Written by
Henrik Solberg
Filed under
Essays
From
Issue 13
I was taught that writing in books was a kind of vandalism. It took me forty years to unlearn it, and the books in my house are better for it.
A conversation across time
A margin note is a message to your future self. Open a book you read at twenty-five and you meet a stranger who underlined everything about heartbreak and nothing about money. You can argue with them now.
The margin is the only part of the book the reader gets to write.
A modest system
A straight line for what is true.
A wavy line for what is beautiful.
A question mark for what I will think about tomorrow.
Typesetters fight for generous margins, and now I understand why. They are not empty space. They are room for the reader to answer.
About the author
Henrik Solberg
Henrik spent thirty years as a typesetter in Bergen. He writes about paper, ink and the tools that outlast their owners.
