"I’m captivated by the work of the text designer, who, as you can see, has chosen to begin each new entry just to the right of the end of the previous entry, with two rather thudding asterisks for decoration." Thank you for noting this. I scanned the pages without reading the text and absorbed the layout without registering it. I had to go back and see what you were commenting on. The asterisks are thudding and the beginning and ending of pages was not considered, but this formatting encourages continuous reading—and makes it easy. Pages of snippets are not pleasant to read. No continuity. This layout encourages reading each snippet as part of the last. And solves the problem of the darker text-heavy left side and the white of the spacing on the right side. I love it when copy editors point out things like this. With a lifetime in the visual arts I have a very hard time with (1) the distractions of bad text layouts, (2) people who say it has to be that way—it's all done by machine now, and (3) it doesn't make any difference; no one notices. I'm in a discussion with a self-published author now about the horrible text layout of a very wonderful book. It won't be taken seriously by her audience.
This is the sort of book that I suspect an RH designer would have laid out entirely by hand for the first set of pages (probably eliminating all short lines etc. so that the bound galleys would look especially nice) and then perhaps invited a compositor to do whatever refinement was called for for subsequent passes.
But “it’s all done by machine” is indeed a big nope.
And I think that readers certainly do notice badly laid out pages.
Yes, we do! Many readers notice only subconsciously, as in "it looks weird." (This is a comment from my digitally native son peeking over my shoulder as I was reading some proofs for print.) I am an old person, and a literate fussbudget, so bad layouts have a fingernails-on-the-chalkboard effect for me. (Now there's an old person metaphor!)
I’m sure I’ll write at length about her one of these days. I have been known to note that she has one of the strongest narrative voices I’ve ever encountered.
I can’t help thinking that the bit about Prince Alexis is a dig at Kitty Carlisle, although that’s not _exactly_ her name during her multiple stints, over the decades, in Fledermaus.
Ah yes, these little typos we leave behind to remind ourselves that we’re human. (I’ve fixed it. If you feel like popping back into the piece, you’ll also see a few other small repairs, as Shawn Colvin might say, and a couple of extra pictures, as a reward.)
We call Sallie any number of things (of course, like all good dog parents), but not that.
It is a tragedy that something billed as A Gay Musical Novelty was destined to fail. Twice.
I have come to realise that I am really anti any hint of indent at the start of a paragraph, and agree with you that starting flush left would, obviously, have been so much the better option. But then, the whole thing is so horrid to look at (as my grandmother would have said: ‘it gives me the sick’) not even that would have saved it.
I'm constantly berating my students about bad page breaks. As is so often the case when I am berating them about some pet peeve of mine, they are mostly baffled.
These snippets are fabulous, and they make want to read the whole book. Thanks for sharing them!
I find GJN endlessly fascinating, and when he wanders off into lists of the worst plays he’s ever seen, or the prettiest ingenues in the history of the musical theater, or the best actresses of the twentieth century (I’d have to find the essay, but I think he may well have selected Helen Hayes over Kit Cornell, Ethel Barrymore, Judith Anderson, and all the rest, which certainly makes one wish to have seen Helen Hayes onstage), I’m completely rapt. (He was not an admirer of Katharine Hepburn’s acting, though he conceded that she had an arresting personality and good legs, and he appreciated Lynn Fontanne and Alfred but thought they wasted their time performing garbage.)
I also wonder what kind of personal library/filing system he must have maintained, because his ability to reel off ancient data and statistics would be impressive even in the online era.
The sawed-off bit on p. 77 caused me to look back at the earlier pages to make sure the text design didn’t include catchwords, because that’s what I first thought it was. Catchwords always felt like hiccups to me whenever I encountered them, although I guess they were useful for people reading aloud (as one did in the 19th century), trying to turn the page without halting their delivery.
I think I might have a book somewhere around here with catchwords.
You're also reminding me of the a's, b'c, c's, etc., you'd occasionally see at the bottoms of every sixteenth page so that whoever was binding the books could confirm that the signatures were in order. (If I'm remembering that correctly.)
"I’m captivated by the work of the text designer, who, as you can see, has chosen to begin each new entry just to the right of the end of the previous entry, with two rather thudding asterisks for decoration." Thank you for noting this. I scanned the pages without reading the text and absorbed the layout without registering it. I had to go back and see what you were commenting on. The asterisks are thudding and the beginning and ending of pages was not considered, but this formatting encourages continuous reading—and makes it easy. Pages of snippets are not pleasant to read. No continuity. This layout encourages reading each snippet as part of the last. And solves the problem of the darker text-heavy left side and the white of the spacing on the right side. I love it when copy editors point out things like this. With a lifetime in the visual arts I have a very hard time with (1) the distractions of bad text layouts, (2) people who say it has to be that way—it's all done by machine now, and (3) it doesn't make any difference; no one notices. I'm in a discussion with a self-published author now about the horrible text layout of a very wonderful book. It won't be taken seriously by her audience.
This is the sort of book that I suspect an RH designer would have laid out entirely by hand for the first set of pages (probably eliminating all short lines etc. so that the bound galleys would look especially nice) and then perhaps invited a compositor to do whatever refinement was called for for subsequent passes.
But “it’s all done by machine” is indeed a big nope.
And I think that readers certainly do notice badly laid out pages.
As a former phototypesetter, I certainly noticed the layout. I also get annoyed at bad layouts in general.
Yes, we do! Many readers notice only subconsciously, as in "it looks weird." (This is a comment from my digitally native son peeking over my shoulder as I was reading some proofs for print.) I am an old person, and a literate fussbudget, so bad layouts have a fingernails-on-the-chalkboard effect for me. (Now there's an old person metaphor!)
Nathan’s THE ART OF THE NIGHT (1928) is one of the many books I have in my “to be read” pile. I think it may even be a first edition.
So now I'd love to read your take on Peg Bracken, who I go back to with some regularity.
I’m sure I’ll write at length about her one of these days. I have been known to note that she has one of the strongest narrative voices I’ve ever encountered.
One of the formative voices of my childhood
I can’t help thinking that the bit about Prince Alexis is a dig at Kitty Carlisle, although that’s not _exactly_ her name during her multiple stints, over the decades, in Fledermaus.
He does a very good job of avoiding specificity, though there’s a callout of British plays whose dialogue is something like:
Happy?
Yes.
Really?
Ever so.
Love you.
Madly.
that is certainly a shot at Noël C.
Absolutely is.
"So veddy medly..."
I hope you’re writing a book. That’s all I’ve got.
Absolutely excellent title, a whole vibe right there
Delightful as always! That book goes on my gift list for a very sharp-toothed critic in my extended family.
But do I dare to ask, at the beginning of the second paragraph of footnote 5, "On the other..." on the other what?
Perhaps a better question would be, have you ever called your darling doggie a "Sallywag"?
Ah yes, these little typos we leave behind to remind ourselves that we’re human. (I’ve fixed it. If you feel like popping back into the piece, you’ll also see a few other small repairs, as Shawn Colvin might say, and a couple of extra pictures, as a reward.)
We call Sallie any number of things (of course, like all good dog parents), but not that.
It is a tragedy that something billed as A Gay Musical Novelty was destined to fail. Twice.
I have come to realise that I am really anti any hint of indent at the start of a paragraph, and agree with you that starting flush left would, obviously, have been so much the better option. But then, the whole thing is so horrid to look at (as my grandmother would have said: ‘it gives me the sick’) not even that would have saved it.
I'm constantly berating my students about bad page breaks. As is so often the case when I am berating them about some pet peeve of mine, they are mostly baffled.
These snippets are fabulous, and they make want to read the whole book. Thanks for sharing them!
I find GJN endlessly fascinating, and when he wanders off into lists of the worst plays he’s ever seen, or the prettiest ingenues in the history of the musical theater, or the best actresses of the twentieth century (I’d have to find the essay, but I think he may well have selected Helen Hayes over Kit Cornell, Ethel Barrymore, Judith Anderson, and all the rest, which certainly makes one wish to have seen Helen Hayes onstage), I’m completely rapt. (He was not an admirer of Katharine Hepburn’s acting, though he conceded that she had an arresting personality and good legs, and he appreciated Lynn Fontanne and Alfred but thought they wasted their time performing garbage.)
I also wonder what kind of personal library/filing system he must have maintained, because his ability to reel off ancient data and statistics would be impressive even in the online era.
The sawed-off bit on p. 77 caused me to look back at the earlier pages to make sure the text design didn’t include catchwords, because that’s what I first thought it was. Catchwords always felt like hiccups to me whenever I encountered them, although I guess they were useful for people reading aloud (as one did in the 19th century), trying to turn the page without halting their delivery.
Oh gosh, that's seriously old-school stuff.
I think I might have a book somewhere around here with catchwords.
You're also reminding me of the a's, b'c, c's, etc., you'd occasionally see at the bottoms of every sixteenth page so that whoever was binding the books could confirm that the signatures were in order. (If I'm remembering that correctly.)
I didn't know the term, but I'm familiar with the use in old legal opinions.
Although I'm not the first to say this, I stepped in to say:
At last, I get to portray Heidi, my favorite Swiss rôle!
Now, Brian...
Thank you for introducing me to this... critic. I'm going to find more of his work -- he is very amusing!
I hope you have fun exploring!