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Taking Things Seriously: 75 Objects with Unexpected Significance
'Taking Things Seriously' is a wonder cabinet of seventy-five unlikely thingamajigs that have been invested with significance and transformed into totems, talismans, charms, relics, and scraps of movie posters scavenged from the streets of New York by Low Life author Luc Sante; the World War I helmet that inoculated social critic Thomas Frank against jingoism; the trash-picked, robot-shaped hairdo machine described by its owner as a chick magnet; the bagel burned by actor Christopher Walken while moonlighting as a short-order cook. The owners of these objects convey their excitement in short, often poignant essays that invite readers to participate in the enjoyable act of interpreting things.
174 pages, Paperback
First published August 23, 2007
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August 17, 2017I love trying to figure out the stories behind objects.
I once saw a nice pair of nice black women's heels sitting in a neat pair on the side of the road, by a fenced-in soccer field. About a week later I saw the same pair of heels, still in a neat pair, but on the other side of the fence. Now, the entrance was all the way on the other side of the field, so someone had to have picked them up, walked all the way around the field, placed them down on the other side, and then presumably walked all the way back out again. I've wondered why ever since.
I once spent an evening drinking with a man carrying a plastic banana with two sets of bite marks in it. He had just quit his job at an Army & Navy store in a bit of a rough neighbourhood (Army & Navy being a Canadian department store chain). It was a depressing and miserable job that he was happy to be rid of. The banana had been part of an in-store display. It was the second set of bite marks that perplexed him. He could imagine someone mistaking it for a real banana and taking a bite out of the side, although even then it seemed strange that they wouldn't attempt to peel it first. However, you'd think the biter would have then realized their mistake and cast the banana aside. Yet, they went in for a second bite. It felt like a perfect encapsulation of the job so he kept it as a souvenir.
This book is a collection of objects and stories much like these. It has joined the upper echelon of my fun coffee table books, along with my stack of teen magazines from 1964 and my book of taxidermy art.
I once saw a nice pair of nice black women's heels sitting in a neat pair on the side of the road, by a fenced-in soccer field. About a week later I saw the same pair of heels, still in a neat pair, but on the other side of the fence. Now, the entrance was all the way on the other side of the field, so someone had to have picked them up, walked all the way around the field, placed them down on the other side, and then presumably walked all the way back out again. I've wondered why ever since.
I once spent an evening drinking with a man carrying a plastic banana with two sets of bite marks in it. He had just quit his job at an Army & Navy store in a bit of a rough neighbourhood (Army & Navy being a Canadian department store chain). It was a depressing and miserable job that he was happy to be rid of. The banana had been part of an in-store display. It was the second set of bite marks that perplexed him. He could imagine someone mistaking it for a real banana and taking a bite out of the side, although even then it seemed strange that they wouldn't attempt to peel it first. However, you'd think the biter would have then realized their mistake and cast the banana aside. Yet, they went in for a second bite. It felt like a perfect encapsulation of the job so he kept it as a souvenir.
This book is a collection of objects and stories much like these. It has joined the upper echelon of my fun coffee table books, along with my stack of teen magazines from 1964 and my book of taxidermy art.
December 29, 2020
I got this book because Joshua Glenn used to edit, as he calls it in his contributor note, "the zine and journal Hermenaut." (p. 171). What is the difference between a zine and a journal? So many things I never understood! But whatever it was, Hermenaut was wonderful - although I came across it late in its run, c. 1999, I still treasure the three issues I have - never a subscriber, I bought mine at the local independent book store (yeah, long gone now). It was pop culture hip and philosophical and fun. What replaces it? N+1 - the mere thought of that "'zine" fills me with terror!
And so when I discovered, late, as always, that Joshua Glenn (with graphic designer Carol Hayes) published a book about actual stuff - no hermeneutics here - just stuff - so I got a copy right away, some 13 years after it was published.
And yet, when it showed up in the mail, I balked. Glenn's introductory essay was not as light-hearted as the old Hermenaut was - but then I suppose I'm not either.
"Elsewhere on the signification spectrum is another type of meaningful object that we also (mostly) eschewed: the aestheticized object, whether a world of fine, "bad" or outsider art, or a scavenged object repurposed as a Dada-esque readymade." (p. (11)).
"The literary theorist Miguel Tamen notes that not a few people believe that "certain properties of certain objects render those objects especially apt to mean." Must this always be an unenlightened, superstition notion? (Speaking of notions, the Fortean anthropologist Lyall Watson has revived the Victorian term notional to describe..." (p. 15).
I'm at the age where I have accepted the fact that my total ignorance of Fortean anthropology is going to remain intact to the grave. But slinking past Miguel Tamen and his "certain properties of certain objects" I soldiered on. And Glenn's introduction grew on me - as in the Hermenaut days, I trust him, his worried thoughtfulness, his erudition, his self-consciousness.
Such thoughts, such objects (or the paying-attention to such objects) are almost (?) decadent now, almost Ancien Régime It makes me wistful now, both the things and why we treasure the things. Tapping on our phones and politics have replaced stuff and thinking about stuff. So now on to the stuff:
Deb Wood Ceramic Hands (pp. 28-29): I was happy to see these two ceramic hands, cupped together, a spray of grape leaves and grapes at the wrist - my grandma had one of these in her house (d. 1973). Wood's delight with these things was delightful to read, but this made me feel very old. She found this thing in the trash, and treasures it as a bit of bizarre vaguely religious antique iconography. The reason I feel so old is that these cupped hands were all over the place when I was a kid - again, my grandma had one, and I'd say most Christian ladies over the age of 60 c. 1950-1970 had them. They are ubiquitous - an eBay search of "cupped hands" got 50 hits, with about 40 of them being duplicates (in various colors and materials) of Wood's example.
Glad she finds so much to admire, but she belabors the profane aspect of it: "I'm probably going to hell for this" is the title of her submission. Probably not, I'd guess. In fact the grapes and leaves motif leads me to wonder if this object wasn't vaguely Graeco-Roman pagan to begin with. The hands of Demeter? But it's fun to pretend to be naughty, especially given there are probably few Christian readers of this book who would protest her stance. Hipster secular humanists, mostly, probably. Or the non-denominationally baffled. Nobody's going to even ironic hell over this thing. But I was happy to see it here and glad Deb Wood likes it.
Thomas Frank, World War I French Helmet (pp. 34-35): This was my favorite object, and yet I find Frank's reason for selecting it to be lacking. And a bit obnoxious. The title goes like this: "I collect First World War artifacts, but not because I am one of these guys...who spends his weekends reenacting battles."
Well, alright then, now that he's established he's too cool for school, Frank goes make the usual grand, bland generalizations about the Great War - "the greatest-ever failure of enlightened, middle-class, Christian civilization..." The helmet, he tells us, taught lessons to its wearer ("I find it helpful to gaze upon that steel helmet and remember the lessons its wearer learned.") Well, maybe. All the World War I veterans are dead now, so I guess we'll never know. My guess is this helmet's wearer had a lot of other things on his mind (and under his helmet) c. 1917 than Christian civilizations and middle-class lessons learnt.
But I love this kind of old stuff - and as far as stuff goes, speaking as a collector, Wood's helmet is top-notch stuff. So let me riff a little - it deserves further treatment. Just look at it! It is pure belle epoch, something a French fireman or a Napoleonic cuirassier wouldn't be ashamed to wear. Look at that emblem on the front - crossed antique (even then) cannon over a baroque flaming bomb. Where the paint has worn off you can see it is made of brass, which has beautifully mellowed on this specimen. A separate crest is riveted along the top, something I doubt added much protection, but for sure functions aesthetically. Look at the paint! When the French were forced to - one imagines with reluctance - to paint these helmets, including the brass, in order to reduce glare (targets for snipers), what color did they choose? Not olive drab or gray - Horizon Blue. Isn't that a wonderful thing? Like something right off Monet's palette!
So yes, World War I brutalized the West, and the world, but Frank's lovely helmet paradoxically shows what was lost. Nowadays all soldiers the world over pretty much look alike, like camo SWAT teams so geared up they can barely move, which makes the old French helmet even more poignant. And somehow lovely despite its attendant tragedies.
Rick Rawlins: a sugar egg from childhood (pp. 54-55): Perhaps the least interesting object here - basically an old piece of stale candy that appears to be broken (I am not really sure what a "sugar egg" is). Despite the unpromising object, I found Rawlins account of this egg and why it is important to him to be the most moving bit of writing in this collection. A sad childhood tale of a birthday party missed, a friend's loss, and growing up, beautifully, briefly evoked. The contributor notes tell us Rawlins is an artist who teaches at the Art Institute of Boston. He should teach some creative writing classes too - this guy has talent.
Chris Fujiwara: For Several Years I Used to Meet a Woman for Sex (pp. 74-75): Another old Hermenaut contributor, I found this entry off-putting. It is a little box full of bobby pins. Fujiwara claims they were lost "in the throes of passion" by an old lover. There's a bit of churning about "all too human, multifariously human" but I don't think you should say "throes of passion," even ironically or meta or whatever. But Fujiwara shows, perhaps unintentionally, how objects fail and frustrate us, and so I appreciate the effort.
Carol Hayes "Thoughts" needlepoint (pp. 78-79): Quirky can be hard to pull off. Intentionally quirky or a manipulation of some sort - one of my favorite issues of Hermenaut (No. 15 The Fake Authenticity Issue, 1999) dealt with this. But sometimes an object seems non-fake authentic. Here we have a neatly framed needlepoint with a flower-embellished "THOUGHTS" in a tidy gold frame. Co-author Hayes rose to the occasion here. Her aunt made it, and it had been on the wall for years before Hayes realized how gently strange it was. I think so too - "profound expression and humble craft" might be nailing down its significance too much, but I like that she never felt comfortable asking her aunt what it means. Well played. And yes, I'd definitely hang this one up at my house.
Joshua Glenn Baudelaire's Death Mask (but not really) (pp. 88-89): Co-author Glenn did not disappoint with this creepy object:
"I've kept the death mask for a perverse reason: Because it's the sort of thing one used to notice in the background of photographs of pretentious writers working at their desks. Under the mask's influence I once spent two impoverishing years slaving over a book about Baudelaire and other thinkers. Like Walter Benjamin, whose Arcades Project started out in more or less the same way, I couldn't finish it."
Ach du! But perhaps the problem was this waxy serene-in-death face (which looks nothing like Baudelaire - not nearly enough lofty forehead) is actually John Keats, who was apparently a bit of a low-brow. There is a connection to Fanny Howe too, and Glenn concludes with this:
"Perhaps I was influenced by a passage from one of Howe's novels that I read as a teenager. The protagonist, an ex-political activists turned poet, is asked by a former comrade, "On your death bed, will you be able to say, 'I helped the poor in their struggle for justice?' Or will you only be able to quote Baudelaire?" It's an unfair question, I know. But it's one that still haunts me."
Space is a constraint in this book (comments are limited to one, small and square page), but I wish Glenn'd tell us more, why it is an unfair question to ask. Glenn is a sadder, less sturdy writer than in his old Hermenaut days. That is not necessarily a criticism. I'm still a fan.
Kristine Cortese: A rock wrapped in a pie tin (pp. 116-117): Some objects - like the sugar egg above - are all backstory. Otherwise they are really just trash. This is one of those trash objects that the editors felt compelled to include, I suppose to keep things from getting too precious or decadent or Antiques Roadshow. Cortese recounts her efforts to throw this thing away, until her husband convinces her this is The Precious Thing - "The thing you want more than anything else. And once you find it you must keep it safe." This backstory fell flat for me - ironic, hip, but little else beyond (ironic?) New Age shtick: "I've since incorporated the object into the energies of the room: fire, water, wood, earth (rock), and metal (pie tin)." I was annoyed by all of this, and unconvinced - it sounds like a fragment of off-off-Broadway dialogue from 22 years ago.
***
A couple of the contributors stole their object. Kim Cooper filched a Lilian O'Hara bookplate from O'Hara's home, preserved as an empty writer's shrine of sorts, which was opened up for Cooper by O'Hara's nephew (pp. 136-137). Perhaps more troubling, Patrick Smith walked off with two electric fence insulators from the Nazi death camp Auschwitz-Birkenau (pp. 48-49).
I disapprove of stealing stuff, but I am a bit conflicted. In both cases, these objects were essentially neglected. The Auschwitz insulators had fallen to the ground - I seem to recall reading that for current budgetary reasons, Cold War-era indifference, lack of will, whatever, that Auschwitz, preserved to commemorate the Holocaust, is in many places very poor repair. The O'Hara bookplate was in a box full of bookplates, in a house that is apparently stacked full of O'Hara's stuff, unloved, unutilized. Which doesn't excuse theft...but...
This book is about objects, and by its very existence, the objects included are to some extent saved from the fleeting, unnoticed, unfeeling world full of stuff. A thirty-year old broken piece of candy; auntie's weird needlepoint. Ephemera beautifully photographed, mulled and fretted over as in this book in a way saves this stuff from oblivion. In both cases, the insulators and the bookplate, I have to admit that as objects I probably would have never noticed them except by encountering them in the book.
The O'Hara bookplate is lovely in a funky California arts n' crafts way, and there was a whole box full of them, so I doubt anybody noticed it was missing (she should've just asked - the nephew might've given it to her). O'Hara is a fairly obscure artist - no Wikipedia page - a laconic "askART" page was the first hit I got (San Anselmo, CA, "marine artist and interior decorator" 1864-1959). So this nifty little bookplate can serve - since it is now published in this book - as a little reminder of this forgotten artist. That's always a good thing, I think. And it is a charming bit of art to boot, one of my favorite things to look at in this book.
Thefts from a historical monument so fraught with tragedy may be a different matter; I'm no ethicist, but I think that's fair to suggest. The Roman Forum, carted off one sliver at a time. We've all seen many photos of Auschwitz and the fences with their snarls of barbed wire and maybe we even noticed the insulators. But to isolate just the insulator - as done in this book - is to shrink down the horror, make it intimate, if not understandable then apprehendable in a way that even visiting the vast, terrible complex might not be able to provide (I've never been there, but I am guessing it is overwhelming). Which is to say I am glad Smith's conductors were included in this collection. But he probably ought to send them back to Poland with a note, and a copy of this book.
***
Ah, I wish I could submit these ruminations to Hermenaut in 1999...but like so many things, too late, too late. But I have to leave it to Goodreads. Sic transit gloria.
This is a fine little book. Disappointing for sure - anything dealing with our material world is going to be disappointing; perhaps this is a testament to its (non-fake) authenticity. Paying attention to our stuff is often just American avarice or even post-God despair. But perhaps such attention can be something else, and this book provides a glimpse of how this might be possible. At least it proves you don't need a big budget to own a significant thing (historic site thefts and pie pan-wrapped rocks notwithstanding).
Princeton Architectural Press printed it, and they did a handsome job. Putting the page numbers in the middle of the gutter, and only on the left hand side is taking "design" just a little too far for my taste, but this is a minor quibble. You should go buy it and provoke Glenn & Howe to publish a second volume, one in which they will solicit me to contribute. What would it be? The foot-shaped ceramic ashtray I found in an apartment in 1987 in Columbus, Ohio? The framed 16th century antiphonal sheet I found in 2006 at a Goodwill Store? The 1980 (or 1976? 1984?) Reagan for President fake straw boater made out of Styrofoam my brother-in-law gave me (fake authenticity indeed!)?
And so when I discovered, late, as always, that Joshua Glenn (with graphic designer Carol Hayes) published a book about actual stuff - no hermeneutics here - just stuff - so I got a copy right away, some 13 years after it was published.
And yet, when it showed up in the mail, I balked. Glenn's introductory essay was not as light-hearted as the old Hermenaut was - but then I suppose I'm not either.
"Elsewhere on the signification spectrum is another type of meaningful object that we also (mostly) eschewed: the aestheticized object, whether a world of fine, "bad" or outsider art, or a scavenged object repurposed as a Dada-esque readymade." (p. (11)).
"The literary theorist Miguel Tamen notes that not a few people believe that "certain properties of certain objects render those objects especially apt to mean." Must this always be an unenlightened, superstition notion? (Speaking of notions, the Fortean anthropologist Lyall Watson has revived the Victorian term notional to describe..." (p. 15).
I'm at the age where I have accepted the fact that my total ignorance of Fortean anthropology is going to remain intact to the grave. But slinking past Miguel Tamen and his "certain properties of certain objects" I soldiered on. And Glenn's introduction grew on me - as in the Hermenaut days, I trust him, his worried thoughtfulness, his erudition, his self-consciousness.
Such thoughts, such objects (or the paying-attention to such objects) are almost (?) decadent now, almost Ancien Régime It makes me wistful now, both the things and why we treasure the things. Tapping on our phones and politics have replaced stuff and thinking about stuff. So now on to the stuff:
Deb Wood Ceramic Hands (pp. 28-29): I was happy to see these two ceramic hands, cupped together, a spray of grape leaves and grapes at the wrist - my grandma had one of these in her house (d. 1973). Wood's delight with these things was delightful to read, but this made me feel very old. She found this thing in the trash, and treasures it as a bit of bizarre vaguely religious antique iconography. The reason I feel so old is that these cupped hands were all over the place when I was a kid - again, my grandma had one, and I'd say most Christian ladies over the age of 60 c. 1950-1970 had them. They are ubiquitous - an eBay search of "cupped hands" got 50 hits, with about 40 of them being duplicates (in various colors and materials) of Wood's example.
Glad she finds so much to admire, but she belabors the profane aspect of it: "I'm probably going to hell for this" is the title of her submission. Probably not, I'd guess. In fact the grapes and leaves motif leads me to wonder if this object wasn't vaguely Graeco-Roman pagan to begin with. The hands of Demeter? But it's fun to pretend to be naughty, especially given there are probably few Christian readers of this book who would protest her stance. Hipster secular humanists, mostly, probably. Or the non-denominationally baffled. Nobody's going to even ironic hell over this thing. But I was happy to see it here and glad Deb Wood likes it.
Thomas Frank, World War I French Helmet (pp. 34-35): This was my favorite object, and yet I find Frank's reason for selecting it to be lacking. And a bit obnoxious. The title goes like this: "I collect First World War artifacts, but not because I am one of these guys...who spends his weekends reenacting battles."
Well, alright then, now that he's established he's too cool for school, Frank goes make the usual grand, bland generalizations about the Great War - "the greatest-ever failure of enlightened, middle-class, Christian civilization..." The helmet, he tells us, taught lessons to its wearer ("I find it helpful to gaze upon that steel helmet and remember the lessons its wearer learned.") Well, maybe. All the World War I veterans are dead now, so I guess we'll never know. My guess is this helmet's wearer had a lot of other things on his mind (and under his helmet) c. 1917 than Christian civilizations and middle-class lessons learnt.
But I love this kind of old stuff - and as far as stuff goes, speaking as a collector, Wood's helmet is top-notch stuff. So let me riff a little - it deserves further treatment. Just look at it! It is pure belle epoch, something a French fireman or a Napoleonic cuirassier wouldn't be ashamed to wear. Look at that emblem on the front - crossed antique (even then) cannon over a baroque flaming bomb. Where the paint has worn off you can see it is made of brass, which has beautifully mellowed on this specimen. A separate crest is riveted along the top, something I doubt added much protection, but for sure functions aesthetically. Look at the paint! When the French were forced to - one imagines with reluctance - to paint these helmets, including the brass, in order to reduce glare (targets for snipers), what color did they choose? Not olive drab or gray - Horizon Blue. Isn't that a wonderful thing? Like something right off Monet's palette!
So yes, World War I brutalized the West, and the world, but Frank's lovely helmet paradoxically shows what was lost. Nowadays all soldiers the world over pretty much look alike, like camo SWAT teams so geared up they can barely move, which makes the old French helmet even more poignant. And somehow lovely despite its attendant tragedies.
Rick Rawlins: a sugar egg from childhood (pp. 54-55): Perhaps the least interesting object here - basically an old piece of stale candy that appears to be broken (I am not really sure what a "sugar egg" is). Despite the unpromising object, I found Rawlins account of this egg and why it is important to him to be the most moving bit of writing in this collection. A sad childhood tale of a birthday party missed, a friend's loss, and growing up, beautifully, briefly evoked. The contributor notes tell us Rawlins is an artist who teaches at the Art Institute of Boston. He should teach some creative writing classes too - this guy has talent.
Chris Fujiwara: For Several Years I Used to Meet a Woman for Sex (pp. 74-75): Another old Hermenaut contributor, I found this entry off-putting. It is a little box full of bobby pins. Fujiwara claims they were lost "in the throes of passion" by an old lover. There's a bit of churning about "all too human, multifariously human" but I don't think you should say "throes of passion," even ironically or meta or whatever. But Fujiwara shows, perhaps unintentionally, how objects fail and frustrate us, and so I appreciate the effort.
Carol Hayes "Thoughts" needlepoint (pp. 78-79): Quirky can be hard to pull off. Intentionally quirky or a manipulation of some sort - one of my favorite issues of Hermenaut (No. 15 The Fake Authenticity Issue, 1999) dealt with this. But sometimes an object seems non-fake authentic. Here we have a neatly framed needlepoint with a flower-embellished "THOUGHTS" in a tidy gold frame. Co-author Hayes rose to the occasion here. Her aunt made it, and it had been on the wall for years before Hayes realized how gently strange it was. I think so too - "profound expression and humble craft" might be nailing down its significance too much, but I like that she never felt comfortable asking her aunt what it means. Well played. And yes, I'd definitely hang this one up at my house.
Joshua Glenn Baudelaire's Death Mask (but not really) (pp. 88-89): Co-author Glenn did not disappoint with this creepy object:
"I've kept the death mask for a perverse reason: Because it's the sort of thing one used to notice in the background of photographs of pretentious writers working at their desks. Under the mask's influence I once spent two impoverishing years slaving over a book about Baudelaire and other thinkers. Like Walter Benjamin, whose Arcades Project started out in more or less the same way, I couldn't finish it."
Ach du! But perhaps the problem was this waxy serene-in-death face (which looks nothing like Baudelaire - not nearly enough lofty forehead) is actually John Keats, who was apparently a bit of a low-brow. There is a connection to Fanny Howe too, and Glenn concludes with this:
"Perhaps I was influenced by a passage from one of Howe's novels that I read as a teenager. The protagonist, an ex-political activists turned poet, is asked by a former comrade, "On your death bed, will you be able to say, 'I helped the poor in their struggle for justice?' Or will you only be able to quote Baudelaire?" It's an unfair question, I know. But it's one that still haunts me."
Space is a constraint in this book (comments are limited to one, small and square page), but I wish Glenn'd tell us more, why it is an unfair question to ask. Glenn is a sadder, less sturdy writer than in his old Hermenaut days. That is not necessarily a criticism. I'm still a fan.
Kristine Cortese: A rock wrapped in a pie tin (pp. 116-117): Some objects - like the sugar egg above - are all backstory. Otherwise they are really just trash. This is one of those trash objects that the editors felt compelled to include, I suppose to keep things from getting too precious or decadent or Antiques Roadshow. Cortese recounts her efforts to throw this thing away, until her husband convinces her this is The Precious Thing - "The thing you want more than anything else. And once you find it you must keep it safe." This backstory fell flat for me - ironic, hip, but little else beyond (ironic?) New Age shtick: "I've since incorporated the object into the energies of the room: fire, water, wood, earth (rock), and metal (pie tin)." I was annoyed by all of this, and unconvinced - it sounds like a fragment of off-off-Broadway dialogue from 22 years ago.
***
A couple of the contributors stole their object. Kim Cooper filched a Lilian O'Hara bookplate from O'Hara's home, preserved as an empty writer's shrine of sorts, which was opened up for Cooper by O'Hara's nephew (pp. 136-137). Perhaps more troubling, Patrick Smith walked off with two electric fence insulators from the Nazi death camp Auschwitz-Birkenau (pp. 48-49).
I disapprove of stealing stuff, but I am a bit conflicted. In both cases, these objects were essentially neglected. The Auschwitz insulators had fallen to the ground - I seem to recall reading that for current budgetary reasons, Cold War-era indifference, lack of will, whatever, that Auschwitz, preserved to commemorate the Holocaust, is in many places very poor repair. The O'Hara bookplate was in a box full of bookplates, in a house that is apparently stacked full of O'Hara's stuff, unloved, unutilized. Which doesn't excuse theft...but...
This book is about objects, and by its very existence, the objects included are to some extent saved from the fleeting, unnoticed, unfeeling world full of stuff. A thirty-year old broken piece of candy; auntie's weird needlepoint. Ephemera beautifully photographed, mulled and fretted over as in this book in a way saves this stuff from oblivion. In both cases, the insulators and the bookplate, I have to admit that as objects I probably would have never noticed them except by encountering them in the book.
The O'Hara bookplate is lovely in a funky California arts n' crafts way, and there was a whole box full of them, so I doubt anybody noticed it was missing (she should've just asked - the nephew might've given it to her). O'Hara is a fairly obscure artist - no Wikipedia page - a laconic "askART" page was the first hit I got (San Anselmo, CA, "marine artist and interior decorator" 1864-1959). So this nifty little bookplate can serve - since it is now published in this book - as a little reminder of this forgotten artist. That's always a good thing, I think. And it is a charming bit of art to boot, one of my favorite things to look at in this book.
Thefts from a historical monument so fraught with tragedy may be a different matter; I'm no ethicist, but I think that's fair to suggest. The Roman Forum, carted off one sliver at a time. We've all seen many photos of Auschwitz and the fences with their snarls of barbed wire and maybe we even noticed the insulators. But to isolate just the insulator - as done in this book - is to shrink down the horror, make it intimate, if not understandable then apprehendable in a way that even visiting the vast, terrible complex might not be able to provide (I've never been there, but I am guessing it is overwhelming). Which is to say I am glad Smith's conductors were included in this collection. But he probably ought to send them back to Poland with a note, and a copy of this book.
***
Ah, I wish I could submit these ruminations to Hermenaut in 1999...but like so many things, too late, too late. But I have to leave it to Goodreads. Sic transit gloria.
This is a fine little book. Disappointing for sure - anything dealing with our material world is going to be disappointing; perhaps this is a testament to its (non-fake) authenticity. Paying attention to our stuff is often just American avarice or even post-God despair. But perhaps such attention can be something else, and this book provides a glimpse of how this might be possible. At least it proves you don't need a big budget to own a significant thing (historic site thefts and pie pan-wrapped rocks notwithstanding).
Princeton Architectural Press printed it, and they did a handsome job. Putting the page numbers in the middle of the gutter, and only on the left hand side is taking "design" just a little too far for my taste, but this is a minor quibble. You should go buy it and provoke Glenn & Howe to publish a second volume, one in which they will solicit me to contribute. What would it be? The foot-shaped ceramic ashtray I found in an apartment in 1987 in Columbus, Ohio? The framed 16th century antiphonal sheet I found in 2006 at a Goodwill Store? The 1980 (or 1976? 1984?) Reagan for President fake straw boater made out of Styrofoam my brother-in-law gave me (fake authenticity indeed!)?
March 26, 2009
Editorial Reviews
New York Times Book Review:
"Short essays about treasured possessions, by artists, designers, writers and performers. The cartoonist and musician recalls playing with an assortment of rubber animals as a boy, 'acting out battles, domestic scenes, everything.' But the star was always Sunshine, above: 'one special little yellow pig.'" (August 5, 2007)
Scrubbles.net:
"...the project is beautifully executed in boxy paperback form. This would make a good gift for everyones favorite oddball." (9/16/07)
SwissMiss blog:
"It has been a while since a book has mesmerized me this much! One of my new favorites!" (9/15/07)
Ephemera Blog:
" Taking Things Seriously is good fun. And it'd make an excellent stocking stuffer for your favorite ephemera lover this upcoming holiday season. " (9/17/07)
Dwell.com:
"For those whove reached their saturation point with over-designed objects devoid of meaning, Joshua Glenns new book is a celebration of mundane objects that were never intended to mean anything, but took on a life of their own. From a soda bottle that inspired a comic strip to a hairdo machine thats a ladies magnet, each object comes with the story of why one person cant let it go. Deftly designed by Carol Hayes, the paperback serves as a cabinet of curiosities.http://www.dwell.com/products/books" (September 2007)
Domy Books blog:
"Subtitled 75 Objects With Unexpected Significance, Taking Things Seriously examines the personal significance of a range of objects, from small to large. Each of the contributors was asked to write a short essay on some object in their living space that held a deep relevance to their lives. What results is a collective Wunderkammer. From bear-shaped lamps to car headlamp knobs, these objects are talismans against evil, items of meditation and tokens of love, or even hate. There is something of the uncanny in each of these objects, as if they glow with an aura of importance. I found myself wanting the bear lamp, for instance. Each of these things, despite being inanimate, hold power over their owners. http://www.domystore.com/blog/" (September 2007)
Fiveandahalf.net:
"Taking Things Seriously is a process, an experience in looking and interpreting, reminding us to take a good look at all the ordinary things around and to realize that they are each far more just that.http://www.fiveandahalf.net/blog/2007..." (9/17/07)
Scrubbles blog:
"...the project is beautifully executed in boxy paperback form. This would make a good gift for everyones favorite oddball.http://www.scrubbles.net/2007/09/16/b..." (9/17/07)
SwissMiss blog:
"It has been a while since a book has mesmerized me this much! One of my new favorites!http://swissmiss.typepad.com/weblog/2..." (9/15/07)
ephemera blog:
"Taking Things Seriously is good fun. And it'd make an excellent stocking stuffer for your favorite ephemera lover this upcoming holiday season.http://ephemera.typepad.com/ephemera/..." (9/17/07)
designnotes blog:
"A book like Taking Things Seriously could have gone badly pretty quickly. Invite a bunch of people you know to submit a story about an object that inspires you. Ask enough people and soon enough you have a book. If youre into name dropping it gets to a point where you dont follow the stories as much as seeing who was and wasnt invited. The thing with this book is that it really doesnt feel like that. The objects and stories come off genuinely, not as a contrived look at how clever I am etc. story example. [...] it will make you look around your own surroundings and make you ask yourself what inspires you?http://designnotes.info/?p=1118" (9/5/07)
murketing.com:
"In all, sounds like a thoughtful take on on material culture (which is, of course, my beat, so Im a little biased about why I think this project is such a good idea) by an interesting bunch of contributors including Paul Lukas, Thomas Frank, and Luc Sante. I was also pleased to learn recently about Glenns Brainiac blog on the Boston Globe site, where hes got a post listing all contributors and a running account of praise received.http://www.murketing.com/journal/?p=752" (September 2007)
NYmag.com Daily Intel:
"Food, even of the most exalted kind, is rarely long for this world. Occasionally, some baron of gastronomy will announce that the floorboards in his new restaurant were salvaged from the original automat, or some credulous soul will make the News of the Weird by seeing the Virgin Mary in a grilled cheese sandwich. But food and cooking objects tend toward the ephemeral. Which is one reason we are so enjoying Taking Things Seriously, a new collection of essays about particular treasures.http://nymag.com/daily/food/2007/09/n..." (9/16/07)
bookbyitscover.com:
"Thank you Princeton Architectural Press for sending over this book yesterday! It is a new favorite. [...] You will enjoy this book and if not for the nice matte pictures and great often funny writing, then for how well designed it is. How beautiful is that cover?! Pick up a copy here.http://www.book-by-its-cover.com/othe..." (9/7/07)
Boston Phoenix:
"...the books have become personally significant objects......aesthetically pleasing, from its thick, smooth paper to the artful snapshots of each object..." (9/28/07)
The Must List, Entertainment Weekly:
"The Must List #9. Proving one man's trash is another's treasure, this collection of photos and essays shows how the unlikliest of things can provide inspiration." (October 26, 2007)
Canadian Interiors:
"delightfully offbeat and entertaining... All of the objects--captured by various photographers, including Hayes--are evocative, as are the stories behind them." (October 1, 2007)
StepInside Design:
"In an age when we're obsessed with the design, provenance, and value of every objects around us, these 75 short essays and photographs honor those magical, mysterious items that wiggle their way into our lives, and somehow into our hearts.....eclectic group of creatives who eloquently describe their little pieces of Nothing Special--and why they mean everything to them." (December 2007)
Dwell:
"In the right place at the right time, even the most useless object can attain life-changing significance. This delightful, often hilarious new book gives us 75 such examples of such things taken seriously ... quotidian items imbued with highly personal emotional power." (January 2008)
artburger:
"This lovely little book from Princeton Architectural Press helped us understand that, in fact, our inexplicable attachment to a dirty white plush duck and the rhinestone horseshoe ring given to us by a boy named Seth in eighth grade is just part of the human drive and capacity to invest inanimate objects with meaning. Our tschotschkes are no different from the ones so gorgeously shot for this book, the treasured objects of writers, artists, and other deep types." (September 2007)
Boston's Weekly Dig:
"...a visual and literary curio cabinet, a scattershot collection of 75 objects with unexpected significance." (9/19/07)
Uppercase:
"Is it possible to be in love with a book? Yes. Taking Things Seriously: 75 Objects with Unexpected Significance is the object of my affections...all the entries are equally well-written, humourous, insightful and quirky. This book is something to treasure." (October 2007)
Boston Globe:
"As the old sayings go, art is in the eye of the beholder and one person's junk is another person's treasure.Taking Things Seriously is a fun, off-center collection of objects and stories that will have you looking at the objects around you with fresh eyes and strange questions, like Would Christopher Walken autograph my burned bagel? or Is it a good thing to get military ordnance for your birthday?" (10/17/2007)
Bookofjoe.com:
"...a series of 75 very well written, entertaining two-or-three-paragraph long essays by as many different people, most of whose names I didn't recognize, about objects that acquired significance in their lives, often via strange and inexplicable series of events." (10/31/2007)
New England Antiques Journal:
"Taking Things Seriously is a wonder cabinet of 75 unlikely thingamajigs that have been invested with significance and transformed into totems, talismans, charms, relics, and fetishes...The owners of these objects convey their excitement in short, often poignant essays that invite readers to participate in the enjoyable act of interpreting things. You'll never look at the bric-a-brac on your shelves the same way again." (November 2007)
I.D.:
"Glenn and Hayes smartly highlighted the bizarre and unlikely, creating a visual cabinet of curiosity consisting of 75 treasured objects submitted by outside contributors, along with the stories behind each of them. In an era when everyone blogs about what they had for breakfast, we've all seen enough of other people's manias, but artifacts like writer John F. Kelly's moldy bagel once burnt by Chistopher Walken, cartoonist Mark Newgarden's Mickey Mouse bubble-bath bottle, or artist Kristine Cortese's rock wrapped in in a pie tin might be just weird enough to become our own obsessions." (November 2007)
Time Out Chicago:
"It's a fun read that inspires serious questions about how our own stuff gives our lives and relationships meaning." (11/22/07)
Nylon:
"The book is a touching read, proving that mundane objects, like lives, often have surprising stories to tell." (January 2008)
Priceless, Los Angeles Times Book Review:
"a wonderfully eccentric collection of things and thought-provoking essays that underscore French philosopher Bruno Latous challenge to regard objects as more than merely matters of fact but, Glenn writes in his introduction, as an association, a network, a gathering of meaning and ideas." — Kristina Lindgren (September 9, 2007)
Metropolis:
"a collection of the crazy junk-pile finds, creepy childhood mementos, and sundry souvenirs that have accrued meaning in their owners lives....... The soul wanted what it wanted." (December, 2007 )
New York Times Book Review:
"Short essays about treasured possessions, by artists, designers, writers and performers. The cartoonist and musician recalls playing with an assortment of rubber animals as a boy, 'acting out battles, domestic scenes, everything.' But the star was always Sunshine, above: 'one special little yellow pig.'" (August 5, 2007)
Scrubbles.net:
"...the project is beautifully executed in boxy paperback form. This would make a good gift for everyones favorite oddball." (9/16/07)
SwissMiss blog:
"It has been a while since a book has mesmerized me this much! One of my new favorites!" (9/15/07)
Ephemera Blog:
" Taking Things Seriously is good fun. And it'd make an excellent stocking stuffer for your favorite ephemera lover this upcoming holiday season. " (9/17/07)
Dwell.com:
"For those whove reached their saturation point with over-designed objects devoid of meaning, Joshua Glenns new book is a celebration of mundane objects that were never intended to mean anything, but took on a life of their own. From a soda bottle that inspired a comic strip to a hairdo machine thats a ladies magnet, each object comes with the story of why one person cant let it go. Deftly designed by Carol Hayes, the paperback serves as a cabinet of curiosities.http://www.dwell.com/products/books" (September 2007)
Domy Books blog:
"Subtitled 75 Objects With Unexpected Significance, Taking Things Seriously examines the personal significance of a range of objects, from small to large. Each of the contributors was asked to write a short essay on some object in their living space that held a deep relevance to their lives. What results is a collective Wunderkammer. From bear-shaped lamps to car headlamp knobs, these objects are talismans against evil, items of meditation and tokens of love, or even hate. There is something of the uncanny in each of these objects, as if they glow with an aura of importance. I found myself wanting the bear lamp, for instance. Each of these things, despite being inanimate, hold power over their owners. http://www.domystore.com/blog/" (September 2007)
Fiveandahalf.net:
"Taking Things Seriously is a process, an experience in looking and interpreting, reminding us to take a good look at all the ordinary things around and to realize that they are each far more just that.http://www.fiveandahalf.net/blog/2007..." (9/17/07)
Scrubbles blog:
"...the project is beautifully executed in boxy paperback form. This would make a good gift for everyones favorite oddball.http://www.scrubbles.net/2007/09/16/b..." (9/17/07)
SwissMiss blog:
"It has been a while since a book has mesmerized me this much! One of my new favorites!http://swissmiss.typepad.com/weblog/2..." (9/15/07)
ephemera blog:
"Taking Things Seriously is good fun. And it'd make an excellent stocking stuffer for your favorite ephemera lover this upcoming holiday season.http://ephemera.typepad.com/ephemera/..." (9/17/07)
designnotes blog:
"A book like Taking Things Seriously could have gone badly pretty quickly. Invite a bunch of people you know to submit a story about an object that inspires you. Ask enough people and soon enough you have a book. If youre into name dropping it gets to a point where you dont follow the stories as much as seeing who was and wasnt invited. The thing with this book is that it really doesnt feel like that. The objects and stories come off genuinely, not as a contrived look at how clever I am etc. story example. [...] it will make you look around your own surroundings and make you ask yourself what inspires you?http://designnotes.info/?p=1118" (9/5/07)
murketing.com:
"In all, sounds like a thoughtful take on on material culture (which is, of course, my beat, so Im a little biased about why I think this project is such a good idea) by an interesting bunch of contributors including Paul Lukas, Thomas Frank, and Luc Sante. I was also pleased to learn recently about Glenns Brainiac blog on the Boston Globe site, where hes got a post listing all contributors and a running account of praise received.http://www.murketing.com/journal/?p=752" (September 2007)
NYmag.com Daily Intel:
"Food, even of the most exalted kind, is rarely long for this world. Occasionally, some baron of gastronomy will announce that the floorboards in his new restaurant were salvaged from the original automat, or some credulous soul will make the News of the Weird by seeing the Virgin Mary in a grilled cheese sandwich. But food and cooking objects tend toward the ephemeral. Which is one reason we are so enjoying Taking Things Seriously, a new collection of essays about particular treasures.http://nymag.com/daily/food/2007/09/n..." (9/16/07)
bookbyitscover.com:
"Thank you Princeton Architectural Press for sending over this book yesterday! It is a new favorite. [...] You will enjoy this book and if not for the nice matte pictures and great often funny writing, then for how well designed it is. How beautiful is that cover?! Pick up a copy here.http://www.book-by-its-cover.com/othe..." (9/7/07)
Boston Phoenix:
"...the books have become personally significant objects......aesthetically pleasing, from its thick, smooth paper to the artful snapshots of each object..." (9/28/07)
The Must List, Entertainment Weekly:
"The Must List #9. Proving one man's trash is another's treasure, this collection of photos and essays shows how the unlikliest of things can provide inspiration." (October 26, 2007)
Canadian Interiors:
"delightfully offbeat and entertaining... All of the objects--captured by various photographers, including Hayes--are evocative, as are the stories behind them." (October 1, 2007)
StepInside Design:
"In an age when we're obsessed with the design, provenance, and value of every objects around us, these 75 short essays and photographs honor those magical, mysterious items that wiggle their way into our lives, and somehow into our hearts.....eclectic group of creatives who eloquently describe their little pieces of Nothing Special--and why they mean everything to them." (December 2007)
Dwell:
"In the right place at the right time, even the most useless object can attain life-changing significance. This delightful, often hilarious new book gives us 75 such examples of such things taken seriously ... quotidian items imbued with highly personal emotional power." (January 2008)
artburger:
"This lovely little book from Princeton Architectural Press helped us understand that, in fact, our inexplicable attachment to a dirty white plush duck and the rhinestone horseshoe ring given to us by a boy named Seth in eighth grade is just part of the human drive and capacity to invest inanimate objects with meaning. Our tschotschkes are no different from the ones so gorgeously shot for this book, the treasured objects of writers, artists, and other deep types." (September 2007)
Boston's Weekly Dig:
"...a visual and literary curio cabinet, a scattershot collection of 75 objects with unexpected significance." (9/19/07)
Uppercase:
"Is it possible to be in love with a book? Yes. Taking Things Seriously: 75 Objects with Unexpected Significance is the object of my affections...all the entries are equally well-written, humourous, insightful and quirky. This book is something to treasure." (October 2007)
Boston Globe:
"As the old sayings go, art is in the eye of the beholder and one person's junk is another person's treasure.Taking Things Seriously is a fun, off-center collection of objects and stories that will have you looking at the objects around you with fresh eyes and strange questions, like Would Christopher Walken autograph my burned bagel? or Is it a good thing to get military ordnance for your birthday?" (10/17/2007)
Bookofjoe.com:
"...a series of 75 very well written, entertaining two-or-three-paragraph long essays by as many different people, most of whose names I didn't recognize, about objects that acquired significance in their lives, often via strange and inexplicable series of events." (10/31/2007)
New England Antiques Journal:
"Taking Things Seriously is a wonder cabinet of 75 unlikely thingamajigs that have been invested with significance and transformed into totems, talismans, charms, relics, and fetishes...The owners of these objects convey their excitement in short, often poignant essays that invite readers to participate in the enjoyable act of interpreting things. You'll never look at the bric-a-brac on your shelves the same way again." (November 2007)
I.D.:
"Glenn and Hayes smartly highlighted the bizarre and unlikely, creating a visual cabinet of curiosity consisting of 75 treasured objects submitted by outside contributors, along with the stories behind each of them. In an era when everyone blogs about what they had for breakfast, we've all seen enough of other people's manias, but artifacts like writer John F. Kelly's moldy bagel once burnt by Chistopher Walken, cartoonist Mark Newgarden's Mickey Mouse bubble-bath bottle, or artist Kristine Cortese's rock wrapped in in a pie tin might be just weird enough to become our own obsessions." (November 2007)
Time Out Chicago:
"It's a fun read that inspires serious questions about how our own stuff gives our lives and relationships meaning." (11/22/07)
Nylon:
"The book is a touching read, proving that mundane objects, like lives, often have surprising stories to tell." (January 2008)
Priceless, Los Angeles Times Book Review:
"a wonderfully eccentric collection of things and thought-provoking essays that underscore French philosopher Bruno Latous challenge to regard objects as more than merely matters of fact but, Glenn writes in his introduction, as an association, a network, a gathering of meaning and ideas." — Kristina Lindgren (September 9, 2007)
Metropolis:
"a collection of the crazy junk-pile finds, creepy childhood mementos, and sundry souvenirs that have accrued meaning in their owners lives....... The soul wanted what it wanted." (December, 2007 )
August 11, 2020
I ordered this book after seeing its title listed in another book, Knitsonik Stranded Colourwork Sourcebook, a fascinating read that lead me to recording the wind in the cottonwoods across the road while matching yarns on a color card to the various colors on the trunk and lower branches of a honey locust-browns, grays, blue, yellow.... which then lead me to drawing the road as a design of stitches showing various textures. This one is a continuation of seeing things through a new lense.
US, mostly; New England, Seattle, California
US, mostly; New England, Seattle, California
June 29, 2017
Lovely, quirky little book. Glenn has collected a wonderful arrangement of objects and stories to go along with them that give the pages the life of a hundred human lives, each as unique as the objects they've come to love. It makes me think about the value we place in little, seemingly arbitrary things and the stories we create for ourselves to imbue even the smallest moments of our lives with rich meaning.
February 21, 2019
This is something rare and stunningly intimate, a collection of extremely short pieces composed of writing on one page, and at least one photo on the opposite, describing an object that the author has a particular relationship with - a collection of bizarre talismans, made meaningful only through the lens of personal experience.
This book is not for everyone, but if you like short personal narratives about odd things, zines, or insights into people's personal lives, it's for you.
This book is not for everyone, but if you like short personal narratives about odd things, zines, or insights into people's personal lives, it's for you.
November 9, 2018
This is great fun! Little objects of questionable worth except to their owners found or obtained in interesting ways. Reading it made me think of the objects that I have that fit this bill.
December 19, 2009
This was a lovely collection with a surprisingly smart introduction. The titular "things" range in size and scope, united only by the fact they would appear as useless junk to all but their owners. Each thing is accompanied by a short article by its owner, illuminating its significance. In most cases, the meaning of the objects is connected with the context in which it was purchased or discovered. Often, other people are evoked by the object (a gift from someone, the person who the owner was with when they discovered it). In any case, the objects become tantalizingly real and charged with significance that would never be evident by merely looking at them. It is this element of the volume that emerges most compelling. Over and over again, the essays expose that an object's meaning is never inherent. Rather, it is entirely inscribed by the circumstances surrounding its acquisition, discovery, or owner's whims. Sounds like fodder for a dissertation to me.
August 14, 2008
princeton architectural press! 75 diff. authors. In my youth I loved looking through my fathers curio box. Its my earliest experience with things that I thought had some talismanic power. I loved the smell and look and feel of his pocketknife, scout badges, and compass. Maybe those things have "expected significance" and therefore wouldn't have made it in the book. But I like other peoples little things that have been loved. however, I don't care much for clutter myself and can't really be bothered to save any of that rubbish.
April 22, 2008
a beautifully designed book about quirky objects and people's relationships to them. the essays were a bit short for me...most of them only 3 or four paragraphs long (is that even called an essay?). and, i wish there were a bio section for the writers...but at least the editors seemed to take careful consideration as to not select objects in banal categories (i.e. my childhood toy, something my mom/dad/girlfriend/boyfriend gave me, my first ______, etc.).
July 2, 2008
We got this book as a gift because my husband's cousin has an essay in it but that's not the only reason I liked it (though of course Rex's piece is great.) It's a collection of short essays on objects that are significant to their owners. Some are profound, some amusing. One of them (a description of a glass jar) perfectly expressed how I feel about certain objects in my life - the beautiful shape of the jar's sides, its perfect distance from screw threads to top.
August 26, 2016
Most of the book gets 4 stars.
The story/essay about the turtle gets nothing.
I don't think it even belongs in the book.
The guy thought making little kids cry was funny?
He tells the story to family, the little kid cries.
He tells it again to another family, the kid cries.
You'd think by now he'd think it might be inappropriate
for little kids.
No. Another little kid has to cry.
Who knows how many times he's chuckled through telling
this story,dragging the turtle tail around.
The story/essay about the turtle gets nothing.
I don't think it even belongs in the book.
The guy thought making little kids cry was funny?
He tells the story to family, the little kid cries.
He tells it again to another family, the kid cries.
You'd think by now he'd think it might be inappropriate
for little kids.
No. Another little kid has to cry.
Who knows how many times he's chuckled through telling
this story,dragging the turtle tail around.
April 10, 2008
Well, the key to having a revered object is to only have one. Those in the book with collections are far less poignant. For the most part well written (edited), it is a quick read that makes you glad you don't have a piece junk as a talisman (until you realize you actually do have a piece of junk as a talisman...)
December 18, 2008
This is a charming little book that April introduced to me. Each page presents someone's precious object, usually something quite esoteric—like an old toy, an antique, or a bit of obsolete machinery. The owner of the object writes a small essay about their relationship with the thing. Sometimes it's funny; usually it's touching.
October 24, 2007
This book is so gorgeous. Beautiful, simple, charming design. Also, it's a good read. A collection of photos of random objects along with the stories of how they entered their owners lives. I couldn't put it down.
October 19, 2008
Anne gave me this fun little book. I am going to pass it along to Roger and Teddy next. All lovers of funny objects would enjoy reading this book on the bus or subway.
I think the "Jig Saw Jr." was the funniest.
I think the "Jig Saw Jr." was the funniest.
April 24, 2010
Some really poignant, mundane objects belonging to creative individuals. I rather liked the tin of hairpins a writer kept as a token of his passionate affair with another woman. Stuff like that just makes you smile at the wonders of life, all its angst, happiness and sheer surrealism!
October 26, 2007
A book of essays about interesting objects and the significance they have to their owners. It's a wonderful window into how we infuse ordinary things with meaning and even a sense of sacredness.
January 9, 2008
I really expected to be much more charmed by this book than I was. I was maybe 10% charmed. More like mildly interested. Cool idea; execution could have been so much cooler.
February 20, 2008
Full disclosure: I'm in this thing!
February 10, 2009
i loved it! maybe because i take things too seriously. nevertheless i recommend it for restroom reading.
February 15, 2009
This is an amazing book of two page sets, a picture of something unusual, and the story that goes along with that object. Some are sad, some are strange, all are interesting.
April 10, 2009
This was one of the books that I used to support my Master Thesis .
July 24, 2009
Everyone seems to have 1 bizarre piece of crap that they just can't part with for reasons meaningful only to them. I love that.
November 10, 2009
This is the type of book you pick up and read and then set down again and pick it up again a few months later.....
August 1, 2010
Small, pretty book of pictures and essays about "stuff" and why it is important.
August 1, 2010
1 page vignettes: object, story
A couple are bizarre and terribly funny.
A couple are bizarre and terribly funny.
Displaying 1 - 27 of 27 reviews