Well-Read Life™

Giving thanks—because it matters

As holiday orders start to come in, our team members are getting busy, and that makes me thankful. And I’m thankful for another reason: I’m grateful that what we do matters to you.

I’m thankful that you expect high quality from our service and our products, and that you don’t mind telling us if ever we disappoint. In our hyper-speed, love-it-today-toss-it-tomorrow consumable world, it may not matter as much that the leather bag be properly lined, or the pages of the book be sewn and not glued, or the paper in the notebook be a better quality.

But it matters to us, because it’s how we show respect for our customers. It matters because we value what you do. And we believe that the world needs less stuff, but more stuff that matters.

So on this Thanksgiving weekend, my thanks to you—not just for being a customer, but for being a customer who comes with the bar raised high.

With gratitude,

Steve

Lincoln at Gettysburg: 150 years later, what did he say…really?

These are the times when I delight in being a book publisher. In our small cadre of
books are some mighty topics, one being Lincoln’s five versions of the
Gettysburg Address that he wrote by hand. I had no idea of the remarkable
stories they contain until we began to put together our book, Long Remembered: Lincoln and His Five Versions of the Gettysburg Address. 

 This November 19^th marks the 150^th anniversary of Lincoln’s delivery of his address at Gettysburg. The President was instructed by one of the event planners to come to Gettysburg and deliver “a few appropriate remarks,” and that was what he did. How is it, then, that such a succinct speech—about 272 words—has held such mystery for so long?

 And why does no one know for sure exactly what Lincoln said?

Shorthand and telegraph lines

One likely reason is because of how he said it. Those of us who saw the film Lincoln know that our sixteenth president had a reedy, high-pitched voice. Lincoln was hardly given to a stentorian delivery that would thunder across the field at Gettysburg. It would be difficult for reporters to catch every word, especially since they would have been caught off guard by the brevity of the remarks.

Another reason, according to Doug Wilson, the Lincoln historian who wrote the lead narrative  for Long Remembered, was that most reporters at the time took notes but not shorthand. What often resulted were approximations of what was said.

Doug gives this example of how the Chicago Tribune relayed the opening of Lincoln’s address:

 Four score and seven years ago, our fathers established upon this continent a Government subscribed in liberty and dedicated to the fundamental principle that all mankind are created equal by a good God, and now we are engaged in a great contest.

Enter Joseph I. Gilbert of the Associated Press, the hero that most of us have never heard of, to mostly save the day. As Doug relays, Gilbert was allowed to transcribe the text from the manuscript that Lincoln read from. These were the words that raced across telegraph lines throughout the North.

And that, more than once, encountered ERROR IN TRANSMISSION as they did.

Fortunately, it’s been possible to compare the A.P. text with the transcription by a reporter who was well-versed in shorthand. Scholars have been able to, as Doug writes, “arrive at a very close approximation of the words Lincoln uttered from the platform.”

Mystery vs. myth

What remains even more of a mystery is just what manuscript Lincoln read from. It’s a question that Doug and the other scholars in Long Remembered still puzzle over, and a story well worth reading.

But even if that mystery is solved, we still can’t be certain that Lincoln uttered every word that he wrote. After all, the technology of audio recording was decades away. The best oratory undergoes
eleventh-hour revisions as the remarks are being delivered. John F. Kennedy never made a mark on the pages he read from for his inaugural address, but he made repeated edits (included to his iconic “ask not” sentence) as he delivered it.

Better that we embrace these mysteries of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, though, than succumb to its myths. One of the most pernicious is that Lincoln crafted this masterpiece of near-sacred text with a few hasty scribbles, on an envelope, in the train that took him to Gettysburg.

Anyone who has ever toiled over a piece of writing knows better. Lincoln’s words may have been few, but they were written deliberately. Those sentences that fill one wall of the Lincoln Memorial were written not for the moment, and not for the day, but for the ages, by a man who cared deeply about words. Just listen as the actor Sam Waterston recites them:  

And now to you...

If you’ve visited the Lincoln Memorial or Gettysburg, how did you feel when you encountered Lincoln’s “few appropriate remarks”? I’d love to hear. Just click on the Comments below with your submission. (If you’re reading this as an email, click here and you'll connect to Comments).

The Paperless and the Paperfull

My business friend, a successful thirty-something tech entrepreneur, tells me, “I’ve gone paperless.”  

We’re chatting on a sun-drenched terrace in Austin, during a mid-morning break at a tech conference. He says this while quickly sending an email with the title of a book I had just recommended. I ask him, dubious that anyone would actually want to be without paper, “Don’t you like to use paper for some things?”

“Why clutter myself and our office with paper when it’s more efficient to go digital?” he says.

I stand opposite him grasping, in my left hand, my Levenger Pocket Briefcase, a leather wallet that holds 3x5 cards, and in my right hand, a rollerball pen. My iPhone is in my pocket, but I pull out one of  my 3x5 cards (thick paper, smooth, white, personalized), lift it from its leather case, write a website address and hand it to him.

“Is this your business card?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s useful for writing a note,” I say.

“Huh,” he says, and moves on to another friend.

 Being a paper guy at a tech conference is like being a horse breeder at a car show.

 The novelty of the old

My guess is he quickly digitized the information and trashed the card. I’m okay with that. I enjoy writing on my big business cards and giving something physical to people. Part of my enjoyment comes from the fact that handing someone a nice card with handwriting on it is, today, something of a novelty. And it’s not just the paper; it’s that we’re connecting with someone face to face, hand to hand.

Not that I avoid the digital life.

I’m writing this blog on my Apple laptop and saving it in the cloud.

And this morning, on my mini iPad, I was happily toggling between the first book I’m reading (very slowly) in Spanish,  El Ruido de las Cosas al Caer, and its English translation, The Sound of Things Falling. While reading in this way, my iPhone rests beside me. I speak into it my gringo Spanish, which I’m enormously gratified is good enough for Google Translate to recognize and quickly deliver to me its English translation.

It seems, however, that people are splitting into camps over paper: one camp can’t wait to be rid of paper and another camp, of which I’m clearly a charter member, is coming to cherish paper more than ever.

Let’s call them the Paperless and the Paperfull.

The Paperless are waging a war of words and spin to besmirch the reputation of paper.

Paper is inefficient, they say. Paper is litter and clutter. Paper pollutes the planet: “Please consider the environment before printing out this email.”

That paper beat out the Internet as one of the top 10 innovations since cave days is immaterial (paper, #6, Internet, #9).That the Japanese culture has venerated paper to the point of considering it divine matters not. That paper making gives landowners an economic incentive to reforest their lands in a sustainable manner is off the radar.

For the Paperless, paper is their Uncle Sid they wish wouldn’t come to dinner.

The Paperfull, on the other hand, have an awakened appreciation for what a marvelous technology paper is. I say “awakened” because the twenty-first century, with its explosion of digital devices, has ironically kindled a renewed appreciation for this second-century wonder.

Some Paperfulls love taking notes by hand on paper, finding that it helps them think and better remember.

Other Paperfulls like to sketch out their new ideas on big sheets of paper, reporting something liberating about an expanse of a snowy white sheet. They like paper that is theirs and theirs alone, paper because it isn’t public, but personal.

Some Paperfulls (like me) love reading printed books of the perfect size, like Dave Eggers’s 2012 Hologram for the King, so beautifully designed and a tactile pleasure to hold, or Sigurd Olson’s 1976 Reflections from the North Country, with its sepia-colored typeface and softly deckled pages.

Other Paperfulls keep handwritten journals. Some prefer paper calendars.

 “Hail mail”

Some Paperfulls love sending handwritten notes, reporting them a welcome break from their screens. It is the solace that paper brings, the reassuring connection to something made of organic material, the satisfaction of writing a postal address and pressing on a stamp.

Whereas the Paperless crowd likes to call it “snail mail,” why not call it “hail mail” instead? Like Hail Mary and Hail to the Chief, Hail Mail would play tribute to the strength of postal mail rather than its weakness. Faster doesn’t always mean better. Who prefers a fast kiss to a slow one? (Depending, of course.)

Although I’m annoyed at the Paperless crowd for bad-mouthing paper, I defend them, too. The Paperless are the kinds of people who have always moved civilization forward, the people bold enough to strike out for new territories.  

But we Paperfulls are also important. We try to remind our friends not to be too hasty in throwing out the old just because something new and shiny comes along.

I realize twist-off wine caps are acceptable now, but don’t you still love the pop of a real cork? Battery candles make sense on a breezy patio and around children, but who wants to give up a real candlelit dinner for two? And yes, I know my 2006 stick-shift Porsche can’t beat the new automatics, but it sure feels good to shift into third accelerating around a bend in the road.

For me, a veritable Ambassador of the Paperfull, I’m for celebrating both the old and the new delights paper can bring—while also appreciating how my Paperless friends are teaching me new ways of reading and doing.

So how about you, dear reader: do you pitch your tent with the Paperless or the Paperfull? Send me a message and let me know. Just click on the Comments link below with your submission. (If you’re reading this as an email, click here and you'll connect to Comments.)

 

A Reader’s ThinkAbout, or: What’s your verb?

Our good friend Andrea Syverson has just come out with her second engaging book for businesses that want to boost their brands, called ThinkAbout. In it she encourages companies to think about how different verbs can help them better define who they are.

Andrea is also an avid reader whom I featured in my first book, The Little Guide to Your Well-Read Life. Levenger Press Editor Mim Harrison talked with Andrea about how thinking in verbs can help us get deeper into books.

                                                                    -                 Steve

Levenger Press: We readers often describe ourselves through adjectives---serious, avid,
incurable, inveterate. Are we missing something by not being verbivores?

Andrea Syverson: I love the idea of readers as verbivores! Indeed, those adjectives capture the voracious personalities of readers, but verbs really illuminate what readers feel when they immerse themselves into their books. Depending on the stack of books I am enveloped in at any one time, I can be provoked, encouraged, comforted, confirmed, educated and/or nurtured by what I am reading. I love the diversity of experiences between books, and it’s why I keep that “library of candidates” Steve talks about around me at all times. As a verbivore, my reading appetite is constantly changing, which I imagine is true for many avid readers (those adjectives again!).

LP: Do active or passive verbs come to mind when you think about reading?

Andrea: Reading is so very active. In my mind, the only passive thing about it is the prone position you are often in as you engage with the book. William Styron wrote, “A great book should leave you with many experiences and slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading.” Isn’t that just so true? I also find myself communicating with the writer as I underline phrases in the margins, or ink in exclamation points, or ponder with question marks.When we read actively,we befriend the writer.

LP: What are your top five picks for reading verbs?

When I thinkabout all the types of books that I enjoy—literary fiction, memoir, business, creativity and spirituality—my verbs would include inspire, imagine, grow, challenge and luxuriate. I read to learn and to dream, but I also read to savor. I love diving deeply into new worlds and participating in new experiences that transcend the everyday. But reading actively can also mean slowing down the reading process, which I do at the end of many books because I simply do not want them to end. It’s a lot like a great travel experience—we may be, as Styron says, slightly exhausted at the conclusion of a book, but we’re also thrilled to have partaken in such a rich experience.

LP: Louis L’Amour has that famous quote, “Read, read, read. Do, do, do.” How do you connect the two?

Andrea: Reading prompts me. As I read about an issue and become educated, I am compelled to turn that knowledge into action. Sometimes that action is simply sharing what I’ve read with others in conversations; other times it’s much more assertive, like becoming personally involved in creating change or donating to a particular charity. Books change us, motivate us, compel us. I am so grateful to
authors who open my heart.

LP: What book has had that kind of effect on you?

Andrea: Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn’s book, Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide, opened my eyes and heart to the devastating trauma of human trafficking. Their book, in turn, started a global movement to prompt change. Reading is both educational and  inspirational, but it can also be an impetus for good.

LP: A recent study found a link between a person’s capacity to empathize and reading literary fiction. Does this surprise you?

Andrea: “Empathize” is another great reading verb. We only get one set of personal experiences in this life, so we cannot possibly understand all that others may go through in the course of their lives. Reading expands our world of understanding both joys and sorrows we may not have experienced ourselves. I have often learned as much from characters in beautifully written literary fiction as I have through memoir and nonfiction.

LP: What characters were your teachers?

Andrea: There are so many literary fiction characters that have been my teachers…both teaching me how not to be, and inspiring me how to be. Characters like the ones Elizabeth Strout created in Olive
Kitteridge, or Lisa See wrote about in Shanghai Girls. Jane Hamilton and Oscar Hijuelos are two other writers who have given me the gift of empathy. It’s as if they hold a mirror up to our souls through their characters and draw us into their lives—even if their worlds are far from our own. I believe writers can sometimes get closer to emotional truths in this genre. And, as a reader, I may be able to absorb these truths in story form more profoundly, too. Perhaps this is like a reader’s version of Daniel Goleman’s EQ, or Emotional Intelligence—RQ, for Reading Intelligence. Learning life lessons through the literary characters we read about helps our own development.

                                                                                                -         Andrea

And so to you, dear reader: something to ThinkAbout…and SmileAbout. What’s your reading verb? I’d love to hear. Just click on the Comments link below with your submission. (If you’re reading this as an email, click here and you'll connect to Comments).