A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Posted on August 21, 2014 by

A few days before the semester begins, our reading room generally gets pretty quiet, since summer visitors have headed home and our own faculty are busily preparing for the semester. So I was delighted to find this trio poring over materials together at the front table this afternoon, looking extremely excited and even a bit giddy. Some quick investigating revealed that they are (left to right) Tommy Antorino, Rebekah Coble, and Maggie Czerwien. They are brand new Ph.D. students in the Spanish Department. They met at their department orientation on Monday and learned about Special Collections at a Graduate Student Resources panel yesterday. Finding themselves with a bit of free time on their hands this afternoon, they headed down Under Grounds, and after learning the ropes from our reading room staff, found themselves in front of a Jorge Luis Borges manuscript. Hence, the giddiness.

I didn’t want to interrupt them for too long, so I asked if I could take their picture, and if they would share with me an adjective about their experience:

“Overwhelming.”

“Incredible.”

“Ecstatic to learn of the resources here at U.Va.”

Tommy, Rebekah, and Maggie, welcome to U.Va.!! We are so excited to have you and all your fellow new graduate students here on grounds. Here’s to a fantastic new academic year.

This Just In: A Tolkien Black Swan

Posted on August 14, 2014 by

This week, we feature a very unusual recent acquisition in a guest post by Special Collections curatorial assistant Elizabeth Ott, doctoral candidate in the U.Va. Department of English.

In the world of Special Collections it may be said that some books are born rare, some achieve rareness, and some have rareness thrust upon them. The last is the case for the unassuming blue pamphlet titled Songs for the Philologists, which recently made its way to the stacks of the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library. A strange admixture of chance and circumstance has conspired to make this pamphlet, co-authored by J.R.R. Tolkien and E.V. Gordon, the rarest publication of Tolkien’s career.

The front cover of Songs for the Philologists, which lists Tolkien first among the volume’s authors. PR6039.O32 S65 1936, Gift of Joan Kellogg, 2013.

During his tenure at Leeds University, Tolkien formed, with Gordon, a society known as the “Viking Club” devoted to reading Old Norse sagas and drinking beer. Sometime in 1934, Tolkien and Gordon prepared a set of typescripts of verses, including original compositions of their own devising as well as traditional songs in Old and Modern English and other languages. The typescripts were distributed to students from the club for their amusement.

Among those who received copies was former student A.H. Smith, then of University College London, who used his copies of the typescripts as a printing exercise for his own students in 1936. An unknown (but undoubtedly small) number of pamphlets were hand-set and privately printed by students on a replica wooden common press (not unlike the replica press located on the 2^nd floor of U.Va.’s Alderman Library in the Stettinius Gallery). Smith realized, after the pamphlets had already been printed, that he had not obtained permission from Tolkien and Gordon, so the pamphlet was never distributed. Instead, copies were kept in storage at the pressrooms on Gower Street.

The building was bombed in WWII. The pressrooms burned, along with the presses and any stock stored on the premises. The only copies of the pamphlet that survived were those that had been taken by the students who printed it. It is not known how many copies survived, though H. Winifred Husbands, one of the students involved in the printing, has estimated the number at thirteen.

There are thirty compositions in the book, including thirteen by Tolkien himself. Several of the verses reappear in later publications, altered or repurposed. A notable example is the poem “The Root of the Boot.” The poem was originally titled “Pero & Podex” (Boot and Bottom), but is also sometimes referred to as the Troll Song. In early drafts of The Fellowship of the Ring, Frodo sings it in the Prancing Pony in chapter nine. Readers will remember that it finally appears as Sam’s song in chapter twelve of the published version of the same book, and as “The Stone Troll” in Adventures of Tom Bombadil. Other poems poke fun at the academic community: Tolkien’s “Lit’ and Lang’” originally contained direct references to Leeds University, and was altered to omit them during printing. Tolkien noted, in 1966, that the alterations had the unfortunate side effect of breaking the rhyme.

J.R.R. Tolkien's Root Boot as it appears in the volume. Image displayed with permission of the J.R.R. Tolkien Literary Estate.

J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Root of the Boot” as it appears in the volume. (PR6039.O32 S65 1936, Gift of Joan Kellogg, 2013.) Image displayed with permission of the J.R.R. Tolkien Literary Estate. ©The Tolkien Estate Limited 2014

J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lit and Lang" as it appears in the volume. Image displayed with permission of the J. R. R. Tolkien Literary Estate

J.R.R. Tolkien’s “Lit’ and Lang'” as it appears in the volume. (PR6039.O32 S65 1936, Gift of Joan Kellogg, 2013.) Image displayed with permission of the J. R. R. Tolkien Literary Estate. ©The Tolkien Estate Limited 2014

So how did such a rare find come to the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections? In late 2013, Joan Kellogg, the widow of Professor of English and expert in Old Icelandic Robert Kellogg, generously invited curator Molly Schwartzburg to take from Professor Kellogg’s home library any volumes wanted for Special Collections. Almost two hundred rare and unusual items, from modern first editions to Icelandic travelogues and books of mythology, came to the library as a result of Mrs. Kellogg’s generosity. Many years ago, Professor Kellogg had donated to the library many remarkable books from the James Joyce collection of his father, Joyce scholar Charles E. Kellogg. Songs for the Philologists lacks a bookplate, so we do not know whether the book belonged to the father or the son; it has strong ties to both of their research interests. The library was pleased to be able to share our excitement about the Tolkien item with Mrs. Kellogg before she passed away on December 31, 2013.

The Kellogg copy of “Songs for the Philologists” is one of only four copies held by libraries in the United States and one of eight held by libraries worldwide. Fantasy fans and Old Norse addicts alike are encouraged to consult the pamphlet for inspiration in starting their own “Viking Club” here on grounds.

Detail of the back cover of the volume, showing a device used by the print shop of the University College, London. (PR6039.O32 S65 1936, Gift of Joan Kellogg, 2013.)

Editorial Antics: A peek into the newly acquired manuscript magazine, The Gleaner

Posted on August 7, 2014 by

This week, we are pleased to feature a guest post by graduate curatorial assistant Elizabeth Ott, who has just finished preparing a small exhibition on a recently acquired magazine. The exhibition, The Gleaner: Documenting the Great War, opens Friday, August 8 and will remain on view through October.

While working on this serious exhibition, Elizabeth became increasingly distracted by the hilarious antics of the editorial team leading the magazine. In this blog post, she provides an overview of the magazine’s unusual editorial structure before sharing with you some of the tastiest tidbits.

In my work at Special Collections, I often come across items that are very easy to interpret when you hold them in your hands but become rather more complicated to describe to another person. Such an item is the recently acquired sixteen-issue run of The Gleaner (1910-1918). On its title page it declares itself an “amateur manuscript magazine,” an accurate yet vague description of an object that combines the methodology of a commonplace book or a picture album with the reflective qualities of a diary, the exchange of an epistolary correspondence, and the aspirations of literary quarterly. Its pages–a mix of handwritten and typed contributions alongside original works of art in pen, watercolor, charcoal, and pastels–tell the story of a fascinating community of men and women from across the United Kingdom in the years leading up to and during the Great War.

The title page for this issue from May/June 1918 features colorful calligraphy, contributed in lieu of an artistic submission. Members who failed to contribute at all to an issue were fined. (Not yet cataloged. Library Associates Endowment Fund.)

Each issue of The Gleaner is physically unique: only one copy was produced. Members submitted essays, stories, poems, drawings, etc. to editor Winifred T. Godfrey of Kew Gardens, Surrey. Godfrey collected and bound the entries inside an original cover (usually artwork submitted by a member), and added a table of contents, editorial preface, postal list, and section of criticism. Other features included a section where members voted for favorite submissions or left suggestions for future issues. Godfrey then mailed the completed magazine to the first member on the postal list. Each member was to keep the magazine for up to two days, then send it on to the next person on the list. When it had made its rounds, it was returned to Godfrey, with the critical remarks of each member to be added to the next issue.

Cover designs for The Gleaner were contributed by members. These four early issues date from 1910-13.

It is not entirely clear how the magazine began, or how its members came together. They lived and worked in disparate parts of the country and came from a variety of political and social backgrounds: some were old and some young, some women and some men, married and unmarried alike. Some members appear to have known each other outside its pages, while others were clearly strangers—one member, Maisie Swift, notes her shock upon learning that long-time member Mr. Morrison was quite young. “Please don’t take offense,” she writes, before admitting that in her head she calls him “Old Sam.” In early issues members rarely used their first names, but in later issues frequently did, and sometimes submitted pictures of themselves to be included in the magazine’s pages.

“I sketch for that” by J.M. Minty. Art contributions to The Gleaner are enclosed as originals, as in this ink and watercolor cartoon.

This humorous illustrated essay, poking fun at advertising rhetoric, is from the September/October 1918 issue, but unfortunately lacks an author attribution. The essay combines hand-written commentary, watercolor sketches, and clippings from newspapers.

Contributors paid a nominal fee for membership (the price of postage) and could be fined for failing to submit contributions on time. But the most onerous tasks involved in producing this a labor-intensive product (at times, issues of The Gleaner appear to have been produced once every two months) fell largely on the shoulders of editor Winifred Godfrey. In her editorial prefaces, she frequently chides members for late submissions, poor-quality artwork, or unintentional postal mishaps. They, in turn, fill the suggestions page with complaints about tardy receipts of the magazine or not having enough time to read it each month.

The editor here critiques the magazine’s submissions, stating, “I am afraid this number is not particularly good, in either the literary or the artistic portion, but if you will not contribute properly you cannot expect the mag. to be very good.” (Not yet cataloged, Library Associates Endowment Fund).

Photograph of Winifred T. Godfrey with a short essay describing her experiences having her picture taken. Godfrey’s essay is at once vain and deprecating: “When I first saw the photograph I was quite pleased with it, but when you look into it, it isn’t quite as good as you expect.”

It may have been for this reason that Godfrey invited one of the members, Leander Demetrius Potous, to join her as Sub-Editor. Potous’s original task seems to have been typing up the criticism and prefatory material. Potous, who styled himself a “Humoresque,” took things a step farther, using his new-found position as typist to insert sarcastic and caustic commentary into the magazine, particularly in the criticism section. Potous’s commentary was often scathing. He contradicted positive reviews by cheerful members and mocked those with literary aspirations. He inserted articles with titles like “How to Write a Poem for The Gleaner” that excoriated members–by name–for derivative entries.

This pen sketch, decorating a photograph of the infamous Sub-Editor, is signed Selwyn B. Potous—perhaps a relative of Leander.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Potous’s editorial influence was not well-appreciated, and members began to resign at an alarming rate, citing the toxic tone in the criticism section, spurred on by Potous, as their primary reason for departure. In the Nov/Dec 1917 issue, early in Potous’s tenure as Sub-Editor, Godfrey writes in her preface:

Yet another resignation: F.A. Griffin no longer finds the ‘Gleaner’ as interesting as it used to be. She thinks the influence of the Sub-Ed. completely spoils it, and that he stirs up strife among the members, and causes continual arguing and unpleasantness in the criticism. Poor S.E.! He seems to be blamed for a lot!

Godfrey’s sympathy for Potous waned, however, when his antics interfered with her editorial duties. In the Jan/Feb 1918 issue, Godfrey inserted a long note near the back of the book, noting with alarm that:

I don’t know what is the matter with you all this time! I have just returned today from spending a holiday at Eastbourne, and find this magazine awaiting me, while I see that six members have not had it at all yet. Why Mr. Johnston, after apparently keeping it five or six days instead of two, returned it to me instead of sending it on to Mr. Holt, I do not know. It has already had one lost journey by being sent on by Mr. Greenhorn to Mr. Potous instead of to Mr. Lewin, but this was really Mr. Phillips’ fault for putting Mr. Potous address on back when sending on.

The blame, she insists, lies with Mr. Potous:

I believe a lot of this trouble, however, may be caused by the Sub Editor’s having tampered with the Postal List, and sending it to one of the members out of her turn. And he has even had the audacity to cross my name off the end of the list, and put his own I notice! Please, no more altering or tampering with my Postal List, Mr. Sub Editor! It only makes the magazine look untidy, and is apt to muddle members who have not enough time to study things carefully or to read your detailed remarks.

Potous’s crime in altering her postal list is further compounded by the rather incendiary departure of another longtime member. Godfrey writes:

The following is an exact copy of a postcard I have just received from D.T. Wilcock—it will be remembered that the Sub Editor called him a “lunatic” in his last criticisms; I don’t know if he thought I was guilty of this and wished to be revenged, but here it is:–

‘Book sent away to Mr. Morrison from Wilcock Heptonstall today Sunday Sept 23^rd 1917. To be fair with you it requires a lunatic to deal with you at present I saw that from your photo. You may be dealt with less mercifully some day. If the magazine was a thing that mattered much you would have known about it from your magazine. No wonder you are on the shelf. I am excused from responsibility of law court actions from the Gleaner in future.’

I have no idea what this all means—I am really rather inclined to think the Sub Ed. may be right for once, in his estimation of Mr. Wilcock. Anyway, I think you will all agree that I am justified in dismissing Wilcock from our midst henceforth; I cannot have postcards of this description being sent to our house; my father was very annoyed about it.”

Potous, for his part, appended his own defense, totalling four pages of type densely packed, biting back with characteristic zeal:

I do not remember calling our late member a ‘lunatic’ I am certain I did nothing of the sort. I may have asked him at what lunatic asylum he was residing, but this is quite another thing—he might have been there as a doctor or keeper or something of that sort. On the other hand, he might have been there as an inmate—one never knows.

Godfrey inserts another sheet, handwritten, at the close of this issue with a distressed call for members to send her a confidential postcard voting on whether or not Potous should be removed from his office, and, indeed, by the next issue Potous is conspicuously absent. Some departed members did return, but the criticism section remained contentious. One member groused that “in spite of our late Sub-editor’s retirement, scathing, unnecessary critiques still appear rife among the members.”

A detail from the page featuring a portrait of the Sub-Editor.

Though in-fighting often centered around the perceived literary or artistic merits of contributions, just as often members expressed divergent opinions about politics and current events, including the events of World War I, which was contemporary with the later years of the magazine’s run. Editorial antics aside, The Gleaner represents an important archive of a pivotal moment in Western history. Those interested in exploring this record of World War 1 are invited to view the exhibition The Gleaner: Documenting the Great War, in the First Floor Gallery at the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library.

This Just In: Jacket Required!

Posted on July 24, 2014 by

The Congalton collection of 19th-century books in original dust jackets and/or removable coverings as it looked before shipment to Charlottesville.

Yes, you read that correctly: the Albert and Shirley Small Special Collections Library has implemented a dress code. Um, for books, that is. Henceforth all future book acquisitions from, say, 1880 to the present are requested to arrive suitably attired in original dust jackets whenever possible. Readers may continue to come as they are (within reason).

Friendship’s Offering, or the Annual Remembrancer, a Christmas Present or New Year’s Gift (London: Lupton Relfe, 1823) was one of the earliest English “gift books,” The fragile binding of embossed paper boards was given added protection (and a marketing boost) by a protective cardboard case, onto which was pasted a hand-colored engraved title.

Our new policy reflects one of three major acquisitions made this spring: a collection of 700 titles (in 829 volumes) of 19^th-century American and English books (with a few European imprints) in original dust jackets and/or removable coverings. Formed over the past two decades by Tom Congalton, proprietor of Between the Covers Rare Books in Gloucester City, NJ, the collection is quite simply the largest such holding ever documented. Add to this the Small Special Collections Library’s existing holdings of nearly 200 19^th-century titles, and the combined collection is—by far—the largest known in public or private hands.

A fine example of one of the earliest surviving American dust jackets. The Children’s Garland from the Best Poets (Cambridge, Mass.: Sever and Francis, 1863) was issued in several binding styles, as advertised on the front of the dust jacket; this copy is bound in “extra cloth” and was priced at $1.25. The fragile jacket is printed on the spine and front panel only, and it is in the form of a wrap-around band sealed on the reverse. This example was torn open rather than slipped off the book, but otherwise it has been carefully preserved.

Given the ubiquity of dust jackets on 20^th– and 21^st-century books, how, you might well ask, could a collection of only a thousand volumes rank as the world’s largest for the 19^th century? The answer lies in the changing views of collectors and libraries toward the preservation of these ephemeral coverings. The origins of the dust jacket remain murky—indeed, our new acquisition may now enable scholars to write an authoritative account of its early history—but we can trace dust jackets back to the introduction of publishers’ cloth and printed paper bindings during the 1820s. It was not until a century later, however, that some collectors and libraries began to reconsider their longstanding practice of routinely discarding dust jackets. Today few collectors and special collections libraries would consider throwing away dust jackets—especially early ones—but the damage has been done. Relatively few 19^th-century jackets survive in institutional collections, and fewer still are available on the market. Acquiring and preserving these for research purposes will be slow and painstaking work.

The back panel of this dust jacket, on a presentation copy of William Cullen Bryant’s The Flood of Years (New York: G.P. Putnam’s sons, 1878) is devoted to ads for this and other Putnam titles, with a new marketing innovation: smaller-print “blurbs” have been added for several books.

Dust jackets and removable coverings originally protected publishers’ bindings, especially those made of more expensive and fragile materials, from fading and excessive wear. When, in the mid-1820s, British and American publishers adopted the German practice of offering “gift books” and annuals bound in silk or fancy printed boards, they also provided decorative cardboard sheaths to protect the delicate bindings. Some publishers also sold books in sealed printed wrappings, which by definition had to be opened and discarded before the book could be read. These wrappings soon evolved into paper jackets with tucked-in flaps, but their adoption by publishers was slow and haphazard until the 1880s. Before then dust jackets tended to be plain or simply printed, carrying little more than author, title, and publisher on the spine and/or front cover.

This color-printed children’s book–Robert Bloomfield’s The Horkey (London: Macmillan, 1882)–is bound in color-printed paper boards. The dust jacket replicates the color-printed title page design in a single color–perhaps color was considered an unnecessary extravagance for this ephemeral covering.

Dust jackets came into their own during the 1880s when many publishers adopted the practice. Most continued to be rather plain in design, serving a basic marketing function by identifying the author, title, and sometimes the price. Publishers often used the back panel to advertise their other recent publications, sometimes glossed with promotional “blurbs.” During the 1890s dust jackets were increasingly viewed by publishers as integral components of their marketing efforts. Many were pictorial in nature, often replicating a book’s decorative binding as closely as possible, though publishers freely experimented with dust jacket design. The previously plain jacket flaps were increasingly filled with publishers’ advertisements, blurbs, and other promotional text. Continuing a practice dating to the 1860s, publishers issued some titles for the holiday and gift markets in deluxe bindings protected by dust jackets and/or cardboard boxes. By the early 20^th century, publishers began to favor plain edition bindings wrapped in highly decorative dust jackets.

The dust jacket on Arabella Buckley’s The Fairy-Land of Science (New York: D. Appleton, 1881) is a very early example of a design which closely replicates in print the elaborate publisher’s cloth binding, here stamped in gilt and black ink.

Why collect dust jackets at all? The status of modern dust jackets as significant examples of graphic design worthy of serious study and collecting is now firmly established, as is our respect (some might say fetish) for the dust jacket covering a literary first edition. But in the words of G. Thomas Tanselle, dean of American bibliographers, president of the Bibliographical Society of the University of Virginia, and author of Book-Jackets: Their History, Forms, and Use (Charlottesville, 2011): “less serious bibliographical attention has been paid to [dust jackets], it is probably safe to say, than to any other prominent feature of modern book production.” The Small Special Collections Library has long collected materials relating to the printing, publishing, distribution, and reception of texts, and it is only fitting that we strengthen our already formidable holdings with the primary sources necessary for studying this neglected aspect of the modern book.

This expensive ($7.50) deluxe copy of W.H. Gibson’s Highways and Byways, or Saunterings in New England (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1883) received elaborate and unusual packaging. The publisher’s richly gilt binding is stamped on high-quality bookcloth. Protecting the binding is a dust jacket consisting of a large printed advertisement for another Gibson work published by Harper in similar format. The book is laid in the publisher’s protective cardboard box bearing advertisements for two Gibson works issued in matching format.

On View Now: Fred Hagstrom’s Passage, The Little Book of Slavery and their Origins

Posted on July 17, 2014 by

The blog has been on summer vacation! We are so pleased to be back with the news that we have a new mini-exhibition ready for visitors! We encourage you to stop by the First Floor Gallery to take a look at “Fred Hagstrom’s Passage, The Little Book of Slavery and their Origins.”

This exhibition features two recently acquired artists’ books that draw on artifacts deeply rooted in our collections of African-American history and slavery-related materials.Using iconic images and texts from the transatlantic slave trade and the anti-slavery movement, American artist Fred Hagstrom produces a compelling interpretation of this history. On display with Hagstrom’s books are artifacts the artist used as the conceptual foundations of his artistic statements about the immorality of slavery. In both books, he produces heavy layers of texture and color in his interpretations of the iconic diagram of the slave ship Brookes, photographs, engravings, and texts from the era of slavery.

Of particular note is Hagstrom’s use of our library’s famous daguerrotype of Isaac Granger Jefferson, who was enslaved by Thomas Jefferson. Visitors may compare the original image with Hagstrom’s interpretation of it.

This daguerrotype of Isaac Granger Jefferson is frequently reproduced as an historical artifact; Hagstrom's pixellated image of it, juxtaposed with high-resolution close-ups of the equally iconic image of the "Slave Ship Brookes," opens new interpretive possiblities.

This daguerrotype of Isaac Granger Jefferson is frequently reproduced as an historical artifact; Hagstrom’s exaggeratedly pixellated image of it, juxtaposed with high-resolution close-ups of the equally iconic image of the “Slave Ship Brookes,” opens new interpretive possiblities. (MSS 2041. Tracy W. McGregor Library of American History)

Detail of Hagstrom's Passage as it is exhibited.

The page featuring Isaac Granger Jefferson in “Passage,” as it is exhibited. (N7433.4 .H34 P37 2013. Associates Endowment Fund)

Also on display is one of our copies of the famous diagram of “The British Slave Ship Brookes,” as it appeared in “An Abstract of the Evidence Delivered Before a Select Committee of the House of Commons, in the Years 1790 and 1790.” Edinburgh, Printed for J. Robertson, 1791. (HT1162 .a5 1791 no.1 Plate)

This exhibition offers just a glimpse into Mr. Hagstrom’s work, which we hope will be a fertile ground for study by students and scholars alike. Our artists’ books collections cover a wide variety of genres, aesthetic approaches, and subject matter, and we are particularly interested in examples that relate to our varied collecting strengths. Perhaps this exhibit will tempt you to come take a closer look at Passage or The Little Book of Slavery in our reading room after the exhibition comes down. Until then, here are some more of the striking justapositions to be found in Passage:

The front cover of Passage. Image courtesy of the artist.

The front cover of “Passage.” Image by Peter Lee, courtesy of Fred Hagstrom.

A page spread in Passage. Image courtesy of the artist.

A page spread from “Passage.” (Click twice to zoom in to read the text.) Image by Peter Lee, courtesy of Fred Hagstrom.

A page spread from “Passage.” (Click twice to zoom in to read the text.) Image by Peter Lee, courtesy of Fred Hagstrom.

You can learn more about Hagstrom’s work on his Carleton College website.

This Just In: Spring Miscellany

Posted on May 22, 2014 by

U.Va.’s Final Exercises have concluded, and Grounds is quiet this week. Shortly the summer session will begin (as well as the inevitable summer construction projects), and both temperature and humidity will, no doubt, rise. Under Grounds it is busyness as usual as we catch up with what so far has been a banner spring for acquisitions. Following is a random selection of some early printed books newly added to our shelves.

A stellar eclipse! This engraved portrait of astronomer Tycho Brahe is actually a cancel slip pasted over another engraved portrait inadvertently printed on the wrong leaf. Note how the lower left corner is lifting upward, and the engraved border of the underlying portrait is visible at left. Giacomo Filippo Tomasini, Illustrium virorum elogia iconibus exornata (Padua, 1630), p. 242. (CT1122 .T6 1630)

Giacomo Filippo Tomasini’s Illustrium virorum elogia iconibus exornata (Padua, 1630) is a collection of biographies of noted scientists, astronomers, doctors, jurists, and theologians, most of whom lived in Padua and taught at its famous university. Of special note are the bibliographies of each subject’s writings, and the fine full-page engraved portraits by the French artist Jérôme David. Indeed, it was the engraved portrait of Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe that caught our eye in a bookseller’s booth at the New York International Antiquarian Book Fair last month. Unbeknownst to the dealer, this portrait is actually a cancel pasted over a different engraved portrait inadvertently printed in the wrong place! During the hand-press period, serious printing errors were typically corrected by “cancelling” an entire leaf and replacing it with a corrected replacement leaf or, as here, by pasting a cancel slip over the portion needing correction. Text cancels are fairly common in early printed books, but a cancel illustration is rarely encountered.

Engraved reproduction of the famous Dove Mosaic discovered by Giuseppe Alessandro Furietti at Hadrian’s Villa and now in Rome’s Capitoline Museum. Furietti believed it to be the actual mosaic created by Sosus for the royal palace at Pergamon, as described by Pliny the Elder in his Natural History. Giuseppe Alessandro Furietti, De musivis (Rome, 1752), plate [1]. (NA3750 .F8 1752)

De musivis (Rome, 1752), by the Italian antiquarian and cleric Giuseppe Alessandro Furietti, is one of the earliest scholarly works devoted to Roman mosaics. Written just as the rediscovery of Pompeii and Herculaneum was inspiring new interest in Greek and Roman antiquities, Furietti’s work summarizes what was then known about Roman mosaics, incorporating new findings from Furietti’s own excavations at Hadrian’s Villa. Of particular interest are Furietti’s notes on the musivarii (the Roman artisans responsible for the figurative portions of mosaics), as well as his comments on mosaic art in Italy since the fall of the Roman Empire.

A cartographer’s tools, from Manoel de Azevedo Fortes, Tratado do modo o mais facil, e o mais exacto de fazer as cartas geograficas (Lisbon, 1722), plate 3. (GA102.3 .F67 1722)

Special Collections is well known for its distinguished cartographic holdings—particularly of maps and atlases concerning the discovery and exploration of North America—and recently we added the perfect complement: one of the earliest printed manuals on mapmaking. Cartography had long been an essential skill for military engineers and surveyors, who could turn to printed works in their fields for guidance, but manuals specifically directed at cartographers were a late development. Manoel de Azevedo Fortes’s rare Tratado do modo o mais facil, e o mais exacto de fazer as cartas geograficas … (Lisbon, 1722) was the first such manual in Portuguese. Fortes based his work in part on French manuals. Although he writes in part for a military audience, Fortes directs this work primarily at fellow members of Portugal’s Royal Academy of History who desire to complement their writings with maps. Of particular interest are his comments on cartographic symbols and map coloring.

A lesson in caricature: examples of various noses, profiles, and head shapes. Francis Grose, Rules for drawing caricaturas, 2nd ed. (London, 1796), plate IV. (NC1320 .G76 1796)

We have also acquired another early manual on an entirely different subject: the art of caricature. A well known English antiquary and scholar of English slang, Francis Grose (1731-1791) was also an amateur artist who delighted in “comic painting.” In Rules for drawing caricaturas: with an essay on comic painting, Grose sought to explain how artists such as Hogarth and Gilpin manipulated the human form and visage for comic effect. This second, expanded edition, published posthumously in London in 1796, includes 21 plates, seventeen of which were etched by Grose himself. Most are caricatures of himself and his fellow antiquaries.

Front cover of David Claypoole Johnston, Scraps no. 1, new series (Boston, 1849). (E166 .J65 1849)

The art of caricature soon took root in the United States, thanks in part to the influence of English émigré artists. One of the most famous antebellum American cartoonists was David Claypoole Johnston (1798-1865), who excelled in many artistic media. Some of his best cartoon “Scraps” were published from 1828 to 1849 in a series of numbered portfolios, of which we recently acquired two. Their etchings poke fun at contemporary events such as the Mexican-American War, emerging issues such as women’s rights, contemporary fads such as phrenology, and, of course, the art world.

One of the cartoon “scraps” in David Claypoole Johnston, Scraps no. 1, new series (Boston, 1849) (E166 .J65 1849)

This Just In: Printing Planographically

Posted on May 1, 2014 by

Title page to Jean Midolle, Album du Moyen Âge (Strasbourg, 1836) ( NK3630 .M53 1836)

In recent months U.Va. has had unusual opportunities to enhance its already strong collections on 19^th-century planographic printing. Prior to the invention of lithography by Alois Senefelder in 1796, printers used a variety of relief (letterpress, woodcut &c.) and intaglio (engraving, etching &c.) processes for replicating text and image. Senefelder’s innovative method of printing from a flat surface offered printers a new tool which, thanks to continuing refinement during the 19^th century, emerged as the leading method for printing multicolor illustrations. And by the later 20^th century, offset lithography would supplant letterpress as the preferred method for printing text.

A lithographed plate from Konrad Ludwig Schwab. Anatomische Abbildungen des Pferdekörpers (Munich, 1820 ) (SF765 .S45 1820)

Because the technologies of lithography inform many aspects of 19^th-century printing, the graphic arts, and book culture, the Small Special Collections Library has long sought to acquire a representative collection of technical manuals and printing specimens documenting lithography’s gradual ascendancy. Included are rare lithographic “incunabula” printed up to ca. 1820. Five years ago we were fortunate to acquire a fine copy of Konrad Ludwig Schwab’s Anatomische Abbildungen des Pferdekörpers (1813) published (as were many of the earliest lithographed books) in Munich, and illustrated with several large plates depicting horse anatomy. To it we have now added the equally rare second edition (Munich, 1820). This is no mere reprint, for the plates have been redone in more accomplished fashion, demonstrating how far lithography had progressed in only a few short years.

An early lithographic press and related equipment as depicted in Antoine Raucourt de Charleville, A manual of lithography, or memoir on the lithographical experiments made in Paris (2nd ed., London, 1821) (NE2420 .R25 1821)

Lithography quickly spread throughout Europe and beyond, particularly after 1818 when Senefelder published the first comprehensive manual. Others followed in quick succession, and through these we can trace the many technical innovations introduced during the 1820s and 1830s. By 1819 English printers could read not only Senefelder’s work, but also the leading French manual (by Antoine Raucourt de Charleville) in an English translation prepared by the London lithographer Charles Hullmandell. We recently acquired the second edition (1821), to which Hullmandell appended plates depicting a lithographic press, which looked and operated far differently from relief and intaglio presses. Another recent acquisition is the very rare Mémoire sur l’art du lithographe (Paris, [1829]) of Alphonse Chevallier. Included is a set of progressive plates illustrating Chevallier’s methods for creating certain artistic effects lithographically.

Two stages in the creation of a lithographic image, from Alphonse Chevallier, Mémoire sur l’art du lithographe (Paris, [1829]) (NE2420 .C54 1829)

Lithography flourished in the late 19^th century with the perfection of new technologies (most notably chromolithography and photolithography), improved equipment (especially steam-powered presses), and its application to new markets such as advertising matter and commercial packaging. Camillo Doyen’s rare Trattato di litografia: storico, teorico, pratico ed economico (Turin, 1877) is typical of later lithographic manuals: massive, richly detailed, and full of useful insights into regional practices.

A steam-powered lithographic press illustrated in Camillo, Doyen, Trattato di litografia: storico, teorico, pratico ed economico (Turin, 1877) (NE2425 .D68 1877)

By 1900 German and Austrian lithographers were perhaps the most accomplished in Europe, producing high quality book illustrations and other work for publishers as far afield as the United States. The text and sample plates to Friedrich Hesse’s Die Chromolithographie (2^nd ed., Halle, 1906) are important for understanding and identifying the many variant processes in the commercial lithographer’s toolkit.

A specimen chromolithographed map inserted as a plate in Friedrich Hesse, Die Chromolithographie (Halle, 1906) (NE2500 .H47 1906)

Printers have long sought to demonstrate and advertise their prowess through specimen work, and lithographers have been no exception. Perhaps the finest early chromolithographic printing was that executed by the Strasbourg firm of Frédéric Émile Simon. During the 1830s Simon teamed with the innovative calligrapher Jean Midolle to issue three extraordinary specimen books, one of which we have now acquired: Album du Moyen Âge (1836). That many of its plates are heightened with dusted gold, silver, and bronze powders, and even some discreet hand coloring, does not detract from their beauty and technical mastery. Fifty years later the Swedish sign painter advertised his work to potential clients by issuing Skyltmotiv (1884), a very rare portfolio containing 30 sample designs of his best work. Here the ability of Stockholm chromolithographer C. A. Carlsson to reproduce woodgraining and three-dimensional effects planographically is nothing short of miraculous.

A chromolithographic tour de force from Frithiof Telenius, Skyltmotiv (Stockholm, 1884)

By 1900 it was not unusual for lithographers to print chromolithographic images in 20 or more colors, each applied with a different lithographic stone. A successful image required not only perfect registration, but the careful application of colors in proper sequence to achieve the desired effect. How this was done is illustrated through a set of progressive proofs we recently acquired. Formerly in the archive of the American Lithographic Co., it comprises the firm’s official set of 39 proofs documenting job no. 7038K: a cigar box label printed ca. 1900. Many proofs bear annotations indicating corrections to be made, followed by the corrected proofs. At front is the completed image (still marked for correction) showing at bottom a color bar with the ten hues employed, applied in sequence from right to left.

Proof of a 10-color chromolithographed cigar box label, marked up for correction (NE2515 .A54 1900)

Tales from Under Grounds: Mr. Jefferson, his Women and his University

Posted on April 24, 2014 by

This is the last in a series of four posts, spotlighting the mini-exhibitions of students from USEM 1570: Researching History.

Tales from Under Grounds, Auditorium of the Harrison Institute/Small Special Collections, November 19, 2013. (Photograph by Sanjay Suchak.)

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Laura McCarthy, Second-Year Student

Laura McCarthy introduces herself at Tales from Under Grounds, November 19, 2013. (Photograph by Sanjay Suchak.)

Martha Jefferson Randolph: Her Time in the Spotlight

Martha Jefferson Randolph was born to Thomas Jefferson and Martha Wayles Skelton in the fall of 1772. As the only child to outlive Thomas Jefferson, Martha Randolph was endowed with the task of continuing her father’s esteemed legacy. During her lifetime, Randolph went above and beyond the duties assigned to the typical southern lady. As a mother of eleven, first lady, alumna of an exclusive Parisian school, and head of the Monticello estate, Randolph lived a life full of ambition, grace, and fortitude.

Draft of Martha Jefferson Randolph’s Will, 1834, from the Papers of the Randolph Family of Edgehill. In 1834, two years before her death, Martha Jefferson Randolph drafted a copy of her will, delineating the recipients of the property she planned to leave behind. These recipients include, but are not limited to, her five daughters, Mr. Coolidge (her son-in-law) and George Randolph (her son). She divides up her funds and other prized possessions, such as her father’s clock and includes her intentions for the futures of her slaves. For example, she states, “To Betsy Hemmings, Sally and Wormley, I wish my children to give their time.” By this, Randolph is indicating that she wishes for these enslaved people to have an informal emancipation which allows them to stay in the state of Virginia, instead of having to leave in one year as in the case of those formally emancipated. (MSS 1397. Image by Petrina Jackson)

Martha Jefferson Randolph’s Music Book. Monticello Music Collection. Music was an important aspect of the Jefferson family household. Both Thomas Jefferson and his wife Martha Wayles Skelton Jefferson were keen on music. For example, while the two were in courtship, Thomas Jefferson presented a pianoforte to Martha Wayles Skelton as a gift. Undoubtedly, the Jefferson’s raised their daughter Martha Jefferson Randolph to respect music in much the same way as they did. Martha Randolph started practicing music when she was 11, and, in 1784, went to Paris to study music along with drawing and literature. This music book owned by Martha Jefferson Randolph contains six Sonatas by Bach and one trio by Mozart. (MSS 3177-a. On Deposit from the Thomas Jefferson Foundation. Photograph by Sanjay Suchak.)

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Elvera Santos, First-Year Student

Elvera Santos posed with her mini-exhibition, November 19, 2013. (Photograph by Sanjay Suchak.)

Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings: You Decide

Displaying several historical resources, this exhibition about the 38-year liaison between Thomas Jefferson and his slave mistress, Sally Hemings, provides an eye opening experience to a debate that has been going on since the late 18th-century. The writings of Jefferson contemporaries and family members, such as Dumas Malone and, Ellen Wayles Randolph discount the relationship. On the other hand, the accounts of other contemporaries, like John Carpenter, John Hartwell Cocke, and John Rutledge support the relationship.

Sally Hemings was the half-sister of Thomas Jefferson’s late wife, Martha Wayles Jefferson. The relationship is believed to have begun in France when Sally Hemings served as the maid to Thomas Jefferson’s daughter. Many say Thomas Jefferson fathered Sally Hemings’s five children who lived past childhood. Whether or not you choose to believe is for you to decide.

Ellen W. Randolph Coolidge Letter to Joseph Coolidge (her husband). October, 24, 1858. Ellen Wayles Randolph Coolidge was the grand-daughter of Thomas Jefferson. In her letter to her husband, she defends Jefferson against the allegations that he kept a mistress. She calls on the evidence of his character as proof against the allegations. She, furthermore, presents an alternative for explaining Sally Hemings’s children’s’ striking resemblance to Mr. Jefferson, claiming that it was Colonel Carr (a cousin) that fathered Sally Hemings’s children. (MSS 9090. Purchase and Gift. Photograph by Sanjay Suchak.)

John Hartwell Cocke diary, 23 April 1859. In this entry, John Hartwell Cocke mentions a relationship between Thomas Jefferson and a mulatto, mixed race, slave. He treats the situation as a common and accepted occurrence in Virginia. It is worth noting that the journal entry was recorded 30 years after Thomas Jefferson’s death, so the events mentioned are recollections. (MSS 640. Image by Petrina Jackson.)

John Hartwell Cocke diary, April 23, 1859. In his diary, he writes, “Mr. Jefferson’s notorious example is considered,” in reference to the practice of slave owners taking their female slaves as mistresses. He continued, “In Virginia, this damnable practice prevails as much as anywhere—probably more—as Mr. Jefferson’s example can be pleaded for its defense.” (MSS 640. Image by Petrina Jackson)

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Chad Hogan, First-Year Student

Chad Hogan, seated behind his exhibition, November 19, 2013. (Photograph by Sanjay Suchak.)

The Founding of the University of Virginia

In 1817, Thomas Jefferson assembled the first meeting of the Central College Board of Visitors. At this first meeting, Jefferson and the Board passed the new rules and procedures for the College as they pursued the opportunity to create a new University for the state of Virginia. While the University changed its name to the University of Virginia in 1819, Jefferson and the Board continued to create the foundation of the University. The University officially opened on March 7th, 1825 and featured eight different schools for its students to attend. Since its opening, the University of Virginia has used that foundation to continue its growth and attract students to Charlottesville.

This mini-exhibition shows some of the University’s earliest documents and their significance to the opening of the University. It starts with the first minute book of the University of Virginia Board of Visitors, in which Jefferson documents the Board’s first meetings, and ends with the official opening of the University in 1825.

Minute Book of the University of Virginia Board of Visitors, 1817-1828. The Minute Book of the University of Virginia Board of Visitors is a record of the first meetings of the University’s Board of Visitors from 1817-1828. The book, written mostly by Thomas Jefferson, documents the history of the University from its formation as Central College in 1817 to its early years as the University of Virginia in 1828. The book also outlines all of the rules and procedures of the Board and includes the costs of building the University. While the book has been copied to create many facsimiles for the University, Special Collections still owns the original book. (RG-1/1/1.101. University of Virginia Archives. Image by Digitization Services.)

Page two of the Minute Book of the Board of Visitors, written in Thomas Jefferson's hand, 1819.

Page two of the Minute Book of the Board of Visitors, written in Thomas Jefferson’s hand, May 5, 1817. (RG-1/1/1.101. University of Virginia Archives. Image by Digitization Services.)

Page three of the Minute Book of the Board of Visitors, written in Jefferson’s hand and signed by Thomas Jefferson, James Monroe, James Madison, and John H. Cocke, May 5, 1817. (RG-1/1/1.101. University of Virginia Archives. Image by Digitization Services.)

Maverick Plan Engraving of the University of Virginia, 1825. In this 1825 engraving, Peter Maverick outlines one of the final designs for the Academical Village before the opening of the University. The engraving includes a detailed drawing of the Rotunda as well as a hand-written description of all the pavilions. The engraving also displays the layout for student housing. (MSS 171. Image by Digitization Services)

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Corey Bothwell, First-Year Student

Guest enjoy Corey Bothwell’s exhibition, November 19, 2013. (Photograph by Petrina Jackson.)

The Civil War Soldiers from the University of Virginia

The Civil War, the all-encompassing, defining war of 19th-century America, did not spare its toll on Charlottesville. Regiments of men willing to lay down their lives for the Confederate States of America sprang up in Charlottesville and across the greater Albemarle county area to defend their stake in their hometown and in their land. The University’s own students and faculty were willing to take the risks associated with warfare in order to resist the “Wicked Government at Washington.”

This exhibition highlights a portion of these students and attempts to paint a small portrait of their short time as soldiers. The majority marched on to Harper’s Ferry to attempt to secure the arms held there. They were then ordered back to the University by the governor, as he refused their entrance into state service on account of “too much talent in one body.” Many students did end up making it into state service, and many of these University soldiers would give their lives for what they believed in.

Gildersleeve, J. R. Revised Roster of the Southern Guard and Sons of Liberty, 1911. This roster lists the names of students organized for two military companies during 1860-1861 term – “The Sons of Liberty” and “The Southern Guard”. These “University Volunteers” would join with local Charlottesville forces and other local Confederate companies and march on to Harper’s Ferry where they would attempt to seize control of it. An excerpt from the faculty journal explains how the aim of this raid is to secure advantage for Virginia “in the attitude of resistance she is about to assume towards the Wicked Government at Washington.” (MSS 38-388. Image by Digitization Services)

Photograph of a Reunion of University of Virginia Confederate Veterans by Holsinger Studio, June 11, 1912. Pictured here are 28 veterans of the 118 invited to attend a reunion of surviving Confederate Alumni from the years between 1860 and 1865. Note the confederate flag on the car in the background. (RG-30/1/1.801. University of Virginia Visual History Collection. Image by Digitization Services.)

ABCs of Special Collections: Z is for…

Posted on April 22, 2014 by

Can you believe that 52 weeks have passed, and we have come to the final installation of the ABCs of Special Collections? Yes, folks, we have come to the letter:

Z is for Zine (HN65 .R54 2013 no.12. Photograph by Liz Ott)

Z is for Morton Dauwen Zabel

Morton Dauwen Zabel was a critic who wore many hats, including those of author, associate editor and then editor of Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, following the death of his friend and editor of the publication, Harriet Monroe in 1936. Although Zabel’s papers are at the University of Chicago and Newberry Library, several items in Special Collections illustrate the wide extent of his career in letters.

Contributed by Sharon Defibaugh, Manuscripts and Archives Processor

Literary Opinion in America, Zabel’s most notable book, in two volumes (PS 3511 .A86 Z8525 1962 edition. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Literary Opinion in America, Zabel’s most notable book, in two volumes (PS 3511 .A86 Z8525 1962 edition. Gift of Linton R. Massey. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Poems for Every Mood, compiled by Harriet Monroe and Zabel (PS 3545 .I544L65 1933. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Photograph by Donna Stapley.)

Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, several issues showing the transition of Zabel from associate editor to editor (PS 3523 .I58Z99 .P66. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

His poem “The Traitors” appearing in The Times Literary Supplement on American writing (PS221 .T5 1954. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

His poem “The Traitors” as it appears in The Times Literary Supplement on American writing (PS221 .T5 1954. Clifton Waller Barrett Library of American Literature. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Z is for Zephyrus

Zephyrus is the Greek god of the west wind, the gentlest of the winds and the messenger of spring. But Zephyrus is also the name of an early music, vocal ensemble founded in 1991 by Dr. Paul Walker. The group, based in Charlottesville, is dedicated to the performance of music from the medieval, Renaissance, and Baroque eras.

Contributed by Sharon Defibaugh, Manuscripts and Archives Processor

CDs of Zephyrus performances, 2001 and 2002. (Disks 0045, 0046, and 0047. Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Zephyrus concert flyer, 2009. (Photograph by Donna Stapley)

Z is for Zine Fest

Since 2007, Richmond, Virginia has hosted a community organized Zine Fest annually to promote the creation and distribution of zines. The Richmond Zine Fest Collection is an eclectic mix of zines, pamphlets, and fliers acquired at the Zine Fest in 2013. Zines celebrate a DIY aesthetic, are often self-published, and may engage in acts of artistic, social, or political protest. The Richmond Zine Fest Collection includes zines on topics such as prison reform, anarchism, and grass roots organizing, often with a brash and cheeky sense of humor. Titles include “Self defense for activists,” “Anarchism: what it is and what it ain’t,” “Holy shit, my job is dangerous,” and “Draft dodger.”

Contributed by Elizabeth Ott, Student Curatorial Assistant

Zines from the Richmond Zine Fest. (HN65 .R54 2013 no.31-57. Photograph by Liz Ott)

Zines from the Richmond Zine Fest. (HN65 .R54 2013 no.1-30. Photograph by Liz Ott)

Z is for Louis Zukofsky

American poet Louis Zukofsky was a founding member of the Objectivist group that believed a poem should be viewed as an object and should aim for sincerity and a clear-eyed vision of the world. His mentors and sometime collaborators included Ezra Pound, William Carlos Williams, and Lorine Niedecker. While Zukofsky never attained a wide audience in his lifetime, his influence among poets was considerable, eventually informing and influencing the Black Mountain Poets and the Beats, among others.
A search of our online catalog shows over 50 entries related to Mr. Zukofsky.

Contributed by George Riser, Collections and Instruction Assistant

Shown here is a 1932 issue of An Objectivists Anthology. (PS614 .Z8 1932. Image by Petrina Jackson)

1946 copy of ANEW (PS3549 .U47A8 1946. Gift of Marvin Tatum. Image by Petrina Jackson.)

Alas, we have come to the end of our alphabetical journey. We thank you all for joining us and encourage you to watch for an invitation in the near future to take another, yet different, trip to explore the wonderful treasures of Special Collections!

Goodbye, Special Collections!: Two graduating student assistants reflect

Posted on April 17, 2014 by

This week, we are pleased to feature a guest post by two graduating students: Christina Balangue and Alex Valdez. Christina and Alex are long-time student assistants in Special Collections and have generously agreed to tell the blog a bit about their work down in the stacks. We will be so sad to see them go!

CHRISTINA: I’m a fourth year at U.Va.’s McIntire School of Commerce, concentrating in accounting. I started working at Special Collections the summer of my first year. After graduation, I will be joining PwC as a tax associate in the private company services group, preparing entity and partnership returns for clients in the greater Washington Metro area.

ALEX: I’ve been working at Special Collections since February 2012. I am also a fourth year but I am majoring in sociology and economics. My plans for after graduation remain fuzzy, but I’m hoping to get involved in social policy research and consulting.

CHRISTINA: The first thing that students realize about the stacks is it’s cold. Not plain cold—parka cold. So we often start our shifts with as much hustle and bustle as possible in order to warm up and acclimate. This means shelving new books, re-shelving pulled books, and pulling patron requests. Re-shelving books and pulling patron requests is one of the first things that students learn in the stacks. Every day, the ding of the dumbwaiter echoes in the stacks, signaling to students that items need to be retrieved from the shelves and sent to the reference desk. After the patrons find what they’re looking for (or not), the items get sent down to be re-shelved.

Christina gets ready to send a book up to the reading room in the dumb waiter.

Christina gets ready to put a patron request in the dumb waiter to be sent up to the reading room.

Brendan Fox, Stacks Supervisor, and Christina with a truckful of books and boxes to be reshelved.

CHRISTINA: New shelving is a task most of us learned on our first day on the job. It’s simple enough: take a cart of newly acquired materials and place them on the shelf accompanied by a colored flag. This allows our supervisor, Brendan, to check and ensure the book is shelved accurately. Most students, including myself, dread new shelving. While I can’t pinpoint an exact reason for my dislike, the fact remains that every time I see a cart of new books, I turn around and dash to find another task, leaving the new books for the next unsuspecting stacks student to discover.

Christina flagging a new book so that her supervisor can double-check the location.

ALEX: If we’re not putting something away or wandering through the aisles trying to find something, then we’re probably in the preservation area. Here, we carry out tasks meant to protect Special Collection treasures from the many destructive elements threatening an item’s long-term survival (and yes, we are as dramatic about this job as I make it sound). The first task we learn is how to mylar. We create specialized plastic wraps for books with fragile paper dust jackets or fading front covers to prevent the paper from being torn or the covers from fading further.

Christina prepares a mylar cover for a book with a paper dust jacket.

ALEX: The second preservation duty we take on is the construction of phase boxes. These are acid-free cardboard boxes custom-designed to fit each individual book. Their job is to hold together books that are falling apart. In our experience, this task appears particularly daunting to the newbie student employee because of its many steps. You get the hang of it eventually, though, and it has actually become my favorite Special Collections job!

Alex working on a phase box.

CHRISTINA: Special Collections also collects lots of serial publications from the New Yorker to the obscure Crime Times. We’re responsible for housing and shelving these materials. What’s my favorite part of shelving serials? Sneaking a peek at this week’s New Yorker Caption Contest winner.

Student assistant Ashlyn Walker with the special serials truck, preparing to put new issues of serial publications into the stacks.

ALEX: Whenever we come into contact with an item that requires unusual housing or has a call number that can’t be found in Virgo, we reach out to our fellow student employees for help. We also often work together to barcode items and make sure the records we have on file are correct.

Alex and Ashlyn work together to determine why the call number of a phaseboxed book isn’t showing up in U.Va.’s online catalog, Virgo

Alex and Christina barcode a truck of books that have just been through the preservation process

CHRISTINA: There are many reasons I love working at Special Collections. Being surrounded by rare materials published hundreds of years ago, and protecting these items, are just the tip of the iceberg. What I will miss the most when I graduate are the people working here. The smiles, care, and trust that I have received from both student and library employees are incomparable and this is why coming to work is always such a pleasure. Special Collections, thank you for a wonderful four years.

ALEX: I enjoy working here because I love U.Va.’s collections. From the miniature books that are no bigger than my thumb to the elephant folios that weigh a ton, I’m fascinated by them all and honored to be able to help with their preservation. Like Christina said, the people we get to work with here are also amazing. Their passion for the materials inspires me and they’re actually all just fun to be around. It’ll be a difficult goodbye, but I am grateful to have been surrounded by such wonderful company over these last few years.

Here’s the timesheet where we record the hours we have worked…it’s our favorite thing.

Thank you, Alex and Christina, for all your wonderful work over the years. We can’t say enough about how much we appreciate your dedication. And congratulations on your upcoming graduations! WAHOOWA!