Books Again

Books Again. I began these book photos to have a record of what was on my shelves, which books, and their arrangement. I did give some thought to that, but only in the act of adding a new book. (The shelves by the way, are to the other side of my desk, attached to the wall as part of the set I built for the office in the 1970’s. Probably when I realized I might be there for some time. Ric Rose, who was doing graduate work with me at the time (he now teaches at Yale and is master of their fine print set-up in the individual college houses) reminded me recently that we built the shelves together, in the Wurster shop--and that he saved a copy of my drawing--and years later built a set of his own! I was touched, both that he'd built them, and that he'd thought to tell me. It was after I sent him a link to this site...)

Arrangement. Yes that's the word, not so much order. For it was a matter of what went next to what--the sense of it, not some scheme by category. I like that the torah books are there to the left, side by side. I included them in projects many times--or sometimes just held them in my hands, to show the students their presence in my life. Then the folksongs. Alan Lomax here, because his volumes (the first, with his father, John Lomax, American Folksongs and Ballads, in 1934, revised and expanded, in edition after edition, for years to come.) I'd always loved these songs--they were a terribly meaningful layer in my life, going back to that sixth grade winter camp in Cuyamaca--the backcountry of San Diego County, high enough for snow--which made us all feel as if we were now in a real place, with deciduous trees, and winter. The counselors there would gather us in cabin song sessions that went to my core!

Jean Ritchie's paperback tucked in there, too. The spine has faded, so you can't quite read the title--Singing Family of the Cumberlands. Affecting stories of her growing-up years in Eastern Kentucky, what that life was like--her home... 

Then Mexican Folkways--a very special book which deserves a place by itself. Frances Toor, the American woman who spent decades of her life in México, an avid recorder of Mexican crafts and tradition. Not just the objects and the music and the fiesta celebrations, but how these were bound up with an ancient and very beautiful culture--one that still existed, once one ventured beyond the breakfast counter at Sanborn's in Mexico City. A picture of an entire world--a disappearing world, at precisely the moment of the changes to come. (The book was published in 1945, at the end of the War, also the year I was born.)

Then, the Norton Anthology. Another kind of bible, but this one for poems. It was referred to time and time again--especially before the internet and cellphones made everything available in the instant. A kind of standard stop, where Frank O'Hara's The Day Lady Died was always safely in its place. I never loved the layout--all the editorial bric a brac (the dates and notes and commentary)--which obscured the purity of the poems themselves, but the scope of that volume was very beautiful, always...

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One more note on the Frances Toor. In the first México class (VS 185X Songs and Places: México, SP2013) I had the students purchase the Toor book--then available quite inexpensively from online sources. I felt a little sheepish about doing this--since I was assigning a gringa as a source to all these young people, many of whose own families came from Mexican roots. No matter--I told them it was a valuable book, one they could pass on to their grandchildren. (That got them thinking!) And to make sure they'd actually ordered it, I asked them to send me a photo when the book arrived--a self portrait with Frances Toor. Along with Octavio Paz, of course--our two sources.  Here's one of my favorite's, from the wonderful Everto Gutierrez (bigote included!)--

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