Friday, March 04, 2005
I love Dover!
Dover Publications, that is. Back in 1962, I first encountered a Dover book in the grocery store. (Odd things happened in college towns.) I started saving my allowance to buy more books on science and math. Most were way over my head, but I picked up the attitude and feel of science from them.
In 1970, shortly after getting out of jail, I took a sort of vacation to the East with family friends; when we touristed in New York, I insisted on visiting the Dover main salesroom. Felt like a shrine.
Much, much later, in 1997, I was hungry for some architectural books. The postman mistakenly delivered a Dover architecture catalog to my house, and I rediscovered that noble enterprise. Since my allowance is considerably larger now, I've been able to buy all Dover books on 1920's architecture. What makes Dover so special? First, it uses exactly one method of binding, always the same, not used by any other publisher. You can recognize a Dover book in the dark. Second, it follows its own compass, regardless of passing fads. The books I bought in 1962 are still in the catalog. Dover finally joined the Web only two years ago.
This little paean was inspired by receiving my latest order, a book of architectural drawings submitted to a competition in 1912. Back then, each draftsman had a unique style, a unique typography, a unique way of mixing sketch with plan, and a unique graphic signature. I guess you'd call it a colophon. One of the colophons is a devilish-looking baby; another is a star of David; another is a swastika. One of the drawings includes the architect himself holding the (mandatory) scale measurement, while a stylish lady with a paddle examines him balefully. Kids with whips chase dogs through the houses. Some include precursors of Disney-style cartoon characters. We look back on the Edwardian period as stiff and repressive, but in fact Americans were FAR less Sensitive, far more open to a wider range of wit and humor.
Still, some things change and some don't. The competition was sponsored by a brick-building trade association, to show that attractive and inexpensive bungalows could be built of brick. After all the drawings there's a strange little parable called 'Tales of an Unbeliever' in which a wise old professor tries to teach a young fellow about the advantages of brick, and the young fellow finally learns from hard experience. Here's a passage: "It amuses me now when I recall the lectures I used to take from Huntington in those days just before my marriage. He showed little interest in the preparations for the Great Event -- the ring I was to select, the gowns the bride and bridesmaids were to wear, and all that sort of thing -- and he refused to be excited over the question whether the word 'obey' should be included in the bride's oath."
Nothing new under the sun..... ¶ 8:00 PM
In 1970, shortly after getting out of jail, I took a sort of vacation to the East with family friends; when we touristed in New York, I insisted on visiting the Dover main salesroom. Felt like a shrine.
Much, much later, in 1997, I was hungry for some architectural books. The postman mistakenly delivered a Dover architecture catalog to my house, and I rediscovered that noble enterprise. Since my allowance is considerably larger now, I've been able to buy all Dover books on 1920's architecture. What makes Dover so special? First, it uses exactly one method of binding, always the same, not used by any other publisher. You can recognize a Dover book in the dark. Second, it follows its own compass, regardless of passing fads. The books I bought in 1962 are still in the catalog. Dover finally joined the Web only two years ago.
This little paean was inspired by receiving my latest order, a book of architectural drawings submitted to a competition in 1912. Back then, each draftsman had a unique style, a unique typography, a unique way of mixing sketch with plan, and a unique graphic signature. I guess you'd call it a colophon. One of the colophons is a devilish-looking baby; another is a star of David; another is a swastika. One of the drawings includes the architect himself holding the (mandatory) scale measurement, while a stylish lady with a paddle examines him balefully. Kids with whips chase dogs through the houses. Some include precursors of Disney-style cartoon characters. We look back on the Edwardian period as stiff and repressive, but in fact Americans were FAR less Sensitive, far more open to a wider range of wit and humor.
Still, some things change and some don't. The competition was sponsored by a brick-building trade association, to show that attractive and inexpensive bungalows could be built of brick. After all the drawings there's a strange little parable called 'Tales of an Unbeliever' in which a wise old professor tries to teach a young fellow about the advantages of brick, and the young fellow finally learns from hard experience. Here's a passage: "It amuses me now when I recall the lectures I used to take from Huntington in those days just before my marriage. He showed little interest in the preparations for the Great Event -- the ring I was to select, the gowns the bride and bridesmaids were to wear, and all that sort of thing -- and he refused to be excited over the question whether the word 'obey' should be included in the bride's oath."
Nothing new under the sun..... ¶ 8:00 PM
