A 16th Century “Database” of Every Book in the World Gets Unearthed: Discover the Libro de los Epítomes Assembled by Christopher Columbus’ Son

The 16th cen­tu­ry was a thrilling time for books, at least for those who could afford them: build­ing a respectable per­son­al library (even if it did­n’t include nov­el­ties like the books that open six dif­fer­ent ways and the wheels that made it pos­si­ble to rotate through many open books at once) took seri­ous resources. Her­nan­do Colón, the ille­git­i­mate son of Christo­pher Colum­bus, seems to have com­mand­ed such resources: as The Guardian’s Ali­son Flood writes, he “made it his life’s work to cre­ate the biggest library the world had ever known in the ear­ly part of the 16th cen­tu­ry. Run­ning to around 15,000 vol­umes, the library was put togeth­er dur­ing Colón’s exten­sive trav­els” and ulti­mate­ly con­tained every­thing from the works of Pla­to to posters pulled from tav­ern walls.

Alas, this ambi­tious library, meant to encom­pass all lan­guages, cul­tures, and forms of writ­ing, is now most­ly lost. “After Colón’s death in 1539, his mas­sive col­lec­tion ulti­mate­ly end­ed up in the Seville Cathe­dral, where neglect, sticky-fin­gered bib­lio­philes, and the occa­sion­al flood reduced the library to just 4,000 vol­umes over the cen­turies,” writes Smithsonian.com’s Jason Daley. But we now know what it con­tained, thanks to the dis­cov­ery just this year of the Libro de los Epí­tomes, or “Book of Epit­o­mes,” the library’s foot-thick cat­a­log that not only lists the vol­umes it con­tained but describes them as well. “Colón employed a team of writ­ers to read every book in the library and dis­till each into a lit­tle sum­ma­ry in Libro de los Epí­tomes,” Flood writes, “rang­ing from a cou­ple of lines long for very short texts to about 30 pages for the com­plete works of Pla­to.”

The Libro de los Epí­tomes turned up ear­li­er this year in anoth­er col­lec­tion, that of an Ice­landic schol­ar by the name of Árni Mag­nús­son who left his books to the Uni­ver­si­ty of Copen­hagen when he died in 1730. Few­er than 30 of the 3,000 texts in Mag­nús­son’s most­ly Ice­landic and oth­er Scan­di­na­vian-lan­guage col­lec­tion (detailed images of which you can see at Type­r­oom) are writ­ten in Span­ish, which per­haps explains why the Libro de los Epí­tomes went over­looked for more than 350 years. Redis­cov­ered, it now offers a wealth of infor­ma­tion on thou­sands and thou­sands of books from five-cen­turies ago, many of which have long since passed out of exis­tence.

Colón’s unique­ly exhaus­tive library cat­a­log opens a win­dow onto not just what 16th-cen­tu­ry Euro­peans were read­ing, but how they were read­ing — and how the very nature of read­ing was evolv­ing. “This was some­one who was, in a way, chang­ing the mod­el of what knowl­edge is,” Daley quotes Colón’s biog­ra­ph­er Edward Wil­son-Lee as observ­ing. “Instead of say­ing ‘knowl­edge is august, author­i­ta­tive things by some ven­er­a­ble old Roman and Greek peo­ple,’ he’s doing it induc­tive­ly: tak­ing every­thing that every­one knows and dis­till­ing it upwards from there.” The com­par­isons to “big data and Wikipedia and crowd­sourced infor­ma­tion” almost make them­selves, as do the ref­er­ences to a cer­tain 20th-cen­tu­ry Span­ish-lan­guage writer with an inter­est in his­to­ry, lan­guage, and knowl­edge as rep­re­sent­ed in books extant and oth­er­wise. If the Libro de los Epí­tomes did­n’t exist, Jorge Luis Borges would have had to invent it.

via the Guardian

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Rise and Fall of the Great Library of Alexan­dria: An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion

What Does Jorge Luis Borges’ “Library of Babel” Look Like? An Accu­rate Illus­tra­tion Cre­at­ed with 3D Mod­el­ing Soft­ware

Vis­it The Online Library of Babel: New Web Site Turns Borges’ “Library of Babel” Into a Vir­tu­al Real­i­ty

A Medieval Book That Opens Six Dif­fer­ent Ways, Reveal­ing Six Dif­fer­ent Books in One

Behold the “Book Wheel”: The Renais­sance Inven­tion Cre­at­ed to Make Books Portable & Help Schol­ars Study (1588)

Watch Umber­to Eco Walk Through His Immense Pri­vate Library: It Goes On, and On, and On!

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Animations Visualize the Evolution of London and New York: From Their Creation to the Present Day

If you’ve ever lived in a metrop­o­lis like Lon­don or New York, you know the some­times-dis­ori­ent­ing feel­ing of expe­ri­enc­ing sev­er­al decades—or centuries—at once in the dizzy­ing accre­tions of archi­tec­ture, street, and park designs. Or, at least, if you’ve toured one of those cities with a long­time res­i­dent, you’ve heard them loud­ly com­plain about how every­thing has changed. Whether you study urban life as a his­to­ri­an or a city dweller, you know well that change is con­stant in the sto­ry of big cities.

The ani­ma­tions here illus­trate the point on a grand scale, with a satellite’s‑eye view of New York, above, from 1609 when the city was first built on Lenape land to its cur­rent con­fig­u­ra­tion of five bor­oughs, dense thick­ets of high-ris­es, a mas­sive, com­plex trans­porta­tion sys­tem, and 8,600,000 res­i­dents. It ends with a quote from E.B. White that sums up the geog­ra­phy and vibran­cy of Man­hat­tan: “The city is like poet­ry: it com­press­es all life, all races, and breeds, into a small island and adds music and the accom­pa­ni­ment of inter­nal engines.”

The New York video “ani­mates the devel­op­ment of this city’s street grid and infra­struc­ture sys­tems,” writes its cre­ator Myles Zhang at Here Grows New York City, “using geo-ref­er­enced road net­work data, his­toric maps, and geo­log­i­cal sur­veys” to give us “car­to­graph­ic snap­shots” of every 20–30 years. Anoth­er project, the Lon­don Evo­lu­tion Ani­ma­tion, uses sim­i­lar tech­niques. But, of course, it reach­es much fur­ther back in time, to over 2000 years ago when the Romans built the first road sys­tem across Eng­land and the port of Lon­dini­um.

Cre­at­ed in 2014, the visu­al­iza­tion shows how the city evolved, “from its cre­ation as a Roman city in 43AD to the crowd­ed, chaot­ic megac­i­ty we see today.” As design­ers Flo­ra Roumpani and Pol­ly Hud­son describe at The Guardian, the project drew from sev­er­al sources, includ­ing the Muse­um of Lon­don Archae­ol­o­gy and the Uni­ver­si­ty of Cambridge’s engi­neer­ing depart­ment. From these two insti­tu­tions came “datasets from the Roman and Medieval peri­ods as well as the 17th and ear­ly 18th cen­turies,” and “road net­work datasets from the late 18th cen­tu­ry to today.”

Oth­er archives offered infor­ma­tion on the city’s his­tor­i­cal build­ings and mon­u­ments. Cap­tions and a time­line pro­vide a handy guide through its long his­to­ry, as we watch more and more roads and build­ings appear (and dis­ap­pear after the Great Fire). These videos are use­ful ref­er­ences for stu­dents of urban­ism, and they might give some per­spec­tive to the New York­er or Lon­don­er in your life who can’t stop talk­ing about how much the city’s changed. Just imag­ine what these megac­i­ties could look like in anoth­er few hun­dred years.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

See New York City in the 1930s and Now: A Side-by-Side Com­par­i­son of the Same Streets & Land­marks

Immac­u­late­ly Restored Film Lets You Revis­it Life in New York City in 1911

The Lon­don Time Machine: Inter­ac­tive Map Lets You Com­pare Mod­ern Lon­don, to the Lon­don Short­ly After the Great Fire of 1666

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

How Leonardo da Vinci Drew an Accurate Satellite Map of an Italian City (1502)

When I look at maps from cen­turies ago, I won­der how they could have been of any use. Not only were they filled with mytho­log­i­cal mon­sters and mytho­log­i­cal places, but the per­spec­tives most­ly served an aes­thet­ic design rather than a prac­ti­cal one. Of course, accu­ra­cy was hard to come by with­out the many map­ping tools we take for granted—some of them just in their infan­cy dur­ing the Renais­sance, and many more that would have seemed like out­landish mag­ic to near­ly every­one in 15th cen­tu­ry Europe.

Every­one, it some­times seems, but Leonar­do da Vin­ci, who antic­i­pat­ed and some­times steered the direc­tion of futur­is­tic pub­lic works tech­nol­o­gy. None of his fly­ing machines worked, and he could hard­ly have seen images tak­en from out­er space. But he clear­ly saw the prob­lem with con­tem­po­rary maps. The neces­si­ty of fix­ing them led to a 1502 aer­i­al image of Imo­la, Italy, drawn almost as accu­rate­ly as if he had been peer­ing at the city through a Google satel­lite cam­era.

“Leonar­do,” says the nar­ra­tor of the Vox video above, “need­ed to show Imo­la as an ichno­graph­ic map,” a term coined by ancient Roman engi­neer Vit­ru­vius to describe ground plan-style car­tog­ra­phy. No streets or build­ings are obscured, as they are in the maps drawn from the oblique per­spec­tive of a hill­top or moun­tain. Leonar­do under­took the project while employed as Cesare Borgia’s mil­i­tary engi­neer. “He was charged with help­ing Bor­gia become more aware of the town’s lay­out.” For this visu­al aid turned car­to­graph­ic mar­vel, he drew from the same source that inspired the ele­gant Vit­ru­vian Man.

While the vision­ary Roman builder could imag­ine a god’s eye view, it took some­one with Leonardo’s extra­or­di­nary per­spi­cac­i­ty and skill to actu­al­ly draw one, in a star­tling­ly accu­rate way. Did he do it with grit and mox­ie? Did he astral project thou­sands of miles above the city? Was he in con­tact with ancient aliens? No, he used geom­e­try, and a com­pass, the same means and instru­ments that allowed ancient sci­en­tists like Eratos­thenes to cal­cu­late the cir­cum­fer­ence of the earth, to with­in 200 miles, over 2000 years ago.

Leonar­do prob­a­bly also used an instru­ment called a bus­so­la, a device that mea­sures degrees inside a circle—like the one that sur­rounds his city map. Painstak­ing­ly record­ing the angles of each turn and inter­sec­tion in the town and mea­sur­ing their dis­tance from each oth­er would have giv­en him the data he need­ed to recre­ate the city as seen from above, using the bus­so­la to main­tain prop­er scale. Oth­er meth­ods would have been involved, all of them com­mon­ly avail­able to sur­vey­ors, builders, city plan­ners, and car­tog­ra­phers at the time. Leonar­do trust­ed the math, even though he could nev­er ver­i­fy it, but like the best map­mak­ers, he also want­ed to make some­thing beau­ti­ful.

It may be dif­fi­cult for his­to­ri­ans to deter­mine which inac­cu­ra­cies are due to mis­cal­cu­la­tion and which to delib­er­ate dis­tor­tion for some artis­tic pur­pose. But license or mis­takes aside, Leonardo’s map remains an aston­ish­ing feat, mark­ing a seis­mic shift from the geog­ra­phy of “myth and per­cep­tion” to one of “infor­ma­tion, drawn plain­ly.” There’s no telling if the arche­typ­al Renais­sance man would have liked where this path led, but if he lived in the 21st cen­tu­ry, he’d already have his mind trained on ideas that antic­i­pate tech­nol­o­gy hun­dreds of years in our future.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Carl Sagan Explains How the Ancient Greeks, Using Rea­son and Math, Fig­ured Out the Earth Isn’t Flat, Over 2,000 Years Ago

The Ele­gant Math­e­mat­ics of Vit­ru­vian Man, Leonar­do da Vinci’s Most Famous Draw­ing: An Ani­mat­ed Intro­duc­tion

Leonar­do da Vin­ci Saw the World Dif­fer­ent­ly… Thanks to an Eye Dis­or­der, Says a New Sci­en­tif­ic Study

Leonar­do da Vinci’s Ear­li­est Note­books Now Dig­i­tized and Made Free Online: Explore His Inge­nious Draw­ings, Dia­grams, Mir­ror Writ­ing & More

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

Notre Dame Captured in an Early Photograph, 1838

Accord­ing to Le Monde, the fire that rav­aged Notre Dame is now mer­ci­ful­ly under con­trol. Two thirds of the roof–and that beau­ti­ful spire–have been bad­ly dam­aged. The same like­ly goes for some pre­cious stained glass. But the two tow­ers still stand tall. And the struc­ture of the cathe­dral has been “saved and pre­served over­all,” reports the com­man­der of Paris’ fire­fight­ing brigade.

The pho­to above, tak­en by Louis Daguerre in 1838, helps pay visu­al trib­ute to Emmanuel Macron’s words tonight, “This his­to­ry is ours… I say to you very solemn­ly, this cathe­dral, we will rebuild it.” God­speed.

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The Charlie Chaplin Archive Opens, Putting Online 30,000 Photos & Documents from the Life of the Iconic Film Star

Char­lie Chap­lin knew his movies were pop­u­lar, but could he have imag­ined that we’d still be watch­ing them now, as the 130th anniver­sary of his birth approach­es? And even if he could, he sure­ly would­n’t have guessed that even the mate­ri­als of his long work­ing life would draw great fas­ci­na­tion in the 21st cen­tu­ry — much less that they would be made instan­ta­neous­ly avail­able to the entire world on a site like the Char­lie Chap­lin Archive. A project of the Fon­dazione Cinete­ca di Bologna, which has pre­vi­ous­ly worked to restore and pre­serve Chap­lin’s fil­mog­ra­phy itself, it con­sti­tutes the dig­i­ti­za­tion of Chap­lin’s “very own and painstak­ing­ly pre­served pro­fes­sion­al and per­son­al archives, from his ear­ly career on the Eng­lish stage to his final days in Switzer­land.”

This online archive includes every­thing from “the first hand­writ­ten notes of a sto­ry line to the shoot­ing of the film itself, stage by stage doc­u­men­tary evi­dence of the devel­op­ment of a film, or a project that nev­er even became a film,” as well as mate­ri­als not direct­ly relat­ed to the movies: “poems, lyrics, draw­ings, pro­grammes, con­tracts, let­ters, mag­a­zines, trav­el sou­venirs, com­ic books, car­toon strips, praise and crit­i­cism.”

The vast major­i­ty of these items have nev­er before been made pub­licly avail­able, and all of them enrich our pic­ture of the mak­er of clas­sic come­dies like Mod­ern TimesCity Lights, and The Great Dic­ta­tor as well as the high­ly event­ful peri­ods of his­to­ry through which he lived.‘

You can explore the Char­lie Chap­lin Archive by plung­ing straight into its col­lec­tion of more than 4,000 images and near­ly 25,000 doc­u­ments, or you can enter through its curat­ed top­ic sec­tions: one on Chap­lin’s ear­ly career offers a glimpse into the hum­ble launch of a cul­tur­al phe­nom­e­non that would go on to tran­scend cul­tures and eras; anoth­er on music shows Chap­lin, who grew up in a musi­cal fam­i­ly with musi­cal ambi­tions of his own, con­duct­ing orches­tras; and a sec­tion on trav­el presents clip­pings and pho­tos relat­ed to his jour­neys to places like Bali and Japan, from which he returned on the same boat as Jean Cocteau. “Cocteau could not speak a word of Eng­lish,” Chap­lin wrote in his auto­bi­og­ra­phy of the voy­age home. “Nei­ther could I speak French, but his sec­re­tary spoke a lit­tle Eng­lish, though not too well, and he act­ed as inter­preter for us.”

That night we sat up into the small hours, dis­cussing our the­o­ries of life and art,” Chap­lin con­tin­ues, quot­ing Cocteau’s sec­re­tary thus: “Mr Cocteau… he say… you are a poet… of zer sun­shine… and he is a poet of zer night.” These words, in turn, appear quot­ed (along­side the sketch of Chap­lin by Cocteau above) on the Char­lie Chap­lin Archive’s “Chap­lin and Jean Cocteau” page, one of its con­tin­u­ous­ly updat­ed sto­ries. Oth­ers col­lect mate­r­i­al relat­ed to Chap­lin’s lux­u­ry-item pur­chas­es, Chap­lin as direc­tor, and Chap­lin’s final speech deliv­ered as the title char­ac­ter of The Great Dic­ta­tor, which a recent announce­ment about the archive calls “one of the most licensed ele­ments of Chaplin’s work in the 21st cen­tu­ry” — a time whose sur­re­al­i­ty Cocteau might well rec­og­nize, and whose absur­di­ty Chap­lin cer­tain­ly would.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

65 Free Char­lie Chap­lin Films Online

Char­lie Chap­lin Gets Strapped into a Dystopi­an “Rube Gold­berg Machine,” a Fright­ful Com­men­tary on Mod­ern Cap­i­tal­ism

Char­lie Chap­lin Does Cocaine and Saves the Day in Mod­ern Times (1936)

Char­lie Chap­lin Films a Scene Inside a Lion’s Cage in 200 Takes

Watch Char­lie Chap­lin Demand 342 Takes of One Scene from City Lights

Cap­ti­vat­ing GIFs Reveal the Mag­i­cal Spe­cial Effects in Clas­sic Silent Films

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Thomas Mann Explains the Nazis’ Ulterior Motive for Spreading Anti-Semitism in Rare 1940 Audio

Here’s a rare record­ing of the Ger­man writer Thomas Mann, author of Bud­den­brooks and The Mag­ic Moun­tain, explain­ing what he sees as the real rea­son behind the sys­tem­at­ic spread­ing of anti-Semi­tism in Nazi Ger­many.

It’s from an NBC radio address Mann gave on March 9, 1940, while he was liv­ing in Cal­i­for­nia. Mann had gone into exile from Ger­many in 1933, short­ly after Adolf Hitler was elect­ed chan­cel­lor and began seiz­ing dic­ta­to­r­i­al pow­ers. The author had been an out­spo­ken crit­ic of the Nazi par­ty since its emer­gence in the ear­ly twen­ties.

In 1930, a year after he received the Nobel Prize in Lit­er­a­ture, Mann gave a high-pro­file “Address to the Ger­mans: An Appeal to Rea­son,” in which he denounced the Nazis as bar­bar­ians. A Chris­t­ian man mar­ried to a Jew­ish woman, Mann often spoke against the Naz­i’s anti-Semi­tism, which he saw as part of a larg­er assault on the Mediter­ranean under­pin­nings of West­ern Civ­i­liza­tion. In the radio address, Mann says:

The anti-semi­tism of today, the effi­cient though arti­fi­cial anti-Semi­tism of our tech­ni­cal age, is no object in itself. It is noth­ing but a wrench to unscrew, bit by bit, the whole machin­ery of our civ­i­liza­tion. Or, to use an up-to-date sim­i­le, Anti-Semi­tism is like a hand grenade tossed over the wall to work hav­oc and con­fu­sion in the camp of democ­ra­cy. That is its real and main pur­pose.

Lat­er in the speech, Mann argues that the Nazi attack on the Jews is “but a start­ing sig­nal for a gen­er­al dri­ve against the foun­da­tions of Chris­tian­i­ty, that human­i­tar­i­an creed for which we are for­ev­er indebt­ed to the peo­ple of the Holy Writ, orig­i­nat­ed in the old Mediter­ranean world. What we are wit­ness­ing today is noth­ing else than the ever recur­rent revolt of uncon­quered pagan instincts, protest­ing against the restric­tions imposed by the Ten Com­mand­ments.”

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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 in our site in June 2013.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

J.R.R. Tolkien Snubs a Ger­man Pub­lish­er Ask­ing for Proof of His “Aryan Descent” (1938)

Fritz Lang Tells the Riv­et­ing Sto­ry of the Day He Met Joseph Goebbels and Then High-Tailed It Out of Ger­many

Redis­cov­ered: The First Amer­i­can Anti-Nazi Film, Banned by U.S. Cen­sors and For­got­ten for 80 Years

The Enig­ma Machine: How Alan Tur­ing Helped Break the Unbreak­able Nazi Code

Lis­ten as Albert Ein­stein Reads ‘The Com­mon Lan­guage of Sci­ence’ (1941)

See the Oldest Printed Advertisement in English: An Ad for a Book from 1476

Nobody pays much mind to adver­tis­ing, at least the hap­haz­ard kind of adver­tis­ing that clut­ters the space around us. But here in the 21st cen­tu­ry, when both that space and the ads that appear through­out it are as like­ly to be dig­i­tal as phys­i­cal, we might take a moment to look back at how the prac­tice of putting up notices to sell things began. In the Eng­lish lan­guage, it goes back to at least to the mid-fif­teenth cen­tu­ry — specif­i­cal­ly, to the year 1476, when Britain’s first print­er William Cax­ton pro­duced not just a man­u­al for priests called Sarum Pie (or the Ordi­nale ad usum Sarum), but eas­i­ly postable, play­ing card-sized adver­tise­ments for the book as well.

“This piece of paper, of which two copies sur­vive, is regard­ed as the ear­li­est sur­viv­ing print­ed adver­tise­ment in the Eng­lish lan­guage,” writes Erik Kwakkel at medieval­books. It states that Sarum Pie “is print­ed in the same let­ter type as the adver­tise­ment (‘enpryn­tid after the forme of this present let­tre,’ line 3). Even with­out hav­ing seen the new book, its key fea­ture, the type, can thus already be assessed.” This pio­neer­ing adver­tise­ment also “reas­sures poten­tial clients that the text of the hand­book is ‘tru­ly cor­rect’ (line 4) and that it can be acquired cheap­ly (‘he shal have them good chepe,’ lines 5–6). Both fea­tures will have been wel­comed by priests, the tar­get audi­ence, who need­ed their tex­tu­al tools to be flaw­less and did not have much mon­ey to spend on them.”

Kwakkel also gets into oth­er notable fea­tures of this decep­tive­ly sim­ple-look­ing pro­duc­tion, includ­ing “the pre­cise loca­tion of Caxton’s shop,” a warn­ing in Latin urg­ing read­ers not to remove the notice (“show­ing that it was put on dis­play some­where,” per­haps a church porch), and even the type. In both the adver­tise­ment and Sarum Pie itself, “the let­ter shapes lack ‘sharp­ness:’ fre­quent­ly ‘blobs’ and small hair­lines appear as let­ters, while an indi­vid­ual let­ter usu­al­ly has a vari­ety of appear­ances when looked at in detail,” pos­si­bly an attempt by the print­er to cre­ate “a more ‘gen­uine’ – i.e. tra­di­tion­al, ‘man­u­script’ – look.”

It would have been impor­tant back then to make print­ed books look hand-copied, since not so long before, all books were hand-copied by def­i­n­i­tion. With the first Guten­berg Bible still less than half a cen­tu­ry old, ear­ly print­ers had to make sure their rel­a­tive­ly inex­pen­sive books did­n’t look like low-qual­i­ty sub­sti­tutes for the “real thing”; hence the assur­ances about both the type and the price in the text of Cax­ton’s adver­tise­ment. That the ori­gin of adver­tis­ing turns out to be close­ly con­nect­ed with reli­gion may come as a sur­prise — though giv­en the fact that the print rev­o­lu­tion itself began with a Bible, a prod­uct that in either phys­i­cal or dig­i­tal form now prac­ti­cal­ly sells itself, it may not be that big a sur­prise.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

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!

via medieval­books

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Oxford Uni­ver­si­ty Presents the 550-Year-Old Guten­berg Bible in Spec­tac­u­lar, High-Res Detail

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

One of World’s Old­est Books Print­ed in Mul­ti-Col­or Now Opened & Dig­i­tized for the First Time

Watch the First Com­mer­cial Ever Shown on Amer­i­can TV, 1941

Sell & Spin: The His­to­ry of Adver­tis­ing, Nar­rat­ed by Dick Cavett (1999)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

New Augmented Reality App Celebrates Stories of Women Typically Omitted from U.S. History Textbooks

How do we know if we’ve lived through a major shift toward greater equal­i­ty? Maybe it’s when his­to­ry text­books start telling dif­fer­ent sto­ries than the ones they’ve always told about heroes in knee breech­es, waist­coats, epaulets, top hats, and beards. Aside from the occa­sion­al his­tor­i­cal fig­ure in bon­net or bloomers, most texts real­ly have just told “his sto­ry.”

In the U.S., at least, stud­ies show that only 11% of the sto­ries in his­to­ry text­books are about women. Is this because 50% of the pop­u­la­tion only con­tributed to 11% per­cent of the country’s events? No, even the kids know—like the kids in the video above from a new app called Lessons in Her­sto­ry—his­to­ry most­ly fea­tures men because “a lot of it was writ­ten by men and was most­ly all about men.”

Text­book mak­ers, and the school boards who give them march­ing orders, may stick to their guns, so to speak, but anoth­er major shift could ren­der their dic­tates irrel­e­vant. Smart­phone and tablet tech­nol­o­gy has become so famil­iar to today’s kids that instead of turn­ing the pages, they “swipe, like, in the his­to­ry books,” as one of the young­sters puts it.

Stu­dents stuck with the old patri­ar­chal ped­a­go­gies can eas­i­ly sup­ple­ment, enhance, or sub­sti­tute their edu­ca­tion with new media. While there are some seri­ous down­sides to this phe­nom­e­non, giv­en a dis­tinct lack of qual­i­ty con­trol online, the inter­net has also opened up innu­mer­able oppor­tu­ni­ties for telling the sto­ries of women in his­to­ry.

Lessons in Her­sto­ry, built by an orga­ni­za­tion called Daugh­ters of the Evo­lu­tion, takes a unique approach. Instead of sup­plant­i­ng text­books, it adds to them in an aug­ment­ed real­i­ty smart­phone app (cur­rent­ly designed for ios devices) stu­dents can point at pic­tures of his­tor­i­cal dudes to pull up sto­ries about a notable women from the same time.

Grant­ed, some of these women, like Har­ri­et Tub­man and Saca­gawea, had already been grant­ed access to the lim­it­ed space allot­ted female fig­ures in grade school text­books. But a great many oth­er peo­ple in the app have not. Fea­tur­ing a diverse selec­tion of 75 her­stor­i­cal women, Lessons in Her­sto­ry is the prod­uct of ad agency Good­by Sil­ver­stein & Part­ners’ chief cre­ative offi­cer Mar­garet John­son, who launched it at this year’s SXSW.

The app has pret­ty lim­it­ed appli­ca­tion at the moment. It works with one text­book, A His­to­ry of US, Book 5: Lib­er­ty for All? 1820–1860, and with a hand­ful of his­tor­i­cal pho­tographs on its web­site. (Many of the women fea­tured made their mark after 1860.) But with plans to expand and with the back­ing of a large ad agency, who may or may not have their own designs in mar­ket­ing Lessons in Her­sto­ry, it promis­es to make women’s his­to­ry more acces­si­ble to stu­dents who already spend more time star­ing at screens than pages.

“There’s a say­ing,” writes Cara Cur­tis at The Next Web, “’you can’t be what you can’t see.’” Apps like Lessons in Her­sto­ry, along with a num­ber of influ­en­tial books and web­sites for young peo­ple that nar­rate the past through the lens of women, indige­nous peo­ple, African-Amer­i­cans, artists, activists, work­ing peo­ple, and so on, show kids that no mat­ter who they are or where they come from, peo­ple who looked like them have always made sig­nif­i­cant con­tri­bu­tions to his­to­ry.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“The Matil­da Effect”: How Pio­neer­ing Women Sci­en­tists Have Been Denied Recog­ni­tion and Writ­ten Out of Sci­ence His­to­ry

The Ency­clo­pe­dia of Women Philoso­phers: A New Web Site Presents the Con­tri­bu­tions of Women Philoso­phers, from Ancient to Mod­ern

Pop Art Posters Cel­e­brate Pio­neer­ing Women Sci­en­tists: Down­load Free Posters of Marie Curie, Ada Lovelace & More

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

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