Film Review: Proceed and Be Bold!

Several weeks ago, I reviewed an excellent new documentary called Typeface. Over this past weekend, I had the chance to see another fantastic documentary about letterpress printing. Proceed and Be Bold follows Amos Paul Kennedy Jr., who, at the age of 40, gave up a rather comfortable life to follow his dream of becoming a master printer. The film was released in late 2008, but is still screening all over the country. By turns provocative and poignant, Kennedy's story is an inspiring one. Produced and directed by Laura Zinger of 20k Films, Proceed and Be Bold will be of interest to all you book- and print-loving readers out there (and your spouses too). At the center is this delightful character--in his overalls--who doesn't play by anyone's rules, but we also get a look at the world of art printing and how it is evolving.    

But don't just take my word for it, enjoy a short preview here.

And, one last thing: Kennedy's bold prints are available online. Browse his poster gallery. 

20k films, amos paul kennedy, art printing, film review, kennedy prints, laura zinger, letterpress, master printer, proceed and be bold, wood type
Thomas Jefferson's 'Bibliomany'

What better way for bibliophiles to observe the Fourth of July than to reflect a bit on the legendary passion the author of the Declaration of Independence had for his books, and for the care he took not only in selecting them, but in one amusing instance, expressing his regrets to a hopeful bookseller trying to make a sale.

Thomas Jefferson's best known comment on the subject--"I cannot live without books"--was confided in a letter to John Adams in 1815, and has been celebrated on everything from coffee mugs to T-shirts. (I used it myself fifteen years ago as one of four epigraphs for A Gentle Madness.) But in another letter written four years earlier Jefferson made clear that while books certainly were essential to his sanity and well-being, he was not about to read everything that might come his way.

Responding to a query submitted to him by his friend Thomas Law to subscribe his name for a translation of a French atlas of the world then in preparation, Jefferson wrote a lengthy letter of considerable wit that expressed why such a purchase made little sense for him. It begins thusly:

"I am now entered on my 69th year. The tables of mortality tell me I have 7 years to live. My bibliomany has possessed me of perhaps 20,000 volumes. Of these there are probably 1000 which I would read, of choice, before I should the historical, genealogical, chronological, & geographical Atlas of M. Le Sage. But it is also probable I shall decamp before I get through 50. of them,.Why then add an unit to the 19,950 which I shall never read? To encourage the work?"

The full text of Jefferson's wonderful response has been edited and published online by The Papers of Thomas Jefferson Retirement Series, based in Monticello, Virginia, and embarked on creating a definitive edition of Jefferson's  papers for the period from 1809 to 1826. 

Editor of the series is J. Jefferson Looney, who my wife and I had the good fortune to meet a few weeks ago at the Horatio Alger Society annual meeting. Jeff kindly sent this letter along, which I saved for use today. He advises me too that this letter is previously unpublished, so it should be of considerable interest to admirers of Jefferson, especially as it relates to his "bibliomany." Indeed, two-thirds of Jefferson's outgoing correspondence--and 80 percent of what he received--edited by the Retirement Series thus far has not been published before.

So check out the Retirement Series site, it's great fun.

Retirement Series, Thomas Jefferson, Monticello
Collecting Loyalist Literature
Folks sometimes forget that not everyone living in late 18th century America supported the cause of revolution.  In fact, historians estimate that some 20% of the population actually supported Great Britain.  For lots of reasons: family ties; financial ties; fear of mob rule; conscientious objection....

However, as patriots gained control of publishing centers in the 1770s, broadsides, pamphlets and books published in support of the loyalist cause naturally became increasingly scarce, and today such items often fetch very tidy sums.

0872206947.jpgJames Rivington, the pre-eminent loyalist publisher, saw not a few of his publications (e.g., Joseph Galloway's A Candid Examination of the Mutual Claims of Great-Britain and the Colonies, 1775) put to the torch in several colonies.  Other loyalist publications--those of the Rev. Samuel Seabury (America's 1st Episcopal bishop) and Daniel Leonard, for example--suffered similar indignities, anonymity being no shield against patriotic fervor.

Fortunately, surviving loyalist tracts often are available in modern reprints.  Thus, even book collectors who are disinclined to spend time and money seeking out original examples of the opposition press can still create reasonably balanced collections....
book collecting, book collector, book history, books, home library, private library
A Skipwith Book

When I was in Charlottesville, VA in June for Rare Book School, I came across a book with a very interesting provenance during one of the bookshop jaunts (in this case, to Franklin Gilliam Rare Books on South Street). Well, the book arrived in the mail this week, so I can finally write about it in more detail.

The book itself I can't say much about yet since I've not read it, but it is I Says, Says I; a novel, by Thinks-I-To-Myself (i.e. Edward Nares). This is the first American edition, published at Boston by Bradford & Read and Philadelphia by Anthony Finley [printed at Boston by Munroe & Francis], dated 17 October 1812 (the first edition was published at London, also in 1812). A light penciled note on the title page appears to read "Trash, Trash" (which may be an indication of the quality of the text - you can judge for yourself if you wish, since Google Books has scanned this edition).
 
No, the interesting thing about this book is the signature(s) on the title page (pictured at left, full-size version here). The upper signature reads "Jean Skipwith / Prestwould", and the other (in red ink faded to a very bright pink) "Lionel Skipwith - 1895."
 
I've written about Lady Jean Skipwith (1748-1826) before (here), after I finished adding her library to LibraryThing. She was the most voracious female book collector in early America; her library included a vast number of novels and other literary writings (I suspect she had a fair majority of all English novels written by women during her lifetime; check out her author cloud). In her will she left 200 volumes each to her daughter-in-law Sarah Nivison Skipwith (wife of her son Humberston) and her two daughters Helen and Selena.
 
Sarah Nivison Skipwith having died before her mother-in-law, the books meant for her were apparently given to her widower, Jean's son Humberston Skipwith (1791-1862). From there this novel likely passed to Humberston's son Grey (1840-1895), and from him to his son Lionel (1882-1918); the date of Lionel's signature coincides with the year of his father's death.
 
So this book has quite a story (to me, an irresistible one, in fact), and that's why it's now on my shelves.