Explore a New Digital Edition of Printing Types, the Authoritative History of Printing & Typography from 1922

Times New Roman has been around since 1931, longer than most of us have been alive — and for longer than many of us have been alive, word-pro­cess­ing appli­ca­tions have come with it as the default font. We tend, there­fore, to regard it less as some­thing cre­at­ed than as some­thing for all intents and pur­pos­es eter­nal, but there was a time when pub­lish­ers had to active­ly adopt it. The first Amer­i­can firm to start using Times New Roman was the Mer­ry­mount Press, which had already made a high­ly pres­ti­gious name for itself with pub­li­ca­tions like the ele­gant Book of Com­mon Prayer financed by no less a cap­tain of indus­try than J. Pier­pont Mor­gan. But oth­er print­ers knew Mer­ry­mount for a book that would have inspired in them an equal­ly wor­ship­ful impulse.

“Released in 1922 with a lat­er revi­sion in 1937,” Print­ing Types: Their His­to­ry, Forms and Use “became known as the stan­dard work on the his­to­ry of [print­ing and typog­ra­phy] and a basic book for all inter­est­ed in the graph­ic arts. This two-vol­ume work spans near­ly 450 years and includes detailed analy­ses of the print­ers and type design­ers and their work.”

So writes the design­er Nicholas Rougeux, pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture for his dig­i­tal edi­tions of vin­tage books like Illus­tra­tions of the Nat­ur­al Orders of Plants; British & Exot­ic Min­er­al­o­gy; A Mono­graph of the Trochilidæ, or Fam­i­ly of Hum­ming-Birds; Werner’s Nomen­cla­ture of Colours; Euclid’s Ele­ments, and Pierre-Joseph Red­outé’s col­lec­tions of rose and lily illus­tra­tions. His lat­est project to go live is a painstak­ing­ly assem­bled dig­i­tal edi­tion of Print­ing Types, which you can explore here.

That book was also orig­i­nal­ly the work of one man, Mer­ry­mount Press founder Daniel Berke­ley Updike. “Dur­ing his tenure at Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty, he taught a course on Tech­nique of Print­ing in the Grad­u­ate School of Busi­ness Admin­is­tra­tion for five years,” Rougeux writes, “the lec­tures of which served as the basis for Print­ing Types.” In the book, Updike offers a his­to­ry of “the art of typog­ra­phy from the dawn of West­ern print­ing in the fif­teenth cen­tu­ry to the begin­ning of the twen­ti­eth — focus­ing pri­mar­i­ly on Euro­pean print­ing in Ger­many, France, Italy, the Nether­lands, Spain, and Eng­land as well as the Unit­ed States.” In trac­ing “the devel­op­ment of type design,” he also dis­cuss­es “the impor­tance of each his­toric peri­od and the lessons they con­tain for con­tem­po­rary design­ers.”

Orig­i­nal­ly pub­lished in 1922 and exten­sive­ly revised in 1937, Print­ing Types long stood as the author­i­ta­tive his­to­ry of typog­ra­phy in the Latin alpha­bet, with its “more than 360 fac­sim­i­le illus­tra­tions show­cas­ing exam­ples of typog­ra­phy, bor­ders, flow­ers, and pages pulled from the books cov­ered.” Track­ing down the sources of those illus­tra­tions con­sti­tut­ed no small part of the painstak­ing pro­duc­tion of Rougeux’s dig­i­tal edi­tion, and the 100 of them most high­ly praised by Updike have also been made avail­able for pur­chase in poster form. For those who do a lot of work with text, in print or dig­i­tal forms, it could pro­vide just as much moti­va­tion as an actu­al copy of Print­ing Types on the shelf to find our way beyond the defaults.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of Typog­ra­phy Told in Five Ani­mat­ed Min­utes

See How The Guten­berg Press Worked: Demon­stra­tion Shows the Old­est Func­tion­ing Guten­berg Press in Action

Dis­cov­er the First Illus­trat­ed Book Print­ed in Eng­lish, William Caxton’s Mir­ror of the World (1481)

The Art of Col­lo­type: See a Near Extinct Print­ing Tech­nique, as Lov­ing­ly Prac­ticed by a Japan­ese Mas­ter Crafts­man

Behold a Dig­i­ti­za­tion of “The Most Beau­ti­ful of All Print­ed Books,” The Kelm­scott Chaucer

Fonts in Use: Enter a Giant Archive of Typog­ra­phy, Fea­tur­ing 12,618 Type­faces

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Seven Philosophy Books for Beginners: Where to Start

One espe­cial­ly appeal­ing aspect of phi­los­o­phy, as a field of study, is that you don’t have to go any­where to learn it but the library. And these days, you don’t nec­es­sar­i­ly have to go there, now that so many philo­soph­i­cal texts have become freely avail­able on the inter­net. In the video above, phi­los­o­phy YouTu­ber Jared Hen­der­son rec­om­mends sev­en books through which any­one can get a sol­id intro­duc­tion to the sub­ject. They are as fol­lows: Bertrand Rus­sell’s The Prob­lems of Phi­los­o­phy, Simon Black­burn’s Think, the com­plete works of Pla­to, Mar­cus Aure­lius Med­i­ta­tions, St. Augustine’s Con­fes­sions, René DescartesMed­i­ta­tions on First Phi­los­o­phy, and John Stu­art Mill’s On Lib­er­ty.

Why these books? Though writ­ten for the gen­er­al pub­lic, The Prob­lems of Phi­los­o­phy has also proven use­ful to Hen­der­son in teach­ing intro­duc­to­ry cours­es, not least thanks to Rus­sel­l’s elo­quent defense of philo­soph­i­cal study itself. Think, a more recent­ly writ­ten broad sur­vey, “intro­duces you to some top­ics that almost every­one is inter­est­ed in: free will, the prob­lems of knowl­edge and ratio­nal­i­ty, the exis­tence of God, the exis­tence of the self, the prob­lems of ethics.” And giv­en the scope of Pla­to’s writ­ings, if you care­ful­ly read through them all, you’ll be “a remark­ably dif­fer­ent per­son at the end of that process.”

The name of Mar­cus Aure­lius, who ruled the Roman Empire in the mid­dle of the sec­ond cen­tu­ry, has late­ly become an even bet­ter-known than it already was thanks to a resur­gence of pub­lic inter­est in Sto­icism. Hen­der­son rec­om­mends his Med­i­ta­tions as an exam­ple of “phi­los­o­phy as a way of life.” In the Con­fes­sions, Augus­tine blends “poet­ry, the­ol­o­gy, and phi­los­o­phy in a real­ly com­pelling way,” deal­ing with such mat­ters as “the nature of time,” “moti­va­tion and the will” and “the meta­physics of evil.” Descartes’ Med­i­ta­tions offers not just a primer on skep­ti­cism, but also the con­test for the famous line “I think, there­fore I am.” Mil­l’s On Lib­er­ty opens the path to trace mod­ern, much-thrown-around polit­i­cal notions (includ­ing the tit­u­lar one) back to their sources.

These books, as Hen­der­son stress­es, con­sti­tute a start­ing point, not a goal in them­selves. Read them, and you’ll get a much clear­er sense of what phi­los­o­phy deals with, but also where your own philo­soph­i­cal inter­ests lie. The field has a long his­to­ry, after all, and in that time it has grown so vast that no one, no mat­ter how seri­ous­ly ded­i­cat­ed, can walk all of its intel­lec­tu­al paths. What­ev­er the par­tic­u­lar realm of phi­los­o­phy to which your incli­na­tions take you, don’t be sur­prised if you find your­self revis­it­ing these very same books time and again. Nobody ever tru­ly mas­ters Pla­to, Mar­cus Aure­lius, Descartes, or Mill, and on some lev­el, phi­los­o­phy itself keeps its prac­ti­tion­ers eter­nal novices. The impor­tant thing is to cul­ti­vate and main­tain what the Zen Bud­dhists call “begin­ner’s mind” — but then, that’s a whole oth­er branch of phi­los­o­phy.

Relat­ed con­tent:

135 Free Phi­los­o­phy eBooks

Intro­duc­tion to Phi­los­o­phy: A Free Course

Philoso­phers Name the Best Phi­los­o­phy Books: From Sto­icism and Exis­ten­tial­ism, to Meta­physics & Ethics for Arti­fi­cial Intel­li­gence

Intro­duc­tion to Phi­los­o­phy: A Free Online Course from the Uni­ver­si­ty of Edin­burgh

Emi­nent Philoso­phers Name the 43 Most Impor­tant Phi­los­o­phy Books Writ­ten Between 1950–2000: Wittgen­stein, Fou­cault, Rawls & More

A Flow­chart of Philo­soph­i­cal Nov­els: Read­ing Rec­om­men­da­tions from Haru­ki Muraka­mi to Don DeLil­lo

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Why Knights Fought Snails in Medieval Illuminated Manuscripts

The snail may leave a trail of slime behind him, but a lit­tle slime will do a man no harm… whilst if you dance with drag­ons, you must expect to burn.

- George R. R. Mar­tin, The Mys­tery Knight

As any Game of Thrones fan knows, being a knight has its down­sides. It isn’t all pow­er, glo­ry, advan­ta­geous mar­riages and gifts rang­ing from cas­tles to bags of gold.

Some­times you have to fight a tru­ly for­mi­da­ble oppo­nent.

We’re not talk­ing about bun­nies here, though there’s plen­ty of doc­u­men­ta­tion to sug­gest medieval rab­bits were tough cus­tomers.

As Vox Almanac’s Phil Edwards explains, above, the many snails lit­ter­ing the mar­gins of 13th-cen­tu­ry man­u­scripts were also fear­some foes.

Boars, lions, and bears we can under­stand, but … snails? Why?

The­o­ries abound.

Detail from Brunet­to Latini’s Li Livres dou Tre­sor

Edwards favors the one in medieval­ist Lil­ian M. C. Randall’s 1962 essay “The Snail in Goth­ic Mar­gin­al War­fare.”

Ran­dall, who found some 70 instances of man-on-snail com­bat in 29 man­u­scripts dat­ing from the late 1200s to ear­ly 1300s, believed that the tiny mol­lusks were stand ins for the Ger­man­ic Lom­bards who invad­ed Italy in the 8th cen­tu­ry.

After Charle­magne trounced the Lom­bards in 772, declar­ing him­self King of Lom­bardy, the van­quished turned to usury and pawn­broking, earn­ing the enmi­ty of the rest of the pop­u­lace, even those who required their ser­vices.

Their pro­fes­sion con­ferred pow­er of a sort, the kind that tends to get one labelled cow­ard­ly, greedy, mali­cious … and easy to put down.

Which rather begs the ques­tion why the knights going toe-to- …uh, fac­ing off against them in the mar­gins of these illu­mi­nat­ed man­u­scripts look so damn intim­i­dat­ed.

(Con­verse­ly why was Rex Harrison’s Dr. Dolit­tle so unafraid of the Giant Pink Sea Snail?)

Detail from from MS. Roy­al 10 IV E (aka the Smith­field Dec­re­tals)

Let us remem­ber that the doo­dles in medieval mar­gin­a­lia are edi­to­r­i­al car­toons wrapped in enig­mas, much as today’s memes would seem, 800 years from now. What­ev­er point—or joke—the scribe was mak­ing, it’s been obscured by the mists of time.

And these things have a way of evolv­ing. The snail vs. knight motif dis­ap­peared in the 14th-cen­tu­ry, only to resur­face toward the end of the 15th, when any exist­ing sig­nif­i­cance would very like­ly have been tai­lored to fit the times.

Detail from The Mac­cles­field Psalter

Oth­er the­o­ries that schol­ars, art his­to­ri­ans, blog­gers, and arm­chair medieval­ists have float­ed with regard to the sym­bol­ism of these rough and ready snails haunt­ing the mar­gins:

The Res­ur­rec­tion

The high cler­gy, shrink­ing from prob­lems of the church

The slow­ness of time

The insu­la­tion of the rul­ing class

The aristocracy’s oppres­sion of the poor

A cri­tique of social climbers

Female sex­u­al­i­ty (isn’t every­thing?)

Vir­tu­ous humil­i­ty, as opposed to knight­ly pride

The snail’s reign of ter­ror in the gar­den (not so sym­bol­ic, per­haps…)

A prac­ti­cal-mind­ed Red­dit com­menter offers the fol­low­ing com­men­tary:

I like to imag­ine a monk draw­ing out his fan­tas­ti­cal day­dreams, the snail being his neme­sis, leav­ing unsight­ly trails across the page and him build­ing up in his head this great vic­to­ry where­in he van­quish­es them for­ev­er, nev­er again to be plagued by the beast­ly bug­gers while cre­at­ing his mas­ter­pieces.

Read­ers, any oth­er ideas?

Detail from The Gor­leston Psalter

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2019.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Killer Rab­bits in Medieval Man­u­scripts: Why So Many Draw­ings in the Mar­gins Depict Bun­nies Going Bad

Medieval Cats Behav­ing Bad­ly: Kit­ties That Left Paw Prints … and Peed … on 15th Cen­tu­ry Man­u­scripts

The Aberdeen Bes­tiary, One of the Great Medieval Illu­mi­nat­ed Man­u­scripts, Now Dig­i­tized in High Res­o­lu­tion & Made Avail­able Online

A Rab­bit Rides a Char­i­ot Pulled by Geese in an Ancient Roman Mosa­ic (2nd cen­tu­ry AD)

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er in New York City.

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2,178 Occult Books Now Digitized & Put Online, Thanks to the Ritman Library and Da Vinci Code Author Dan Brown

In 2018 we brought you some excit­ing news. Thanks to a gen­er­ous dona­tion from Da Vin­ci Code author Dan Brown, Amsterdam’s Rit­man Library—a siz­able col­lec­tion of pre-1900 books on alche­my, astrol­o­gy, mag­ic, and oth­er occult subjects—has been dig­i­tiz­ing thou­sands of its rare texts under a dig­i­tal edu­ca­tion project cheek­i­ly called “Her­met­i­cal­ly Open.” We are now pleased to report that the first 2,178 books from the Rit­man project have come avail­able in their online read­ing room.

Vis­i­tors should be aware that these books are writ­ten in sev­er­al dif­fer­ent Euro­pean lan­guages. Latin, the schol­ar­ly lan­guage of Europe through­out the Medieval and Ear­ly Mod­ern peri­ods, pre­dom­i­nates, and it’s a pecu­liar Latin at that, laden with jar­gon and alchem­i­cal ter­mi­nol­o­gy. Oth­er books appear in Ger­man, Dutch, and French. Read­ers of some or all of these lan­guages will of course have an eas­i­er time than mono­lin­gual Eng­lish speak­ers, but there is still much to offer those vis­i­tors as well.

In addi­tion to the plea­sure of pag­ing through an old rare book, even vir­tu­al­ly, Eng­lish speak­ers can quick­ly find a col­lec­tion of read­able books by click­ing on the “Place of Pub­li­ca­tion” search fil­ter and select­ing Cam­bridge or Lon­don, from which come such notable works as The Man-Mouse Takin in a Trap, and tortur’d to death for gnaw­ing the Mar­gins of Euge­nius Phi­lalethes, by Thomas Vaugh­an, pub­lished in 1650.

The lan­guage is archaic—full of quirky spellings and uses of the “long s”—and the con­tent is bizarre. Those famil­iar with this type of writ­ing, whether through his­tor­i­cal study or the work of more recent inter­preters like Aleis­ter Crow­ley or Madame Blavatsky, will rec­og­nize the many for­mu­las: The trac­ing of mag­i­cal cor­re­spon­dences between flo­ra, fau­na, and astro­nom­i­cal phe­nom­e­na; the care­ful pars­ing of names; astrol­o­gy and lengthy lin­guis­tic ety­molo­gies; numero­log­i­cal dis­cours­es and philo­soph­i­cal poet­ry; ear­ly psy­chol­o­gy and per­son­al­i­ty typ­ing; cryp­tic, cod­ed mythol­o­gy and med­ical pro­ce­dures. Although we’ve grown accus­tomed through pop­u­lar media to think­ing of mag­i­cal books as cook­books, full of recipes and incan­ta­tions, the real­i­ty is far dif­fer­ent.

Encoun­ter­ing the vast and strange trea­sures in the online library, one thinks of the type of the magi­cian rep­re­sent­ed in Goethe’s Faust, holed up in his study,

Where even the wel­come day­light strains
But duski­ly through the paint­ed panes.
Hemmed in by many a top­pling heap
Of books worm-eat­en, gray with dust,
Which to the vault­ed ceil­ing creep

The library doesn’t only con­tain occult books. Like the weary schol­ar Faust, alchemists of old “stud­ied now Phi­los­o­phy / And Jurispru­dence, Med­i­cine,— / And even, alas! The­ol­o­gy.” Click on Cam­bridge as the place of pub­li­ca­tion and you’ll find the work above by Hen­ry More, “one of the cel­e­brat­ed ‘Cam­bridge Pla­ton­ists,’” the Lin­da Hall Library notes, “who flour­ished in mid-17th-cen­tu­ry and did their best to rec­on­cile Pla­to with Chris­tian­i­ty and the mechan­i­cal phi­los­o­phy that was begin­ning to make inroads into British nat­ur­al phi­los­o­phy.” Those who study Euro­pean intel­lec­tu­al his­to­ry know well that More’s pres­ence in this col­lec­tion is no anom­aly. For a few hun­dred years, it was dif­fi­cult, if not impos­si­ble, to sep­a­rate the pur­suits of the­ol­o­gy, phi­los­o­phy, med­i­cine, and sci­ence (or “nat­ur­al phi­los­o­phy”) from those of alche­my and astrol­o­gy. (Isaac New­ton is a famous exam­ple of a mathematician/scientist/alchemist/believer in strange apoc­a­lyp­tic pre­dic­tions.) Enter the Rit­man’s new dig­i­tal col­lec­tion of occult texts here.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2018.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Big Archive of Occult Record­ings: His­toric Audio Lets You Hear Trances, Para­nor­mal Music, Glos­so­lalia & Oth­er Strange Sounds (1905–2007)

Dis­cov­er The Key of Hell, an Illus­trat­ed 18th-Cen­tu­ry Guide to Black Mag­ic (1775)

Isaac Newton’s Recipe for the Myth­i­cal ‘Philosopher’s Stone’ Is Being Dig­i­tized & Put Online (Along with His Oth­er Alche­my Man­u­scripts)

Aleis­ter Crow­ley Reads Occult Poet­ry in the Only Known Record­ings of His Voice (1920)

The Sur­re­al Paint­ings of the Occult Magi­cian, Writer & Moun­taineer, Aleis­ter Crow­ley

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. 

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A Man Read 3,599 Books Over 60 Years, and Now His Family Has Shared the Entire List Online

Dan Pelz­er died ear­li­er this year at the age of 92, leav­ing behind a hand­writ­ten list of all the books he’d read since 1962. His fam­i­ly had it dig­i­tized, put it online, and now it’s gone viral, some­what to the sur­prise of those of us who’d nev­er heard of him before. But that, it seems, is how the unpre­pos­sess­ing Pelz­er him­self would have want­ed it, accord­ing to the impres­sion giv­en by his grown chil­dren when inter­viewed about the pop­u­lar­i­ty of their father’s more than 100-page-long read­ing list. He began keep­ing it when he was sta­tioned in Nepal as a Peace Corps vol­un­teer, and kept it up until the end of his read­ing days in 2023, long after he retired from his job as a social work­er at an Ohio juve­nile cor­rec­tion­al facil­i­ty.

Exam­ined togeth­er, whether in the form of a com­plete scan or a search­able PDF, the 3,599 books, most of them checked out from the library, that Pelz­er record­ed hav­ing read con­sti­tute a per­son­al cul­tur­al his­to­ry of the past six decades. Described as a devout Catholic, he cer­tain­ly seems to have been con­sis­tent in his pur­suit of an inter­est in not just the his­to­ry of Chris­tian­i­ty in par­tic­u­lar, but the his­to­ry of west­ern civ­i­liza­tion in gen­er­al.

It comes as no sur­prise to see him dig into Will and Ariel Duran­t’s The Sto­ry of Civ­i­liza­tion series in the ear­ly nine­teen-eight­ies, slight­ly star­tling though it is that he read its eleven vol­umes in an appar­ent­ly ran­dom order. This habit turns out to be char­ac­ter­is­tic: though reput­ed to fin­ish every book he start­ed, he only got around to six vol­umes of Antho­ny Pow­ell’s A Dance to the Music of Time, start­ing with the eleventh and end­ing with the tenth.

Inter­spersed with the books of The Sto­ry of Civ­i­liza­tion are the likes of Philip Caputo’s A Rumor of War, John Irv­ing’s The World Accord­ing to Garp, and three nov­els by Ken Fol­lett. Though abid­ing­ly con­cerned with the sto­ry of mankind, Pelz­er appears also to have had a weak­ness for genre thrillers (he’s remem­bered as a big John Grisham fan) and top­i­cal books-of-the-moment. But whether read­ing at high‑, low‑, or mid­dle­brow lev­el, he seems to have been will­ing to give all major reli­gions and polit­i­cal philoso­phies, as well as some minor ones, a fair hear­ing — or rather, a fair read­ing. This makes for strik­ing jux­ta­po­si­tions in his list: Ayn Rand fol­lowed by L. Ron Hub­bard, Ta-Nehisi Coates by Jonathan Haidt. In that respect, he was, per­haps, the ide­al of the engaged, “demo­c­ra­t­ic” com­mon read­er one imag­ines pop­u­lat­ing Amer­i­ca while some­how nev­er encoun­ter­ing. If his list rais­es the ques­tion of why he did­n’t go into a more intel­lec­tu­al­ly ambi­tious line of work, it also, in a way, answers it: what time would that have left him to read?

Relat­ed con­tent:

Joseph Brodsky’s List of 83 Books You Should Read to Have an Intel­li­gent Con­ver­sa­tion

29 Lists of Rec­om­mend­ed Books Cre­at­ed by Well-Known Authors, Artists & Thinkers: Jorge Luis Borges, Pat­ti Smith, Neil DeGrasse Tyson, David Bowie & More

Oliv­er Sacks’ Rec­om­mend­ed Read­ing List of 46 Books: From Plants and Neu­ro­science, to Poet­ry and the Prose of Nabokov

Carl Sagan’s Ambi­tious Col­lege Read­ing List: Pla­to, Shake­speare, Gide, and Plen­ty of Phi­los­o­phy, Math & Physics (1954)

David Fos­ter Wallace’s Sur­pris­ing List of His 10 Favorite Books, from C. S. Lewis to Tom Clan­cy

100 Books to Read in a Life­time

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Stephen King’s Top 10 All-Time Favorite Books

Image by The USO, via Flickr Com­mons

So you might think that if Stephen King – the guy who wrote such hor­ror clas­sics like Car­rie and The Stand – were to rat­tle off his top ten favorite books, it would fea­ture works by the likes of Edgar Allan Poe, H. P. Love­craft or maybe J. R. R. Tolkien — authors who have, like King, cre­at­ed endur­ing dark, Goth­ic worlds filled with super­nat­ur­al events and malev­o­lent forces. But you’d be wrong. Author J. Ped­er Zane asked scores of writ­ers about their favorite nov­els for his 2007 book The Top Ten: Writ­ers Pick Their Favorite Books. The list King sub­mit­ted in reply appears below. When pos­si­ble, we’ve added links to the texts that you can read for free online.

1. The Gold­en Argosy, The Most Cel­e­brat­ed Short Sto­ries in the Eng­lish Lan­guage – edit­ed by Van Cart­mell and Charles Grayson

2. The Adven­tures of Huck­le­ber­ry Finn – Mark Twain

3. The Satan­ic Vers­es – Salman Rushdie

4. McTeague – Frank Nor­ris

5. Lord of the Flies – William Gold­ing

6. Bleak House – Charles Dick­ens

7. 1984 – George Orwell

8. The Raj Quar­tet – Paul Scott

9. Light in August – William Faulkn­er

10. Blood Merid­i­an – Cor­mac McCarthy

King, it seems, prefers books that explore basic defects in the human char­ac­ter to spooky tales of fan­ta­sy. In oth­er words, he’s inter­est­ed in sto­ries that are actu­al­ly ter­ri­fy­ing. Orwell’s por­trait of a man break­ing under the pres­sure of total­i­tar­i­an­ism or William Golding’s para­ble about a group of boys devolv­ing into beasts are down­right trou­bling. Frank Norris’s saga about the men­da­cious McTeague isn’t exact­ly com­fort­ing either. And McCarthy’s grim and spec­tac­u­lar­ly vio­lent mas­ter­piece Blood Merid­i­an might make you crawl into a fetal posi­tion and weep for human­i­ty. (That was my reac­tion, any­way.)

The most strik­ing thing about the list, how­ev­er, is how uni­form­ly high­brow it is. All books would fit right in on the syl­labus of an upper lev­el Eng­lish col­lege course. On the oth­er hand, David Fos­ter Wal­lace, when asked for his top ten, filled his list with such mass mar­ket crowd pleasers as The Silence of the Lambs by Thomas Har­ris, The Sum of All Fears by Tom Clan­cy and, at num­ber two, King’s The Stand.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2014.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stephen King Rec­om­mends 96 Books for Aspir­ing Writ­ers to Read

How Stephen King Pre­dict­ed the Rise of Trump in a 1979 Nov­el

Stephen King’s 20 Rules for Writ­ers

Stephen King Explains the Key to His Cre­ativ­i­ty: Not Los­ing the Dream-State Think­ing All Chil­dren Are Born With

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing lots of pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

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Neil deGrasse Tyson Lists 8 (Free) Books Every Intelligent Person Should Read

Image via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

A num­ber of years ago, a Red­dit user posed the ques­tion to Neil deGrasse Tyson: “Which books should be read by every sin­gle intel­li­gent per­son on the plan­et?”

Below, you will find the book list offered up by the astro­physi­cist, direc­tor of the Hay­den Plan­e­tar­i­um, and pop­u­lar­iz­er of sci­ence. Where pos­si­ble, we have includ­ed links to free ver­sions of the books.

1.) The Bible (eBook) — “to learn that it’s eas­i­er to be told by oth­ers what to think and believe than it is to think for your­self.”

2.) The Sys­tem of the World by Isaac New­ton (eBook) — “to learn that the uni­verse is a know­able place.”

3.) On the Ori­gin of Species by Charles Dar­win (eBookAudio Book) — “to learn of our kin­ship with all oth­er life on Earth.”

4.) Gul­liv­er’s Trav­els by Jonathan Swift (eBookAudio Book) — “to learn, among oth­er satir­i­cal lessons, that most of the time humans are Yahoos.”

5.) The Age of Rea­son by Thomas Paine (eBookAudio Book) — “to learn how the pow­er of ratio­nal thought is the pri­ma­ry source of free­dom in the world.”

6.) The Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith (eBookAudio Book) — “to learn that cap­i­tal­ism is an econ­o­my of greed, a force of nature unto itself.”

7.) The Art of War by Sun Tsu (eBookAudio Book) — “to learn that the act of killing fel­low humans can be raised to an art.”

8.) The Prince by Machi­avel­li (eBookAudio Book) — “to learn that peo­ple not in pow­er will do all they can to acquire it, and peo­ple in pow­er will do all they can to keep it.”

Tyson con­cludes by say­ing: “If you read all of the above works you will glean pro­found insight into most of what has dri­ven the his­to­ry of the west­ern world.”

He has also added some more thoughts in the com­ments sec­tion below, say­ing:

Thanks for this ongo­ing inter­est in my book sug­ges­tions. From some of your reflec­tions, it looks like the intent of the list was not as clear as I thought. The one-line com­ment after each book is not a review but a state­ment about how the book’s con­tent influ­enced the behav­ior of peo­ple who shaped the west­ern world. So, for exam­ple, it does no good to say what the Bible “real­ly” meant, if its actu­al influ­ence on human behav­ior is some­thing else. Again, thanks for your col­lec­tive inter­est. ‑NDTyson

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2011.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1,000 Free Audio Books: Down­load Great Books for Free

The Har­vard Clas­sics: Down­load All 51 Vol­umes as Free eBooks

Neil deGrasse Tyson Offers Advice on How to Be Your­self and Achieve Your Own Great­ness

1,700 Free Online Cours­es from Top Uni­ver­si­ties

Neil deGrasse Tyson Presents a Brief His­to­ry of Every­thing in an 8.5 Minute Ani­ma­tion

 

 

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Enter an Archive of 10,000+ Historical Children’s Books, All Digitized & Free to Read Online

5 Little PIgs

We can learn much about how a his­tor­i­cal peri­od viewed the abil­i­ties of its chil­dren by study­ing its chil­dren’s lit­er­a­ture. Occu­py­ing a space some­where between the pure­ly didac­tic and the non­sen­si­cal, most children’s books pub­lished in the past few hun­dred years have attempt­ed to find a line between the two poles, seek­ing a bal­ance between enter­tain­ment and instruc­tion. How­ev­er, that line seems to move clos­er to one pole or anoth­er depend­ing on the pre­vail­ing cul­tur­al sen­ti­ments of the time. And the very fact that children’s books were hard­ly pub­lished at all before the ear­ly 18th cen­tu­ry tells us a lot about when and how mod­ern ideas of child­hood as a sep­a­rate cat­e­go­ry of exis­tence began.

ABCs

“By the end of the 18th cen­tu­ry,” writes New­cas­tle Uni­ver­si­ty pro­fes­sor M.O. Gren­by, “children’s lit­er­a­ture was a flour­ish­ing, sep­a­rate and secure part of the pub­lish­ing indus­try in Britain.” The trend accel­er­at­ed rapid­ly and has nev­er ceased—children’s and young adult books now dri­ve sales in pub­lish­ing (with 80% of YA books bought by grown-ups for them­selves).

Gren­by notes that “the rea­sons for this sud­den rise of children’s lit­er­a­ture” and its rapid expan­sion into a boom­ing mar­ket by the ear­ly 1800s “have nev­er been ful­ly explained.” We are free to spec­u­late about the social and ped­a­gog­i­cal winds that pushed this his­tor­i­cal change.

Afloat with Nelson

Or we might do so, at least, by exam­in­ing the children’s lit­er­a­ture of the Vic­to­ri­an era, per­haps the most inno­v­a­tive and diverse peri­od for children’s lit­er­a­ture thus far by the stan­dards of the time. And we can do so most thor­ough­ly by sur­vey­ing the thou­sands of mid- to late 19th cen­tu­ry titles at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Florida’s Bald­win Library of His­tor­i­cal Children’s Lit­er­a­ture. Their dig­i­tized col­lec­tion cur­rent­ly holds over 10,000 books free to read online from cov­er to cov­er, allow­ing you to get a sense of what adults in Britain and the U.S. want­ed chil­dren to know and believe.

Zig Zag

Sev­er­al gen­res flour­ished at the time: reli­gious instruc­tion, nat­u­ral­ly, but also lan­guage and spelling books, fairy tales, codes of con­duct, and, espe­cial­ly, adven­ture stories—pre-Hardy Boys and Nan­cy Drew exam­ples of what we would call young adult fic­tion, these pub­lished prin­ci­pal­ly for boys. Adven­ture sto­ries offered a (very colo­nial­ist) view of the wide world; in series like the Boston-pub­lished Zig Zag and Eng­lish books like Afloat with Nel­son, both from the 1890s, fact min­gled with fic­tion, nat­ur­al his­to­ry and sci­ence with bat­tle and trav­el accounts. But there is anoth­er dis­tinc­tive strain in the children’s lit­er­a­ture of the time, one which to us—but not nec­es­sar­i­ly to the Victorians—would seem con­trary to the impe­ri­al­ist young adult nov­el.

Bible Picture Book

For most Vic­to­ri­an stu­dents and read­ers, poet­ry was a dai­ly part of life, and it was a cen­tral instruc­tion­al and sto­ry­telling form in children’s lit. The A.L.O.E.’s Bible Pic­ture Book from 1871, above, presents “Sto­ries from the Life of Our Lord in Verse,” writ­ten “sim­ply for the Lord’s lambs, rhymes more read­i­ly than prose attract­ing the atten­tion of chil­dren, and fas­ten­ing them­selves on their mem­o­ries.” Chil­dren and adults reg­u­lar­ly mem­o­rized poet­ry, after all. Yet after the explo­sion in children’s pub­lish­ing the for­mer read­ers were often giv­en infe­ri­or exam­ples of it. The author of the Bible Pic­ture Book admits as much, beg­ging the indul­gence of old­er read­ers in the pref­ace for “defects in my work,” giv­en that “the vers­es were made for the pic­tures, not the pic­tures for the vers­es.”

Elfin Rhymes

This is not an author, or per­haps a type of lit­er­a­ture, one might sus­pect, that thinks high­ly of children’s aes­thet­ic sen­si­bil­i­ties.  We find pre­cise­ly the oppo­site to be the case in the won­der­ful Elfin Rhymes from 1900, writ­ten by the mys­te­ri­ous “Nor­man” with “40 draw­ings by Car­ton Moorepark.” Who­ev­er “Nor­man” may be (or why his one-word name appears in quo­ta­tion marks), he gives his read­ers poems that might be mis­tak­en at first glance for unpub­lished Christi­na Ros­set­ti vers­es; and Mr. Moorepark’s illus­tra­tions rival those of the finest book illus­tra­tors of the time, pre­sag­ing the high qual­i­ty of Calde­cott Medal-win­ning books of lat­er decades. Elfin Rhymes seems like a rare odd­i­ty, like­ly pub­lished in a small print run; the care and atten­tion of its lay­out and design shows a very high opin­ion of its read­ers’ imag­i­na­tive capa­bil­i­ties.

Elfin Rhymes 2

This title is rep­re­sen­ta­tive of an emerg­ing genre of late Vic­to­ri­an children’s lit­er­a­ture, which still tend­ed on the whole, as it does now, to fall into the trite and for­mu­la­ic. Elfin Rhymes sits astride the fan­ta­sy boom at the turn of the cen­tu­ry, her­ald­ed by huge­ly pop­u­lar books like Frank L. Baum’s Wiz­ard of Oz series and J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan. These, the Har­ry Pot­ters of their day, made mil­lions of young peo­ple pas­sion­ate read­ers of mod­ern fairy tales, rep­re­sent­ing a slide even fur­ther away from the once quite nar­row, “remorse­less­ly instruc­tion­al… or deeply pious” cat­e­gories avail­able in ear­ly writ­ing for chil­dren, as Gren­by points out.

All Around the Moon

Where the bound­aries for kids’ lit­er­a­ture had once been nar­row­ly fixed by Latin gram­mar books and Pilgrim’s Progress, by the end of the 19th cen­tu­ry, the influ­ence of sci­ence fic­tion like Jules Verne’s, and of pop­u­lar super­nat­ur­al tales and poems, pre­pared the ground for com­ic books, YA dystopias, magi­cian fic­tion, and dozens of oth­er children’s lit­er­a­ture gen­res we now take for grant­ed, or—in increas­ing­ly large numbers—we buy to read for our­selves. Enter the Bald­win Library of His­tor­i­cal Children’s Lit­er­a­ture here, where you can browse sev­er­al cat­e­gories, search for sub­jects, authors, titles, etc, see full-screen, zoomable images of book cov­ers, down­load XML ver­sions, and read all of the over 10,000+ books in the col­lec­tion with com­fort­able read­er views.

Note: This is an updat­ed ver­sion of a post that orig­i­nal­ly appeared on our site in 2016.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The First Children’s Pic­ture Book, 1658’s Orbis Sen­su­al­i­um Pic­tus

Hayao Miyaza­ki Selects His 50 Favorite Children’s Books

The 100 Great­est Children’s Books of All Time, Accord­ing to 177 Books Experts from 56 Coun­tries

A Dig­i­tal Archive of 1,800+ Children’s Books from UCLA

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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