Authors Are Not Made of Printed Paper
Today, texts are largely imagined as scenes of reading rather than scenes of writing [...] Perhaps we do not see a text as something we make, but we certainly see it as something an author does not make. Yet a manuscript is a witness to something that was made, and made by an author. When scholars hold an author's papers in their hands they must acknowledge that he or she exists, or at least existed, whether the manuscript records a composition of a new work or the transcription of an old one.
Grace Ioppolo, from the Introduction to Dramatists and their Manuscripts in the Age of Shakespeare, Jonson, Middleton and Heywood.
What do you think about this? For me, manuscripts are mysterious, those complex and beautiful patterns of Medieval manuscripts drive me crazy; however, browsing through Renaissance manuscripts (on the internet of course) is a compulsive habit of mine!! I can even imagine the smell of old paper. If I had the chance to have those papers in my hands, I would go completely mad with fascination...And I must say I'm definitely wishing to go mad because of that. Have you ever tried imagining great authors at work? I mean, we can have the thing-book in our hands, but that's not the real book, it is the result of a lot of work, of endless hours of effort, of passion, of imagination.
By the way, I wonder if people in general still enjoys handwriting as much as I do. You should see my college notebooks and my loved anthologies, there are notes in every possible little space plus stickers with more notes. I also have lots of notebooks where I've written quotations, ideas, nonsenses and even my own essays. Well, I have even drawn little horrible sketches, rabbitts, endless circular patterns, and labyrinths.
Some years ago I would even write hate letters for the boyfriend in turn. Let me make this clear, jajaja: these were not love letters but things I used to write in order to keep myself calm and let anger flow; then I would put them away in a drawer and forget about the boy. I also wrote a set of letters for a special man. These were apologetic and loving letters I didn't dare send (I still keep the posttage stamps). I waited for years until hi5 and fortune drove me towards him (good fortune? Bad fortune?). Ahhh, more recently I used to keep a sort of thesis journal where I wrote a daily entry on Shakespeare, but, before Shakespeare, I felt the urgency of writing something about my day in order to stop thinking of anything but the Bard. I know, it seems ridiculous, but it was really useful and now that I read those things, I can see myself reflected on the pages, I can see happiness and pain, a lot of pain... That's love.
*Yes, I'm aware of it. Nobody will remember me because of my manuscripts. The thing is that I like reading them after a long time (that means: every time I clean my bookcases or my treasures chest). It's funny when you see that you were dying because of nothing, when you realise how much your feelings and thoughts have changed, and when you think of your past form the perspective of the present. And, guess what??? Not even the shape of your handwriting is the same.
By the way, I wonder if people in general still enjoys handwriting as much as I do. You should see my college notebooks and my loved anthologies, there are notes in every possible little space plus stickers with more notes. I also have lots of notebooks where I've written quotations, ideas, nonsenses and even my own essays. Well, I have even drawn little horrible sketches, rabbitts, endless circular patterns, and labyrinths.
Some years ago I would even write hate letters for the boyfriend in turn. Let me make this clear, jajaja: these were not love letters but things I used to write in order to keep myself calm and let anger flow; then I would put them away in a drawer and forget about the boy. I also wrote a set of letters for a special man. These were apologetic and loving letters I didn't dare send (I still keep the posttage stamps). I waited for years until hi5 and fortune drove me towards him (good fortune? Bad fortune?). Ahhh, more recently I used to keep a sort of thesis journal where I wrote a daily entry on Shakespeare, but, before Shakespeare, I felt the urgency of writing something about my day in order to stop thinking of anything but the Bard. I know, it seems ridiculous, but it was really useful and now that I read those things, I can see myself reflected on the pages, I can see happiness and pain, a lot of pain... That's love.
*Yes, I'm aware of it. Nobody will remember me because of my manuscripts. The thing is that I like reading them after a long time (that means: every time I clean my bookcases or my treasures chest). It's funny when you see that you were dying because of nothing, when you realise how much your feelings and thoughts have changed, and when you think of your past form the perspective of the present. And, guess what??? Not even the shape of your handwriting is the same.
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