The Grolier Club of New York has been mounting exhibitions of books and prints since 1884, and many of them are recognized as landmark treatments of their subjects. Most of them have also been accompanied by published catalogs or related books. A recent instance was the exhibition, in the early months of 2021, drawn from Steven Lomazow's vast collection of American magazines, consisting of over eighty-three thousand separate issues from 1731 to the present. The substantial and profusely illustrated book that (...) has resulted is a welcome new survey of the subject, for it contains not only a record of the comprehensive exhibition but also fifteen essays written by Lomazow and seven other contributors (five chronological chapters, ten topical ones).The appearance of this book is an occasion for thinking about the status of magazines as research material. Although there is a considerable literature devoted to the history of magazines, they still do not always receive the attention they deserve. For example, author bibliographies generally give detailed physical descriptions of an author's books but simply list the magazine contributions. The illogic of this approach should be obvious, for magazines are printed matter, just as books are, and are thus subject to all the same complications. Two examples will illustrate how copies of supposedly identical issues can vary. In the nineteenth century, individual issues were often reprinted when the supply ran low, so that the publisher would be able to make up complete volumes for sale in a publisher's binding at the end of the year; these second printings were not labeled as such, but they could of course contain textual differences, both intentional and accidental. In the twentieth century, some American magazines had regional “editions” in which the text was shifted around in order to accommodate different advertising, keyed to local markets (the New Yorker is an example); as a result, page citations for a given contribution might not be the same in different copies (and cutting of text could also occur).The illogic of neglecting magazines has implications for biographical, as well as bibliographical and textual, study. There are many instances in which periodical publication was crucial for an author's career. It often provided an author's first public exposure and at any point in a career might have reached a larger audience than the books. Collectors, on whom preservation of the evidence initially depends, have been as guilty as bibliographers of slighting magazines. For instance, they have traditionally paid attention to anthologies that contain first book appearances of particular works (because they are “books”), without recognizing that issues of magazines are also anthologies (and frequently of more significance for promoting an author's reputation). Preservation relies also on institutional libraries to do their part; but (although “little magazines” now seem to be safe from further destruction) mainstream and mass-circulation magazines (both present and past) are continually being discarded by libraries in favor of digital reproductions. And reproductions are no more adequate as substitutes for the originals of magazines than they are for books, since they do not provide a basis for studying the unreproducible physical details that affect the reading experience and are essential for bibliographical research. Furthermore, since copies of a magazine issue can vary (just as copies of a book can), the number of copies that are preserved is a serious concern.These are among the considerations that make one glad to see Lomazow's book, for here is a collector who has focused on magazines for their own sake. Even though his book does not go into the matters I have raised, it can still serve to publicize the cause. One hopes that it, along with the wide attention his exhibition received, will stimulate appreciation of the importance of magazines in cultural history and the consequent need to collect and preserve them. (shrink)

It may seem odd to review a New York social club's yearbook, with its list of members’ addresses and series of committee reports. But such books sometimes contain material of more general interest. The latest one from the Century Association, for example, devotes 250 of its 685 pages to “Century Memorials”—that is, biographical sketches of recently deceased members, written by other members. Among the well-known figures taken up in these eighty-three sketches are the artists Richard Anuszkiewicz and Robert Motherwell; the (...) architects Henry N. Cobb and Charles A. Platt; the newspaper editors Harold Evans and Whitelaw Reid; the historians Henry F. Graff and William McFeely; the translator and literary scholar Donald Keene; the collector of literary and musical manuscripts Frederick Koch; the popular writer on Russian history Robert K. Massie; the clergyman James Parks Morton; the financier Felix G. Rohatyn; the lawyers Whitney North Seymour Jr. and Isaac N. Phelps Stokes; the literary editor Elisabeth Sifton; the university president Michael Sovern; the museum director Evan H. Turner; and the broadcast journalist Sander Vanocur. The sketches are generally well written and often richly evocative: the writers include Louis Begley, Kenneth T. Jackson, D. T. Max, and Honor Moore.The long shelf of Century volumes like this one clearly constitutes a valuable contribution to prosopographical literature. And the Century is not the only institution with such a tradition (other examples are the British Academy and the American Philosophical Society); but their publications are a frequently overlooked source, one not always available in research libraries. Unfortunately, it is also a source that seems to be diminishing: the American Antiquarian Society and the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation are examples of organizations, each with a history of providing biographical information, that are no longer doing so. Of course, the great previous runs of the former's Proceedings and the latter's Reports remain (one hopes) on the shelves for those who know to look for them. A step in the opposite direction has recently been taken by the Grolier Club, which has not had such a tradition (except for two biographical volumes in 1959 and 2000): its Gazette now includes a section of memorials in each issue. This is a welcome move, but one has to regret that so little scholarly use is made of this whole body of biographical detail and reminiscence. (shrink)

Current technological opportunities for preserving the texts of books, above all the microfilming process, have the unfortunate side effect, Tanselle argues, of destroying the books themselves. This modern form of book-burning is all the more unfortunate insofar as it is being pursued by many who would otherwise consider themselves advocates for books and reading. The principal mistake, which has guided public policy decisions in this process, is to elevate the “text” above the “book” and moreover above the experience of reading, (...) which entails an encounter with a physical object. Such objects, furthermore, carry within them vast fields of historical information that are lost when we concern ourselves solely with the text and, indeed, can even lead to the loss of texts themselves. Despite the mass destruction that has already been carried out, it is not too late for librarians and large professional organizations to voice their concerns and shift attitudes away from the promise of future bookless libraries and a public no longer sensitized to the pleasures and importance of the physical aspects of reading. (shrink)