Yale Says Its Vinland Map, Once Called a Medieval Treasure, is Fake

 

Alan Yuhas, Yale Says Its Vinland Map, Once Called a Medieval Treasure, is Fake, New York Times, Sept. 30, 2021. https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/30/us/yale-vinland-map-fake.html

“The Vinland Map is a fake,” Raymond Clemens, the curator of early books and manuscripts at the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Yale, said in a statement this month. “There is no reasonable doubt here. This new analysis should put the matter to rest.”

The university said that a team of conservators and scientists, analyzing the elements in the map’s lines and text, found high levels of a titanium compound used in inks that were first produced in the 1920s. Mr. Clemens said the team hoped to publish an article in a scientific journal. Ars Technica, Smithsonian Magazine and Gizmodo, among other news outlets, reported the conclusion this month.

...

Mr. Clemens said the map would remain in Yale’s collection, calling it a “historical object in and of itself” and “a great example of a forgery that had an international impact.”

COMMENT

A map that was supposedly made in 1440 was determined to be a forgery after many years of debate over whether it was authentic.  The archivist notes that the map is still worth keeping in the library collection as an example of a clever forgery. 

 

 

Invasive Species

 Rebecca Mead. "Invasive Species"  New Yorker July 2021, pp. 20-24.

In the late nineteen-eighties, Finnish researchers, led by a zoologist named Pekka Niemela, gained unusual access to a rare manuscript in the collection of the Vatican Library, "De Arte Venandi cum Avibus," or "On the Art of Hunting with Birds." The book, attributed to Frederick II, the Holy Roman Emperor, was made between 1241 and 1244. The Vatican's manuscript, which is in two volumes, was compiled by Frederick's son Manfred more than a decade later, after the original work was lost during the Battle of Parma.  The manuscript passed though the hands of several eminent noblemen and intellectuals before entering the papal collection in 1622. [p.23]

...

Thanks to the intercession of Simo Orma, an academic at the Finnish Institute in Rome, Niemela and a zoologist were granted permission to see the manuscript, under the watchful eye of the head librarian.  The scholars concluded that the four images were of the same bird, and, by examining the remains of pigment on the ancient pages, they ascertained the original creature's coloring.  They could also make an educated guess at the cockatoo's gender: female, as indicated by reddish flecks in the iris of its eye.  [24]

COMMENT

 The presence of an Australasian cockatoo in a one-of-a-kind ancient book reveals historic trade connections.  The picture was detailed enough so that researchers could determine the color of the actual bird, something that they probably could not have learned from a digital image.   Since the Vatican Library is not public, researchers needed special permission to see the book.

Wartime for Wodehouse

Rivka Galchen. "Wartime for Wodehouse," New Yorker. 6/1/2020 p. 60-63.

The Entry for November 14th begins, "I must make a note of this day as one of the absolutely flawless ones of my life."  Even if his private journal was a kind of performance-- for himself? for future readers?-- it was a very convincing one.  (The penciled journal pages can be read in the rare-books room of the British Library.)

COMMENT

    P.G. Wodehouse spent forty-eight weeks in a German internment camp in 1940 and 1941.  While he was there he kept a relentlessly cheerful diary which is he British Library rare books room. 

• P.G. Wodehouse Archive at the British Library: https://blogs.bl.uk/english-and-drama/2016/12/pg-wodehouse-archive-at-the-british-library-.html

Fresh Litter

"Fresh Litter," (Talk of the Town), New Yorker, December 23, 2019, pp. 31-32.

The source material "Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats," is a collection of poems that T.S. Eliot wrote for his godchildren. "The poems were written in the nonsense tradition," Carolyn Vega, the curator for the Berg Collection, at the New York Public Library, explained recently.  Sara Beth Joren, publicist for the library chimed in: "And that's why when people hate on 'Cats' -- like "Oh there's no plot.' It's just like, 'Yeah, there wasn't supposed to be'. And anyway, there is a plot. There's a cat trying to get to the Heaviside Layer.  That's a plot.
     The two women were waiting for Francesca Hayward, one of the stars of the "Cats" movie.  Hayward, a principal dancer in the Royal Ballet, plays Victoria, a graceful white cat -- her first film role.  Vega was ready to give Hayward a quick Eliot lesson; she had brought out a first edition of "Old Possum" and some photographs of the poet. 

COMMENT

      An actor in need of information about her role consults a librarian.  Sure, there is plenty about T.S. Eliot on the Internet, but it could be quite a slog to discover how we got from Eliot the poet to the musical "Cats."  The librarian helps zero in on the nonsensical origins of what is, after all, a distinctly nonsensical musical.   Hayward reacts appropriately to the first edition, experiencing that spooky sense of history that is connected to physical artifacts.

The Library Book

Susan Orlean, The Library Book, 2018.

The story of the Los Angeles Public Library and the 1986 fire required years of research and scores of interviews with current and past library staff, deep dives into the Fire Department’s archives and the City of Los Angeles’s court records, and a lot of digging through the musty boxes of material stashed in the Library’s Rare Books Room. There I found a trove of information, including newspaper clippings about the library from the twenties; book lists from the thirties; paraphernalia from every decade; and countless, fascinating odds and ends left behind by the hundreds of librarians who passed through Central Library at some point in their careers. This material was essential to the writing of this book.  I also found a great deal of valuable material in the many books and published papers about California and library history.  [p. 315].

COMMENT

The notes on the author's research process mention those d/musty boxes again.  This time they contain ephemera of a kind that might strike some people as especially useless.   Who would consider old library book lists worth keeping? And yet here they are informing a bestseller. Interviews, government information and published books and articles are also cited as part of the research strategy.   The resulting book is the story of a community told through the lens of its public library, quite literally putting the library at the center of community and community resilience. 

Shelf Life

Meryl Gordon, "Shelf Life: The Story of One of the Rarest Books in the World." New York Times Book Review, May 5, 2019, p.18.

     The Gutenberg Bible, purchased n 1950, was the jewel of her collection which she left to St. John's Seminary upon her death in 1958.
     In her bequest, she insisted the nothing be sold for 25 years, in the belief that future librarians should have flexibility but would keep the collection intact.  It was a tragic mistake.  The Los Angeles Archdiocese, unable to resist monetizing the valuable assets, put the entire Doheny book collection on sale in 1987.  The Maruzen Co. Ltd of Tokyo snapped up the Gutenberg for $4.4 million.  It is now the property of Keio University, where it has been digitized and locked away from public view. 

 COMMENT

    The quote comes from a book review about a biography of a rare Gutenberg Bible[1]. The collector, as in other library stories, [2] imagines that her rare book collection has enough value to be guarded intact by librarians.  In fact, the librarians sell the collection for money.

     What's most interesting to me is the comment that the digitized book is "locked away."  Librarians like to imagine that digitization makes rare and valuable things more available, not less available.  But an online picture of a Gutenberg Bible is not really the same thing as a Gutenberg Bible even though the text is the same. The spooky sense of history is lost in the format transition.

[1] Margaret Leslie Davis, The Lost Gutenberg: The Astounding Story of One Book's Five-Hundred-Year Odyssey, Tarcher Perigee, 2019. 
[2] Can't. Just. Stop. 

400-Year-Old Stolen Bible is Recovered

"400-Year-Old Stolen Bible is Recovered," (Odd News), Salt Lake Tribune, April 26, 2019, p. A2.

A 17th Century Geneva Bible, one of the hundreds of rare books authorities said were stolen from a Pittsburgh library as part of a 20-year-long theft scheme, is back home... It was among more than 300 rare books, maps, plate books, atlases and more that were discovered missing from the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh last year. 

  COMMENT

     This is from the "Odd News" section culled from some unidentified sources outside of the Salt Lake Tribune newsroom.  There is no information about the 20-year-long theft scheme or why it took so long for librarians to discover that the items were missing or whether any of the other stolen books were ever found. 

     Is it odd that someone stole rare books from the library?[1]  That it took 20 years to catch the perpetrator? Or odd that one of the books was eventually found?  In fact, library rare book rooms seem to hold a special allure for thieves.  Perhaps the fact that people are allowed to handle rare and valuable objects in the "book museum" makes it seem like nobody is minding the store. 

[1] Other blog posts about theft.

     

He Didn't Just Like Her Profile Photo. He Understood It.

Tammy La Gorce, "He didn't Just Like Her Profile Photo. He Understood It," New York Times, April 14, 2019, ST11.

     In posting the Tifa shot, she had unwittingly sent up a smoke signal to a kindred spirit: "I wanted to show that I was actually a real-live nerd," said Ms. Nastasi, who is the associate manager of book conservation at the Thomas J. Watson Library at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
...
    Ms Nastasi, by contrast, was not sure what she wanted her professional life to look like, but she knew it would have to satisfy her appetite for frequent and meaningful change. "I like to try new things and I like to go big," she said.  That explains her shift from AmeriCorps to her stint as an event manger for Saucy by Nature, a catering company in Brooklyn, and eventually to the Thomas J. Watson Library.  There she acts as a sort of air traffic controller for rare and damaged books, ensuring they are properly tagged an labeled after being repaired and recirculated.

COMMENT

   This librarian's OKCupid profile had a photo of her in the costume of an obscure anime character.  When a man complimented her cosplay and not the sexiness of her costume, reader, she married him.

  The  librarian's occupation is interesting enough to that the writer that it is described twice in the profile.  It is taken as representing her commitment to social justice,  her appetite for meaningful change and her cultural involvement -- in  short,  evidence of her desirability as a partner for a smart, nerdy man.

"Fandom," incidentally has been identified as a trend by the Center for the Future of Libraries.

A Night at the Museum

Jane Halpern, " A Night at the Museum: How a French Cat Burglar Pulled Off he Biggest Art Heist in Decades," New Yorker, Jan 14, 2019, p. 30-39.

At the age of ten, Tomic pulled off his first heist. He broke into a library in Mostar, climbing through a window that was nearly ten feet above street level.  He stole two books, each of which appeared to be several hundred years old.  (The older brother of a friend learned of the theft and returned Tomic's plunder.) Tomic said of his early criminal adventures, "It was intuitive. Nobody ever taught me anything." 

COMMENT

     Not one, but two stories about criminal careers that began at the library!  (see: Lee Israel).  Perhaps the temptation is that library patrons are invited to touch and use objects that are rare and valuable.  They seem to belong to nobody.

    Many years ago a graduate student friend admitted to me that he had stolen library books that were relevant to his PhD thesis.  The books were so specialized he could not imagine another person ever wanting to borrow them.   Sometimes you encounter stories of people who, like the friend's older brother, develop guilt over unreturned library books.  Sometimes people return stolen books  many years later, occasionally together with an appropriate fine.

    One college librarian I worked with used to buy books on sexual health and deliberately fail to install protective magnetic strips that would set off the anti-theft gates.  He thought there was a need to put such books in the hands of students too embarrassed to check them out.  When the books inevitably disappeared he'd simply replace them, deliberately stocking the library shelves with books meant to be stolen.

Hidden Traces

Sam Knight, "Hidden Traces: How Historical Manuscripts are Giving Up Their Secrets" (Annals of Science), New Yorker,  November 26, 2018, pp. 38-45.

Melloni is the director of the John XXIII Foundation for Religious Sciences, an institute in Bologna dedicated to the history of the Church.  He had heard of the Marco Polo Bible, but he was unaware of its poor condition until a colleague spotted the crumbling book at an exhibition at the library in 2008, and pitched a project to restore it a find out more about its past.  "It was like a sort of Cinderella among the beautiful sisters," Melloni said.  Like other people accustomed to handling old texts or precious historical objects, Melloni has a special regard for what Walter Benjamin called their aura; "a strange weave of space and time" that allows for an intimation of the world in which they  were made.  "You have in your hand the manuscript,: Melloni said, "But also the stories that the manuscript is carrying.

....

Collins cautioned that historical proteomic techniques are still in their infancy.  "We still need to learn what these things mean," he said. But when you realize that the surface of any old object might be bearing newly discernible biological information -- that you are holding a manuscript and you are also holding the stories that the manuscript is carrying-- it makes you look again at the world's libraries and archives, and wonder what secrets they contain.  

Comment

     Books as physical objects are of the subject of  this article which describes scientific investigation of  the traces of protein left behind by people handling books and manuscripts.  Rather than using textual information, the researchers are looking for chemical clues about past authors and readers.  In the case of the Marco Polo bible, there were questions of whether the artifact was really the right age?  Did it really travel to China? "A manuscript's text is only part of it's story," Knight writes

     In order to test books, proteomic researchers need to get permission from librarians and archivists.  In some cases they use "destructive testing" which requires taking a small sample, a definite no-no for rare and valuable books.  Some libraries like the Bodleian Library and British Library have refused to permit even nondestructive testing which takes molecular samples.

      The author of the article realizes that his own notebook will forever carry traces of the fish he ate for lunch, but so what? Is that information important enough to be worth saving the physical object?  Probably not for the notebook, but for other paper objects proteomics can determine provenance or prove that certain conditions (like bubonic plague) were epidemic.  The information in libraries is not limited to what is recorded in text.

   

   

Inside the List

Tina Jordan, "Inside the List," New York Times Book Review, Oct. 7, 2018, p. 24.

     In the summer of 1994, not long after finishing her dissertation, [1] Deborah Harkness stumbled on a long-lost manuscript in the stacks of Oxford's centuries-old Bodleian Library. "It once belonged to Queen Elizabeth I's astrologer, the mathematician and alchemist John Dee [2]. It was called 'The Book of Soyga,' and he prized it above all of his other texts. I found it, hiding in plain sight, among the Bodley manuscripts," [3] she says. Harkness -- now a historian of science and medicine at the University of California -- wove the experience into her best-selling All Souls trilogy, a rich, sprawling historical fantasy about a vampire scientist, a history professor who discovers she's a witch and an enchanted manuscript a the Bodleian. 

 COMMENT

     On Oct. 7, 2018 Harkness' novel Time's Convert was #3 on the New York Times Print/Hardcover Fiction Bestseller List. Her inspiration was a manuscript that people knew about, but up until 1994 nobody knew of any extant copy.  I can only imagine the thrill!  Finding and and holding that piece of history inspired the invention of an  entire fictional world populated by supernatural characters. 

    The most exciting thing I ever found in the stacks was a set of uncatalogued Alta Avalanche Studies recording early experiments that led to modern avalanche control techniques.  It's not nearly as exciting as finding The Book of Soyga, but I still remember the astonishment and the prickle of recognition when I realized that I was holding piece of history. I have never felt anything like that spooky sense of touching history looking at a digital reproduction. I believe that a digitized copy of The Book of Soyga might have had equal utility for writing a PhD thesis, but I doubt it would have ever inspired a series of bestselling novels. 

[1] Deborah E. Harkness, “The Scientific Reformation: John Dee and the Restitution of Nature” (Unpublished PhD Thesis, University of California Davis, 1994).
[2] Deborah E. Harkness. John Dee's Conversations with Angels: Cabala, Alchemy, and the End of Nature. Cambridge University Press, 1999.
[3] The Bodley Manuscripts are a miscellaneous collection of manuscripts formed at Oxford University in 1761.

Losing the Fiance but Winning the Honeymoon

Nell Stevens, “Losing the Fiance but Winning the Honeymoon,” New York Times August 5, 2018, p. ST5.

In the preceding months, I had been in the fateful state of being both bored and in love, completing my Ph.D. in London while the man I was going to marry worked in Boston. In the rare-books reading room at the British Library (where I had gone to write), I spent a lot of time entering online contests filling out form after form in the hope of winning vacations, designer clothes and theater tickets.

COMMENT 

    The library is a refuge for writers, but technology is a source of distraction and a ready excuse for procrastination.  Print books and frustratingly slow (or non-existent) Internet offer a handy solution to distractibility. Some people even advocate solving the problem by reverting to using a typewriter.  The romance, needless to say, was just an excuse to avoid writing.  It didn't work out. 

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

J.K. Rawlings. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Bloomsbury, 1997.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel’s name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal?  The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book.  He wasn’t in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section.  He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn’t somewhere in there.  Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books and he knew he’d never get one.  These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

‘What are you looking for, boy?’

‘Nothing,’ said Harry.

Madam Pince, the librarian brandished a feather duster at him.

‘You’d better get out, then.  Go on— out!’

Harry left the library.  He, Ron and Hermione had already agreed they’d better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she’d be able to tell them, but they couldn’t risk Snape hearing what they were up to.  [p 145-146]

COMMENT 

     Madam Pince, the librarian, is neither friendly nor helpful.  She is the kind of librarian who is protective of books.  Her possessiveness reminds me a bit of an archivist I once encountered who kept his arms literally wrapped around a box of documents I wanted to use while lecturing me on how to treat the contents with respect. Despite her scariness (she is a "thin, irritable woman who looks like an underfed vulture,"), Madam Pince is a good librarian, though. She has assembled a truly excellent collection of magical information, a comprehensive treasure-trove that always seem to have whatever obscure information Harry and his friends need to find.

     As far as I recall, Madam Pince never teaches any kind of magical information literacy session. Hogwarts students are more or less on their own, though one in a while a professor allows them to look into the Restricted Section. The research styles of the three students  \match their characters.  Hermione is methodical with confidence in the cataloging system; Ron is haphazard; Harry is sure that the information has been hidden on purpose. The three fictional students are doing something that is often turns up in non-fiction narratives. They are seeking knowledge that they believe adults around them would not approve. It's a classic transition out of the children's section into the adult stacks.