiality agreement may be required of ARC recipients for controversial books or books for which a sizable audience is anticipated:

      

First Edition, First Printing of Raymond Chandler's Farewell, My Lovely, next to its Advance Reading Copy

As noted in Carter's ABC for Book Collectors, an advance reading copy does not represent "a first or early issue in the proper sense of the word," nor does it "prejudice in any way the firstness of the first edition as issued on the day of publication."  That said, there nonetheless are many book collectors who prize ARCs as being closest in time (if not always in content) to an author's original manuscript.  And because most ARC print runs rarely exceed a couple of hundred copies, this automatically gives them the scarcity so valued by many book collectors:

     

Galley proof of J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter & The Prisoner Of Azkaban next to its true First Edition, First Issue

Although their print runs usually are many times smaller, ARCs and galley proofs often are much less expensive than an equivalent First Edition, First Printing of the same title (especially during the first year or so of publication, when ARCs and galley proofs are most often available in the marketplace).  For many advanced collectors, this alone makes ARCs as attractive as pollen to bees....

Links and The Private Library

If you are following this blog via email subscription, and you have subscribed to a text only version instead of an HTML version, then you are missing 99% of the value of this blog.  Here's why...

This is our 213th consecutive post.  Virtually every one of these posts has contained numerous links--sometimes a dozen or more within a single post.  If you are unable to click on these links because you are unable to identify them, here's is some of what you're missing:

• bibliographies
• biographies
• suggested additional reading
• author-specific websites & societies
• title-specific websites & societies
• subject-specific websites & societies
• debates about specific authors, titles or subjects
• where to buy library furnishings, specific titles, etc. 

Most of these resources are not duplicated in the links that adorn the left- and right-hand sides of our blog.

We suggest you switch to an HTML-enabled email subscription or an HTML-enabled RSS reader to fully take advantage of everything that's on offer.

Enjoy!

Fantasy and The Private Library (Part V)

It is a fascinating piece of historical coincidence that the last half-century of English-language publishing is bookended by the phenomenal public reception of two different exemplars of "mere" genre literature, and that the genre in both instances happens to be fantasy.  Although Tolkien's magnum opus did not get off to the quick start that Rowling's boy wizard would, Lord of the Rings is now widely acknowledged as arguably the most influential work of fantasy ever published: 

 

But between these two fantasy blockbusters (which have been seriously "dumbed down" for the movies), there exist a fascinating array of other works of fantasy, many of which have been ignored by all but true students of the genre.  In addition to better known works like Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time series and Ursula K. Le Guin's Earthsea Cycle, one encounters works such as R. Scott Bakker's The Prince of Nothing trilogy (a dark foray into existentialism), Robert Holdstock's Mythago Cycle (channeling Lord Dunsany) and George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire saga (brutal, dark fantasy for grown-ups):

If one gets the impression that much of this writing is aimed at men, there are many male critics who would disagree...vocally: Fantasy, a realm formerly associated with nerdy males and authors like Robert E. Howard...is now thoroughly the province of tween girls.  

Of course, this sort of criticism is largely the result of an extraordinarily successful foray into a single sub-genre, dark fantasy, so only time will tell what impact such successes will have on fantasy's overall demographics:

The best way to sample more of what this genre (or science fiction, the genre with which it most frequently overlaps) has to offer is to visit either (or both) The Internet Speculative Fiction Database (which also covers horror) or the Science Fiction and Fantasy Research Database.  You will find links for both in the left-hand column of this blog under Selected Bibliographic Resources....

Fantasy and The Private Library (Part IV)

Among the short stories that helped fantasy cement its modern status as an independent genre were several that introduced new fantasy sub-genres.

In 1895, John Kendrick Bangs published a collection of short stories titled A House-Boat on the Styx, which examines what "would happen if various famous dead people were put in the same room with each other."  This sort of fictional fantasy set in the afterlife would henceforth be termed Bangsian fantasy, and would influence writers as diverse as Kurt Vonnegut and Philip José Farmer: 

    

Beginning with The Gods of Pegāna in 1905, Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett, 18th Baron of Dunsany (forever known to literature as Lord Dunsany), began publishing short stories and novels that would have an enormous influence on the entire fantasy genre, being set--as most were--within self-contained, invented worlds that had their own history and geography:

    

In the early decades of the 20th century, the rise of pulp fiction gave new impetus to the creation of works of fantasy.  The magazine Weird Tales was particularly receptive to fantasy, publishing--among many others--the Conan the Barbarian short stories of Robert E. Howard, and was--from 1923 to 1954--far and away the most influential magazine in the genre, and was influential as well in the development of other genres, most notably science fiction (see our posts of 4-7 July 2009) and horror (see our posts of 12-16 September 2009).  Among the many authors who first saw print in Weird Tales are H. P. Lovecraft, Ray Bradbury and Tennessee Williams:

The magazine was revived for four issues in the 1970s, and four paperback anthologies were published between 1981-1983.  The magazine was more lastingly resurrected in 1988 and now publishes in both print and electronic formats. Its influence finally was recognized with a Hugo Award in August 2009....

Fantasy and The Private Library (Part III)

Some critics have observed that what distinguishes modern works of fantasy from their ancient and classical prototypes is that (1) modern fantasy is fictitious by design, (2) the themes are the interpretation of a particular author, and (3) modern works of fantasy are set in their own world, not in the real world where readers live.

Unlike the ancient writers of fantastical works, modern writers of such works do not believe in the fantastical elements of their tales.  Moreover, it is not tradition that is responsible for a work's fantastical elements, but rather an individual who may not follow tradition in any aspect of his or her fantasy. Finally, unlike traditional tales of the fantastic which took place in ambiguously defined places or time periods, modern works of fantasy tend to be set in well-defined places and/or times that clearly are separate from our own everyday reality.  This accounts in large part for the books in series aspect of modern fantasy--creating new worlds, new universes even, each often having their own language(s), all this often requires a good bit of writing:

The first English-language work to incorporate all the elements that we recognize as modern fantasy fiction for adults is probably George MacDonald's Phantastes: a Faerie Romance for Men and Women (1858).  Friend and mentor to Charles Dodgson, and an acknowledged influence on later fantasy writers such as J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis, this Scottish poet and minister created in his first published novel "one of the least understood books in the English tradition," which is largely due to critics' "many conflicting theories about the book's supposed meanings, structures, and antecedents:"

  

It was not, however, the novel, but rather short stories that would establish adult fantasy as a popular genre in the decades immediately following Phantastes' publication, as we shall see tomorrow....

Fantasy and The Private Library (Part II)

We mentioned in yesterday's post that it often is difficult to know where fantasy ends and science fiction begins, and vice versa.  Actually, if one looks at some of the more popular sub-genres of fantasy (as noted in this lengthy list), it often is difficult to tell where fantasy ends and lots of other genres begin.

Although fantasy can trace its archetypal tropes, themes and symbolism to humanity's earliest mythologies, fairy tales and folklore, the permeable borders it shares with other genres is what makes it possible for the overall genre to be divided into so many popular sub-genres.  The sword and sorcery fantasy sub-genre, for example, is influenced not only by mythologies and epics like the Norse sagas, but also by such other genres as the historical fiction of authors like Sir Walter Scott and the swashbuckling tales of authors like Alexander Dumas:

In addition to the permeability of the borders that fantasy shares with other genres, fantasy is one of the few genres where the distinction between child and adult frequently is not clearly drawn, nor is such distinction necessarily important to either the story or the audience:

    

Finally, like other critically dismissed genres such as science fiction and the western, fantasy was propelled to new heights of readership by pulp fiction, a topic to which we shall turn tomorrow....

Fantasy and The Private Library (Part I)

If you enjoy collecting books about elves and goblins, wizards and witches, dragons and dragon slayers, damsels in distress and knights in shining armor who have been unfairly usurped from their thrones, congratulations--your private library is being constructed around one of the most popular of all literary genres, fantasy:

 

It often is very difficult to separate fantasy from science fiction, especially in sub-genres like science fantasy.  Perhaps the best working definition for a distinction between the two genres is that put forward by famed author Isaac Asimov: science fiction, given its grounding in science, is possible; fantasy, which has no grounding in reality, is not.

The fantasy genre draws upon some of humanity's oldest archetypes, archetypes which are found in the foundational literature of all cultures:

 

Despite the great antiquity of the genre, fantasy--like many other fictional genres (e.g., romance, science fiction and westerns)--often is not taken seriously as literature.  As Matt Sanchez has noted,

...fantasy could be said to be the progenitor from which the other forms came from. Fantasy's habit of taking real-life situations and characters and introducing them into a world where unexpected (and unexplainable) things happen has resonated with readers since the earliest days.

The very first recorded literary works in history were fantasy: the Epic of Gilgamesh, Homer's Odyssey, The Book of a Thousand Nights and a Night (which featured the first appearances of Sinbad and Aladdin) and countless others were the prototypes upon which modern literature was formed.

Despite this, fantasy today retains an image of literary inconsequence....

Over the next several days we will examine this genre in more detail, including an exploration of why this genre is such a popular choice for books in series....

Best Places to Read and The Private Library

The reading experience, as we noted in yesterday's post, is comprised not only of what we are reading, but where we are reading it. And the best place to read is not always the same place for every book or for every time one wishes to read.

If one is fortunate enough to have a well-designed and well-stocked private library à la the aristocracy in days of yore, with plush chairs and reading tables artfully arranged around a blazing fireplace, that may well be one's favorite place for all types of reading, whatever the book, or the weather, or....

But if one's private library is a couple of overturned milk crates surmounted by a couple of planks retrieved from a pile of trash somewhere, one might prefer to read certain books elsewhere, especially if the weather is nice:

One's age likely will have much to do with one's preferred locale for indulging in a good book. Hiding under the blanket on one's bed, flashlight in one hand and book in the other, may be ideal at age seven, but perhaps not so much if one is married and has a spouse who is trying to sleep.  Reading while being gently rocked in a hammock may work well at age 25, but if one is 65 and arthritic, maybe not so much....

We note below a few different perspectives about how place impacts the reading experience:

• Cafe Reading
• Impediments to Enjoyable Reading
• PAWS to Read
• Rekindling the Victorian Reading Experience

Books, Kindles, the Reading Experience and The Private Library

One's experience of reading is always intensely personal.  

Some folks like to read with music on, or the television on, or with a cat curled up in their lap.  Other folks prefer to read without any distractions whatsoever.

Some folks have no problem holding a book in one hand while they cling to a subway strap with the other hand.  Not only can they read without missing their subway stop, they can instantly pick up where they left off if they are jostled by other passengers.  Other folks would never, ever, consider trying to read while standing up on a subway.

Some folks can read in public libraries while nearby patrons are engaged in spirited conversation. Others are more likely to seek out a quiet reading room.

Some folks prefer to collect hardbacks (especially if they are collecting for the long-term), but prefer to read paperbacks.  Or they may prefer to read hardbacks, but not above a certain size (books larger than octavo may be too weighty or cumbersome for the environment in which they are reading). [Of course, many books--like Audubon's four-volume double-elephant folio, Birds of America, or Bruce Rogers' Oxford Lectern Bible--never were intended for casual reading:]

Early visitors to the Cincinnati Public Library with a volume of Audubon's magnum opus

In short, the reading experience is not just a function of what one is reading, but also where one is reading.  For those who have access to such technology, is the experience of reading a Kindle that much different from the experience of reading a book?  Here's what some folks have to say about the experience of reading both....

• A Kindle Trick Changes the Reading Experience
• A New Page
• The Kindle Problem
• The Kindle Test Drive

Assuming there is a difference in the reading experience, does it matter in terms of building a private library?  What if the books you're reading are not the same as the books you are collecting...?

Housekeeping at The Private Library

We have been saving up your private comments, questions and suggestions until they reached some sort of critical mass where we could deal with them publicly, since if you have a concern, others may have the concern as well but be unable or unwilling to articulate it.

So, here goes...

No, The Private Library does not do book reviews.  Our focus is on the forest (building a private library), not on individual trees (reviews of specific titles, especially titles that have just been, or are about to be, published).  There are hundreds, if not thousands, of blogs that will review your book, some of which you will find under Bookish BlogRoll in the right-hand column of this blog.

That said, we never turn down a free book, or promotional materials dealing with any aspect of book publishing or acquisitions, since it helps us keep track of publishing trends in various genres, countries, etc.  Such material can be mailed to us at: The Private Library, Box 902317, Palmdale, CA 93590-2317 USA.

Note: we do not return such material, so before you go to the expense, consider whether the same information can be provided electronically.  If so, you will save time and money by simply directing our attention to the appropriate links.  Our email address (which you can click on at the top of the right-hand column of this blog) is privatelibrary@hotmail.com

Yes, we do still have free business cards that we can send you if you want to share The Private Library with friends, relatives and other book lovers (see our post of 23 July 2009).  You can mail or email your request for these to the addresses noted above.

We are indeed still very much interested in guest editorials, as we have pointed out in several previous posts.  If you would like to pen one (or several) about a topic appropriate to our readership, we would be happy to publish it.  Send us an email with the details.  (Book clubs might find this a useful means of letting our readership know that they exist.  Blogs might find this a useful way to garner more readers.  Booksellers might find this a useful way to garner more customers.  A little history, a little biography....)

The Private Library is non-commercial.  We will remain so as long as we find it fiscally feasible. For now, no advertising is accepted....

The Twilight of Bookselling and The Private Library

In our post of 7 October 2009 we looked briefly at a few issues impacting book collecting.  We had hoped for a response to this dispatch from some of our more seasoned collectors and/or booksellers, but having received none, we thought we might offer a more lengthy missive on much the same topic from one of our favorite booksellers and essayists, David Mason, owner of David Mason Books:

 
We have never had the pleasure of meeting David in person, but we have followed his career with some interest since first becoming aware of him through a lecture he gave at the Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library in Toronto almost 15 years ago.  One of the most knowledgeable booksellers of his generation, David pulls no punches when he examines bookselling in the Age of the Internet.

So grab yourself a cup of coffee (or tea), and maybe a bite to eat, and settle in for a while.  'Cause this ain't some ignorant yo-yo tellin' ya how it is.  You might actually want to pay attention, 'cause it's all about Selling Civilization....

Suffragist Literature and The Private Library (Part IV)

The philosophies underpinning the women's suffragist movement(s) often were more eloquently and poignantly stated in fiction rather than in essays.

As Sarah Baldwin has suggested, as early as 1868 fictional works like Louisa May Alcott's Little Women (or Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy) began to reflect the belief that women had talents and abilities they should pursue to become full, mature adults:

This view was presented with particular force in fictional works like Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House (1879), in which the protagonist eventually leaves her family in order to become "a real person:"

After making a great sacrifice on behalf of her husband, who (it turns out) is not the great and noble being that she had long imagined him to be, Nora realizes that

...before all else I am a human being, just as much as you are -- or, at least, I will try to become one. I know that most people agree with you, Torvald, and that they say so in books. But henceforth I can't be satisfied with what most people say, and what is in books. I must think things out for myself and try to get clear about them.... I had been living here these eight years with a strange man, and had borne him three children -- Oh! I can't bear to think of it -- I could tear myself to pieces!... I can't spend the night in a strange man's house.

To say that audiences of the day were shocked by a woman mouthing such words is a very considerable understatement.

Imagine their surprise, then, when just a few years later (1892) an African-American woman penned a groundbreaking novel that addressed not only the plight of women, but the insidious effects of racism as well:

Abolitionist and poet Frances Harper's seminal work addresses its multiple themes by focusing on a female protagonist of mixed race.

More such fiction followed in short order.  Charlotte Perkins Gilman explored the previously taboo subject of post-partum depression in The Yellow Wallpaper (1st published in book form in 1899).  Gilman, who first achieved fame with her 1898 work Women and Economics – A Study of the Economic Relation Between Men and Women as a Factor in Social Evolution, is recognized--as are most of the women discussed in our three previous posts on this subject--by enshrinement in the National Women's Hall of Fame. 

An even more groundbreaking work also was published in 1899, a fictional work that had the temerity to suggest that sexuality might be important to a woman realizing her fullest potential as a human being:

Such works continue to be published down to the present day, since the battle for women's rights, like the battle for other civil rights, is never fully won....

Suffragist Literature and The Private Library (Part III)

In addition to histories of the suffragist movement(s), and biographies of the movement's many leaders, supporters and (sometimes) detractors, most folks building a private library focused on such movement also add to their bookshelves a wide range of works regarding the philosophies that underpinned this movement:

The above title, by the mother of Mary Shelley (author of Frankenstein; or the Modern Prometheus), is arguably the most desirable of all such works of "philosophy," and is almost never found in anything approaching Fine condition (in fact, the above image depicts the second edition).

Mary Wollstonecraft saw education as the key to the advancement of women's rights, a theme she had briefly foreshadowed in her first book, Thoughts on the education of daughters: with reflections on female conduct, in the more important duties of life, published in 1787.  Her travels in France during the last decade of the 18th century significantly reinforced this belief.

Folks often are surprised to discover that women's rights were broader in the Islamic world in the 7th century than they would be in Western Europe until the 19th century.  The advent of the so-called Age of Enlightenment in 18th century Europe led the French playwright and political activist Olympe de Gouges to declare, in her 1791 work Declarations des droits de la femme et de la citoyenne (Declaration of the rights of woman and of the [female] citizen): [The French Revolution] will only take effect when all women become fully aware of their deplorable condition, and of the rights they have lost in society.

This important work is very difficult to come by, and it is only recently that de Gouges has been treated to a long overdue biography:

     
In the United States, other early philosophical underpinnings of the suffragist movement are found in works like Emma Willard's An Address to the Public; Particularly to the Members of the Legislature of New-York; Proposing a Plan for Improving Female Education (1818); Sarah Grimké's Letters on the Equality of the Sexes and the Condition of Women (1st published in book form in 1838); and Margaret Fuller's Woman in the Nineteenth Century (1st published in book form in 1845):

Much of the philosophy underpinning the movement, however, appeared not in essays like the above, but rather in works of fiction, which topic will be the focus of tomorrow's post....

Suffragist Literature and The Private Library (Part II)

The suffragist movement in the United States, like similar movements elsewhere (most notably in Great Britain), was organized, promoted and led by a wide range of women, as well as a number of men. Because the early suffragists in Great Britain did not produce their own history of the movement (as did Anthony, Stanton & Gage in the United States--see yesterday's post), it's not uncommon for folks collecting biographies and autobiographies of U.S. suffragists also to collect those of suffragists in other countries as well:

Emmeline Pankhurst and her followers in Great Britain preferred the term suffragette, not suffragist.  As was the case in the United States, the movement in Great Britain was not monolithic.  Pankhurst's organization, the Women's Social and Political Union, was very militant, more militant even than Anthony's National Women's Suffrage Association (NWSA).  This militancy, which included prison hunger strikes and arson, among other tactics, eventually would lead two of Pankhurst's own daughters to resign from the organization.  Among the many notable suffragettes who followed Pankhurst, one finds Frances Parker, niece of Lord Kitchener; Lady Constance Georgina Bulwer-Lytton, whose paternal grandfather penned an immortal ode to nights "dark and stormy;" and the Scottish poet Helen Cruickshank:

Constance Bulwer-Lytton, Prisons and Prisoners: Some Personal Experiences (1914)

The suffragist movement in the United States produced a large number of notable biographies and autobiographies, especially for Anthony, Stanton and fellow NWSA members.  Fortunately, in recent decades the less militant side of the U.S. movement has received an increasing amount of biographical attention:

Some of the more interesting biographies are collective rather than individual (one frequently encounters such collective biographies where several members of the same family engaged in similar types of activism):

Biographies and autobiographies of movement members, as well as histories of the movements themselves (covered in yesterday's post), are not the only types of books that collectors of this material seek for their shelves.  The philosophies that underlie such movements also are important, as we will see in tomorrow's post....

Suffragist Literature and The Private Library (Part I)

On 14 July 1848, an obscure newspaper in upstate New York, the Seneca County Courier, ran a small ad that launched a movement:

WOMAN'S RIGHTS CONVENTION-A Convention to discuss the social, civil, and religious condition and rights of women, will be held in the Wesleyan Chapel, at Seneca Falls, New York, on Wednesday and Thursday, the 19th and 20th of July, current; commencing at 10 o'clock A.M. During the first day the meeting will be exclusively for women, who are earnestly invited to attend. The public generally are invited to be present on the second day, when Lucretia Mott, of Philadelphia, and other ladies and gentlemen, will address the convention.

The women's suffrage movement that was launched at the Seneca Falls Convention did not occur in a vacuum. Suffrage (the right to vote) had been extended to women in various places and at various times throughout history.  In fact, women's suffrage often preceeded universal suffrage, the effect being that only women of certain classes or races sometimes won the right to vote.  (In medieval France, for example, voting for city and town assemblies was open only to heads of households, though gender was irrelevant. During Sweden's so-called age of liberty from 1718-1771, only women who were tax-paying guild members could vote.)

The U.S. movement would last for seven decades and produce an enormous body of literature.  This literature is widely collected.

One of the most popular ways to collect this literature is to focus on histories of the movement. Arguably the most desirable of all such histories is The History of Woman Suffrage, published in six volumes over nearly half a century (1871-1922).  Four of those volumes are depicted below:

The first three volumes were edited by Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Matilda Joslyn Gage. Anthony was the instigator for the project, believing that if the movement's history was to be accurately recorded, the participants themselves would have to record it. As Sarah Baldwin has pointed out, when it became apparent that the venture could not succeed purely as a commercial endeavor, Anthony (who had tirelessly raised money for the project from a wide range of contributors), took over the copyrights and she and her assistant, Ida Husted Harper, continued to gather material for future volumes. 

The U.S. movement was never monolithic (a fact keenly felt by many African-American women), and this is reflected in the six volumes under discussion. Anthony, Stanton and Gage (all of whom were members of the National Woman Suffrage Association) had solicited contributions for the volumes from Lucy Stone, a member of the more conservative American Woman Suffrage Association, but wound up publishing very little about the latter organization.  Thus, the early history of the movement is skewed, a fact which later histories would take pains to correct:

The two organizations, which had organized independently in 1869 due to major differences over strategy, would merge decades later, in 1890, a merger that would cause the movement as a whole to become more conservative in later decades.  This is notable in the final three volumes of The History of Woman Suffrage, as these feature a distinct "lack of fervor" compared to those edited by the early triumverate.

Tomorrow, we will look at another popular way to collect the literature of this movement, by focusing on biographies of some of the movement's major figures....