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Don’t
remember where I first
heard about it, but it
seemed such a barbaric
act – cutting a
mammoth paperback book
in half in order to
read it. One
explanation, I recall,
was to allow you and a
friend to share the
book and then engage in
ongoing discussions
about it as each of you
finished the sections.
After one half was read
sans the back cover, it
was passed on and the
second butchered half,
sans the front cover
was read. How it was
decided who was to be
the first reader was
not explained. Now with
two copies of an
e-book, this half and
half reading experience
is possible without
bibliosurgery.
As an antiquarian book
collector, any book
mutilation is viewed as
unconscionable. Acts
including the
discarding of a
dustjacket, clipping
the price, writing in
the book in ink
including an
inscription on the
inside cover, unless by
the author or to a
famous person, are
strictly verboten.
(Marginalia is a gray
area, as I own some
books including one by
Rockwell Kent in which
the reader notes the
times and dates of
reading beginning on
New Year’s Eve
1934. A quaint and
curious act which I
have excused.) As for
book art, I have seen
some wonderfully
creative
transformations in
which artists, using
origami-like skills or
Joseph Cornellian
magic, have reimagined
a book into a worthy
conversation starter.
In Janet
Malcolm’s 2008
duo-biography of
Gertrude Stein and
Alice B. Toklas, Two Lives, which had originally appeared as a series of essays in The New Yorker, she
confesses to
bibliosurgery on
Gertrude Stein’s
monumental book, The Making of Americans,
which celebrates the
100th anniversary of
its publishing this
year. In her case she
performed major surgery
slicing her paperback
edition into six
pieces.
Even in six manageable
sections, the book has
not gained a wide
readership over the
years unlike another
book celebrating its
centenary this year, The Great Gatsby,
which is a mere 218
pages. Both books are
on the Atlantic’s “136 Great American Novels” list.
The Making of Americans first edition of 924 pages clocks in at 517, 207 words with 5,329 distinct words. Only 500 copies were printed in France. Three hundred were paperback bound and the remaining were sent to the U.S. and were hardback bound with a floral abstract fabric.
Today the book is available in various paperback editions, as an
e-book or as an audiobook for 52 hours of potential binge-
listening. (The estimated non-stop driving time from Oakland, CA
to NYC is 43 hours, so that the remaining nine hours could be
listened to after a well-earned good night’s sleep.)
Both a free pdf version of the book and a free audiobook are
available online.
It took almost 10 weeks for Australian artist Gisela Züchner
-Mogall’s U.S. copy of The Making of Americans to reach her in a
suburb not far from Perth. She had become curious about
Gertrude Stein after hearing a radio book review of Malcolm’s Two Lives. The artist recalled:
“They talked about a text of magisterial disorder, about forces of
re-reading, about rigorous patterns of repetition and language
becoming a pattern. Sounds like my art, I thought.”
And so began what she called her “Long Project,” handwriting
each page of the massive tome. In 154 days, off and on from
March 2008 to April 2010, she transcribed twenty pages from the
book onto large sheets of A14 paper. It took 92 sheets, with three
slightly overlapping layers of script on each page to complete the
transcription. The “Long Project” had become “Visualizing
Gertrude Stein!”
Why undertake this almost medieval scribal task sans the
illuminations?
Züchner-Mogall very clearly describes the reasons for this
exercise in obsessive, artistic penmanship.
“My decision to re-tell Gertrude Stein’s novel through the
meticulous hand-copying of the entire text serves multiple
profound purposes. First and foremost, it re-contextualizes Stein’s
work, allowing the viewer to engage with the text in a manner that
is distinct from traditional reading. By layering three scripts on a
single page, I transformed the narrative structure of Stein's
writing into a visual art form, echoing Stein’s own innovative use
of language while emphasizing the complexities of
communication.
Central to this endeavor is the exploration of repetition and
pattern, which are core themes within Stein's original text. The
three layers of handwriting create a cacophony of voices and
ideas, visually representing the multiplicity of interpretations that
exist within Stein’s novel. Rather than seeking a singular, linear
understanding, I like to invite viewers to experience the chaotic
beauty and rhythmic resonance of Stein’s language. This non
-linear presentation mirrors Stein's approach to identity and
narrative, encapsulating the essence of her work while
challenging traditional expectations of literary consumption.
Moreover, by deliberately making the text unreadable, the
materiality of language is emphasized. This act can be seen as a
commentary on the nature of art and literature; it moves beyond
mere words to provoke thought and emotion. The frustration of
not being able to read the text entices viewers to confront their
own perception and relationship with language. It serves as a
reminder that meaning can exist in forms other than the direct
interpretation of words; the visual impact of the text becomes its
own form of expression, deserving of contemplation and analysis.
Additionally, hand-copying of the text reinforces the intimate
connection between the artist and the work. This labor-intensive
process underscores the significance of the act of writing itself,
blurring the lines between creation and interpretation. It reflects
a profound respect for Stein’s original piece, while simultaneously
asserting the artist's voice and perspective. The physical act of
writing becomes a performance in its own right, one that imbues
the work with a sense of urgency and personal connection.
In essence, my re-telling of The Making of Americans is not
merely about replicating a text; it is a complex interplay of visual
art and literature that invites viewers to reconsider the act of
reading and the nature of meaning itself. By presenting the novel
in a multilayered, unreadable format, I honor Stein's innovative
spirit while pushing the boundaries of artistic representation and
viewer engagement.”
Gisela and I have been friends for almost fifteen years since I first
became aware of this masterful piece. As part of the book’s 100th
anniversary celebration, I asked her if we could display the
complete visualized book for the first time. She was very
enthusiastic about it being installed in its entirety. Earlier this
year at the Art Haus SF Gallery in San Francisco artist-gallery
owner Elizabeth Dekker and I curated the exhibition, “Visualizing
Gertrude Stein.” (Half of the work had been shown in a Stein
exhibition in 2011 at Stanford University’s Washington, DC
gallery.)
The sheets were suspended, two pages back-to-back like a book,
from a wire crisscrossing the gallery, like literary laundry swaying
in the slightest breeze. Viewers walking through the gallery or
those just passing by its large front window could experience one
of literature’s most important yet unread works without reading a
clear word of text. Stein’s words had attained the visual
abstraction of Picasso’s canvasses at last! The exhibition also
featured works by other artists inspired by the book.
The response to the exhibition was extraordinary. Viewers who
knew Stein marveled at seeing one of her books displayed this
way. Passersby curiously peeked in the window and invariably
came in, often leaving astounded by the artistic visions that had
created both the 924 page book and its contemporary visual
metamorphosis.
And now it is time for a major museum to feature “Visualizing
Gertrude Stein.” I can see it suspended in the atrium of the
Guggenheim in New York with telescopes mounted on the
circular walkway to enable viewers to try to locate single words
among the Twombly scribbles. Or displayed along a lengthy
corridor like Cristo’s saffron colored gates in Central Park inviting
all to pass under Stein’s literary passageway.
It is time to see
Gertrude Stein in a whole new way!
Just off the press:
In the latest book about Stein,
Gertrude Stein An Afterlife
by
Francesca Wade (Scribner, 2025), The Making of Americans is
prominently featured as an integral part of the development of
Stein as a writer. On page five of the Prologue, Wade confesses:
“… it’s often rumored to be ‘unreadable.’ It took me a long time to
take the plunge and open it-but as soon as I did, I was hooked by
its rhythms, eager to follow Stein’s restless sentences, as the quest
towards conclusion.” Wade is on her own remarkable quest
throughout the book incorporating newly available research to
present thoughtfully analyzed perspectives on both Stein and
Toklas for all readers, fans or novices.
Book tour link:
https://www.francescawade.com/events
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