A True Winter Story from 1892

I just recently submitted my PhD thesis on the production of British school atlases in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. I thought I would mark this occasion with a story I uncovered when I was sifting through bundles of old letters exchanged between mapmakers and publishers. It’s also seasonally pertinent.

In the winter of 1892 two cousins, one of them the educational publisher Edward Augustus Arnold and the other the geographer and school teacher Hugh Oak Arnold-Foster, both men of thirty years, went ice skating on a lake near their home.

The first surprising thing to note is the fact that the lake was Virginia Water Lake and its destination was, and is, Surrey, England. It has not been cold enough for long enough to warrant ice skating on this lake for many years and we all know (from the media hype) that the global and national temperature graphs for the past few hundred years tell us that our climate has gotten , generally, warmer.  For me, this story is significant not only because it draws attention to the claims of scientists over climate change but it also suggests that climate naturally alters over time.

Virginia Water Lake, Surrey

The second important thing about this occurrence on Virginia Water Lake in Surrey was that whilst enthusiastically skating on the frozen Lake, Edward Arnold came across thinner ice and descended to what seemed like his death. Perhaps the lake wasn’t as frozen as we imagine. Maybe people’s perceptions of safety have also changed.

But my favourite part of this short story is to come. Struggling to keep his head above water, Edward’s cousin Hugh scrambled to save him from drowning between the sheets of ice but at first to no avail. Noticing a group of children playing at the side of the lake, Hugh called for their assistance, promising them a healthy reward. To his relief, Hugh was able to save Edward with the help of an anonymous boy. Both Hugh and the boy later receiving Royal Humane Society medals for their bravery in saving another’s life.

For me, this story is the equivalent of a hot and rich glass of mulled wine beside a roaring fire—a winter warmer a few days before Christmas.  

To e or not to ebook, that is the question

 Does the rise of the ebook mean the fall of the printed text? Print—in terms of its standardised form and its dissemination in books—was first introduced in Europe around 1440 when German goldsmith Johannes Gutenberg invented the first printing press in the Holy Roman Empire. Hitherto, the printed word was handwritten only, limited to unique manuscripts and accessible only to those who could read, write and afford to own the necessary materials and equipment. Gutenberg literally changed the world, some referring to the effect as the ‘Printing Revolution’,  enabling ideas in religion, science, politics, and culture to be transmitted more easily from place to place and facilitating a European population that engaged more readily and freely with the written (in this case the printed) text.  Just 80 years or so after Gutenberg’s invention, German Monk and theologian Martin Luther invoked a transformation in the way people, namely Germans, thought about the world when he translated the bible from Hebrew and Ancient Greek to German, not only framing the first coherent Germanic language translation of the Bible but at the same time shaping the German language; what became the schism of the Church; as well as the nature of German culture. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries print mattered: it mattered how it was produced, to where it was transmitted, and by whom it was consumed.

I recently visited Wartburg Castle, Germany where Martin Luther ensconced while he translated the bible, fearing for his very life 


Today we communicate largely through technological extensions of our brains and limbs, using Twitter, facebook, the laughably named Pinterest, and other social media: so does the printed, tangible book have a place?

Do you know and love the smell of old books or even new ones? That musty smell reminds you of the history and thoughts embedded in each page, sometimes compounded by marginalia from a past reader which is at times persiflage, at others pejorative, but always a find.  Do you enjoy the sense of gratification when you find a book in your local second-hand book store after one year of searching, knowing that after each previously failed attempt you resisted the temptation to click a few buttons on your laptop and have it hit your front door mat before the week ended?

An antique book store I found in Leipzig, Germany. It was beautiful inside and out. 

The question we face in all of this is how do we merge the love of the old printed books with the emergence of the technologically nouveau, that is, the ebook? There are many reasons why people might choose ebooks over printed books: they might travel, I hear that’s the main reason one should buy one. Because when you go on holiday instead of hiring a separate van or plane for that one book you usually bring and never quite manage to finish you can simply pop the ebook reader into your handbag, luggage, pocket and you have an entire library of books that you probably won’t read in a life time at your finger tips. 

No more of this...

And more of this.

Others’ contention is that ebooks reduce the amount of paper being used. I hear you. But think about the amount of water, petrol, packaging, air miles, and so on necessary to manufacture, transport, sell and deliver your little square of, ostensibly, environmentally friendly technology. I doubt the rise of the ebook will harness the end of climate change. And if we continue to recycle the books that already exist, there is little influence on the world of trees. In fact, any form of recycling is a necessity in our increasingly climatically precarious planet.

There's no ebooks in here. 

Let’s think briefly about why the world shouldn’t fully embrace the ebook as the future of the printed word. The main reason I don’t have one is because of the thought that the 78 year old Granny in my local cafe smirking at her ebook reader over a cup of tea and scone may actually be fantasising over the lurid, sex-crazed mania that is Fifty Shades of Grey. I think I’ll give the ebook’s cold, hard, digital wonder a miss, thanks. 

I'd rather see a granny dressed as a pirate.

I ask all ebookers one question:  would you be happy if hereafter books were only available as digital downloads? I wonder what authors would think. It seems the printed text is going through the same dilemma as the music world: musicians continue to complain about the impact downloads (whether illegal or not) are having on their income. My guess is that most authors and, possibly, many readers would frown at the thought of never holding a soft bound copy of their favourite novel or caressing the pages of an inspirational memoir. But why?There are a myriad of reasons. Maybe you have the same dream that I have that one day you'll own a house in which every book you've ever read lines the walls.

  

 I don't think I could achieve the same effect with this.

A more altruistic reason is the fact that if books weren’t printed the people who can’t afford to part with over one hundred pounds for the latest ebook reader (about 80% of the world’s population) would be excluded from the necessity and pleasure of reading. Even if ebook readers were available to all, as my friend indicated recently the downside is that you can’t share the book you most recently read with your friend, you can’t leave your ebook reader on a park bench for the next person to pick up and embrace the narrative that changed your perspective on love, life or money—well you could but you’d be short significant pocket every time inspiration or generosity struck.  The ebook’s individualistic exclusiveness seems to be contradictory to the progressive, community spirit of other technological and communication developments of the past decade. If the only reason for the ebook is convenience then I render it part of the same ridiculous cluster of American inventions including the drive-through bank, or the drive-through anything  (pharmacist, off-license, super market) for that matter. My purpose isn’t to discourage you to enter into the virtual ebook world, go for it and tell me about it. I wait to be convinced that ebooks better the intrepid readers’ experience of buying, reading and sharing printed books. Watch this space. 

Vintage maps and dresses

This map reminds me of a vintage dress I recently bought in Godiva, Edinburgh. 

The colours are similar and even the pattern seems strangely reminiscent of the map's.

The map is from the 1929 Junior atlas for Canadian schools by Edinburgh mapmaker Thomas Nelson & Sons. The dress, on the other hand, was bought a couple of weeks ago from Godiva, Edinburgh. But they're equally vintage. 

Communicate the old fashioned way

I love getting post. It happens so little these days: I come home to find a letter gracing my carpet or a package (not an anticipated, self-administered Amazon one) sitting on my table -- to be ripped open immediately.

So I was very happy to arrive home to this package from my grandmother today. It travelled by plane, I presume, over the Irish sea (coming from Belfast, Northern Ireland) and then probably by van to my door (in Edinburgh). There's something about physical transportation that makes the receipt of something more meaningful. 
This week I was writing a paper about the transport of school atlases in the 1900s from mapmakers in Edinburgh to pupils in India. There were significant risks to this. As well as travel taking months there was always the chance that a ship and its cargo would be lost at sea. 



This picture shows the British ship "SS Clan Macmaster" in 1923, carrying cargo, including 3,000 copies of the Oxford University Press' Indian School Atlas, from Glasgow to Calcutta. This ship never reached its destination but was reported "wrecked off the isle of man", and the 3000 copies of the OUP's Indian School Atlas ended up at the bottom of the Irish sea. 



But when school atlases like this one did successfully move from Britain to the farther reaches of the globe, the recipients surely appreciated the physical distance traversed and the obstacles avoided in the process.

The world is becoming less tangible: we all send about fifty texts per day and about the same number of emails, make around seven hundred Facebook comments (am I right?) and maybe fit in a few 'tweets' (I'm for all of these things too). But when is the last time you sat down at a desk, with a hot cup of tea, a pen, or stylus if you're that way inclined, and inscribed a message for a friend or family member that would require some small physical effort, involve material apparatus and lead to physical transport from your door to theirs? If my eighty one year old gran can do it, so can you. 


This package made my day. The moral of this story: send a REAL message to someone soon.

Own a 'McDougall'!

Here's to meaningless anecdotes...

It turns out my family may have been producing school atlases in the 1900s (the very thing I'm studying). Check out the school atlas for American schools: "McDougall’s [my name] Geographies of the Continents" (1903). McDougall’s Educational Company was a publisher in Edinburgh (where I now live). I would be somewhat exuberant if I was now writing about the atlases my great great grandfather once produced.

It gets better (in my opinion). The inside cover of this atlas tells us it was ‘the property of Lindsey County Council’. My sister is called Lyndsey (if only the ‘y’ was there!). 

This is all very fun and meaningless isn't it?

For all you McDougall enthusiasts, there’s an opportunity to purchase this atlas for under £4! Own a 'McDougall'

Barack Obama's campaign map: reverse imperial mapping?

Maps have always been capable of carrying political messages - some more than others. They have been used throughout history as tools for acquiring territory, waging war and demonstrating power. So when today I saw a similar tactic used by President Obama's re-election campaign I had to write something. It's sort of ludicrous but here's the story: according to the Obama camp, counter candidate Mitt Romney has a number of offshore accounts and, we are told, his tax rate for 2010 was significantly low. Apparently Romney payed the tax equivalent of a teacher (in the US). Let's clarify: he's a millionaire. 

The whole saga, the background story about Romney's tax evasion and the map representing his ostensible incompetence, reminds me of one of the most ubiquitous nineteenth century representations of the world. 

G.R. Parkin's Mercator map of the British Empire was used to illustrate Britain's wealth and power through a display of it's overseas territories in red (or pink depending on the shading). Parkin's and Obama's maps are clearly completely distinct in style and content, never mind the fact that Obama's map exists outside the context of nineteenth century imperialism. Yet Obama's map is also oddly similar to Parkin's map in terms of the political impetus behind its narrative. 

Obama's campaign map

Perkin's Mercator map of the British Empire (sorry about the poor image quality)

In the case of Perkin's map the more 'offshore' land-occupation, the greater the prestige of the British Empire. In the Obama map, on the other hand, the dominance of Romney's 'offshore' accounts highlights a shortage of integrity in Romney's character and undermines the power of his presidential campaign, thus attempting to propel Obama to the top once again. But the message is political in both cases. There's even some red colouring (or coloring to keep the US theme going) thrown into Obama's map, making it more loaded with political and symbolic meaning! My point is not the coherence between past and present - the present is never the 'key' to the past and these two maps have very different uses - but rather simply that maps can still be used as political tools, and Obama's campaign map happens to be a rather obvious example.

Charle's Darwin's son: inferiority complex?

With a father that was the Father of evolutionary biology it isn't surprising that Charles Darwin's children were critical of their own intellect. 


Through my work on nineteenth century British school altases I came across Darwin's oldest son Major Leonard Darwin, soldier, politician, economist and, er, eugenicist. His multiple occupations, including his role on the Council of the Royal Geographical Society, London (how I came across him), according to him, didn't quite live up to his father's and his three brothers' achievements. Major Leonard was known to openly pronounce himself to be the least intelligent of his siblings. 

He might have 'lacked' intelligence but I greatly admire the subtilty of Leonard's handlebars!

We can all sympathise with having bouts of inferiority when faced with a high achieving sibling or friend, and those of us fortunate enough to have such world-influencing parents can possibly empathise with Leonard's inferiority complex.  But let's be honest, we'd take being the son of the man whose findings changed the way people think about the world any day, whether we could live up to his genius or not; wouldn't we?