This book was equally haunting and touching. For me, the best part of visiting elderly relatives was staying up late after everyone else had gone to sleep and taking down the sturdy shoe boxes from the closet to look at old snapshots from the 1940s through the 1960s. The great thing about photographs of this time is that if the film was developed, a print of each exposure almost certainly existed. So many prints in this book were what my Grandmother would call "mistakes"- but because most modern consumers use digital cameras, these types of images are dated and beautiful in an entirely different way. I'm really glad they exist.
Today, the majority of photographs taken are dismissed to the corners of our hard drives instead of closets, and are rarely viewed outside of the internet. Even then, the attention span of the viewer is short and selfish- if it isn't of our own faces, most people don't truly want to see it. These photographs exist as unique objects and memorials to the people and places they are of. They were cherished- because they were fewer.
What I loved about this book was that this time period was before the age of excessive self portraits and excessive posing- you couldn't look at the image you just took until much later, so this sort of indulgence was far less common. It seems people took photographs of what moved them, what they personally wanted to remember, as an image was more about a memory than the establishment of a personal brand.
Don't get me wrong, I use Instagram. It has a time and a place, but I don't think anyone could disagree that it doesn't come close to the world created by George Eastman and the Kodak Company.