As anyone who's ever ridden the Metro in Boston knows, there's a sign on the wall along the blue line route that reads, "Outbound to Wonderland." Must be one helluva train, I thought to myself when I saw it. In that spirit of exploration, this is a blog of short essays on art, literature, law, economics, music, history, international relations, science...and everything else, too.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Two Books
In 1452, a monk (or scribe) living in the city of Mainz, in the southwest of Germany, began work on a tremendous bible, a Biblia latina, which would take him 15 months to complete. That bible, seen in the top picture, above, is now known as the Giant Bible of Mainz, and sits encased in glass to the right of the entrance to the main reading room at the Library of Congress.
In that same city of Mainz, at the same time (roughly), Johannes Gutenberg was perfecting the process of printing with movable type. Among Gutenberg's innovations (many of which were also tinkered with by other printers, metal-smiths, etc. around Europe) were oil-based ink, and a hand mold for casting metal (rather than wood) type. In at least 1450 Gutenberg's press was operating, producing Latin grammars and, later, indulgences for the Church. In 1455, the press produced 180 copies of the "42-line" (so-called because each page comprised 42 lines) Gutenberg bible. Of those 180 copies, 30 were printed on vellum. Of those thirty, three remain: one in the Biblioteque Nationale in Paris, one in the British Library in London, and one which sits encased in glass to the left of the entrance to the main reading room at the Library of Congress.
Obviously volumes have been written on the impact of the Gutenberg revolution. Time magazine named Gutenberg its Man of the Millenium. The sudden diffusion of ideas occasioned by the availability of mass-produced printed materials made possible the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the Industrial Revolution. Before Gutenberg, no one read because there was nothing to read. And there was nothing to read because no one read.
I stood today between those two bibles at the Library of Congress. I stood thinking that I'm likely to spend a good chunk of my life having nothing to do, and knowing no one in whichever city Nina's diplomatic orders have landed us. Why? Because of books. Because I can read. Because through reading I can come to sense a world around me about which I might write books. Because the books I read and write will make the cities of my life holy and true.
I have staked my life on books.
And I stood there looking at the reason I'm able to do so, and I cried. I am who I am because of that bible. I cried. I'm crying now.
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