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The Missing Ink: The Lost Art of Handwriting
When Philip Hensher realized that he didn't know what a close friend's handwriting looked like ("bold or crabbed, sloping or upright, italic or rounded, elegant or slapdash"), he felt that something essential was missing from their friendship. It dawned on him that having abandoned pen and paper for keyboards, we have lost one of the ways by which we come to recognize and know another person. People have written by hand for thousands of years— how, Hensher wondered, have they learned this skill, and what part has it played in their lives? The Missing Ink tells the story of this endangered art. Hensher introduces us to the nineteenth-century handwriting evangelists who traveled across America to convert the masses to the moral worth of copperplate script; he examines the role handwriting plays in the novels of Charles Dickens; he investigates the claims made by the practitioners of graphology that penmanship can reveal personality.But this is also a celebration of the physical act of the treasured fountain pens, chewable ballpoints, and personal embellishments that we stand to lose. Hensher pays tribute to the warmth and personality of the handwritten love note, postcards sent home, and daily diary entries. With the teaching of handwriting now required in only five states and many expert typists barely able to hold a pen, the future of handwriting is in jeopardy. Or is it? Hugely entertaining, witty, and thought-provoking, The Missing Ink will inspire readers to pick up a pen and write.
285 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 11, 2011
65 people are currently reading
1818 people want to read
About the author
Philip Hensher
41 books111 followersHensher was born in South London, although he spent the majority of his childhood and adolescence in Sheffield, attending Tapton School.[2] He did his undergraduate degree at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford before attending Cambridge, where he was awarded a PhD for work on 18th century painting and satire. Early in his career he worked as a clerk in the House of Commons, from which he was fired over the content of an interview he gave to a gay magazine.[1] He has published a number of novels, is a regular contributor, columnist and book reviewer for newspapers and weeklies such as The Guardian, The Spectator , The Mail on Sunday and The Independent.
The Bedroom of the Mister’s Wife (1999) brings together 14 of his stories, including ‘Dead Languages’, which A. S. Byatt selected for her Oxford Book of English Short Stories (1998), making Hensher the youngest author included in the anthology.http://literature.britishcouncil.org/...
Since 2005 he has taught creative writing at the University of Exeter. He has edited new editions of numerous classic works of English Literature, such as those by Charles Dickens and Nancy Mitford, and Hensher served as a judge for the Booker Prize. From 2013 he will hold the post of Professor of Creative Writing at Bath Spa University.[3]
Since 2000, Philip Hensher has been listed as one of the 100 most influential LGBT people in Britain,[4] and in 2003 as one of Granta's twenty Best of Young British Novelists.[1]
In 2008, Hensher's semi-autobiographical novel The Northern Clemency was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize. In 2012, Hensher won first prize -German Travel Writers Award, and is shortlisted for the Green Carnation Prize. He also won the Stonewall Prize for the Journalist of the Year in 2007 and The Somerset Maugham Award for his novel Kitchen Venom in 1996. He wrote the libretto for Thomas Adès' 1995 opera Powder Her Face. This has been his only musical collaboration to date.
His early writings have been characterized as having an "ironic, knowing distance from their characters" and "icily precise skewerings of pretension and hypocrisy"[1] His historical novel The Mulberry Empire "echos with the rhythm and language of folk tales" while "play[ing] games" with narrative forms.[1]
He is married to Zaved Mahmood, a human rights lawyer at the United Nations.
You can find out more about Philip on his author page at 4th Estate Books: http://www.4thestate.co.uk/author/phi...
The Bedroom of the Mister’s Wife (1999) brings together 14 of his stories, including ‘Dead Languages’, which A. S. Byatt selected for her Oxford Book of English Short Stories (1998), making Hensher the youngest author included in the anthology.http://literature.britishcouncil.org/...
Since 2005 he has taught creative writing at the University of Exeter. He has edited new editions of numerous classic works of English Literature, such as those by Charles Dickens and Nancy Mitford, and Hensher served as a judge for the Booker Prize. From 2013 he will hold the post of Professor of Creative Writing at Bath Spa University.[3]
Since 2000, Philip Hensher has been listed as one of the 100 most influential LGBT people in Britain,[4] and in 2003 as one of Granta's twenty Best of Young British Novelists.[1]
In 2008, Hensher's semi-autobiographical novel The Northern Clemency was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize. In 2012, Hensher won first prize -German Travel Writers Award, and is shortlisted for the Green Carnation Prize. He also won the Stonewall Prize for the Journalist of the Year in 2007 and The Somerset Maugham Award for his novel Kitchen Venom in 1996. He wrote the libretto for Thomas Adès' 1995 opera Powder Her Face. This has been his only musical collaboration to date.
His early writings have been characterized as having an "ironic, knowing distance from their characters" and "icily precise skewerings of pretension and hypocrisy"[1] His historical novel The Mulberry Empire "echos with the rhythm and language of folk tales" while "play[ing] games" with narrative forms.[1]
He is married to Zaved Mahmood, a human rights lawyer at the United Nations.
You can find out more about Philip on his author page at 4th Estate Books: http://www.4thestate.co.uk/author/phi...
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 132 reviews
December 31, 2014
I wanted to like this, not least because I bought my mother a hardback copy a while ago because of her interest in all things pen, ink and handwriting. However, after spending most of my time reading it constructing a properly scathing review — if you’re going to complain about someone’s grammar, try not doing so by saying they know “eff-all”; don’t disagree with people just by calling their opinion “crap”; some diversity of vocabulary in general would be nice, you hypocritical snob — I decided I’d just gently put it down. It doesn’t help that I’m very much not the right audience: you can’t get someone to join in a funeral dirge for a lost art of handwriting when they write notes on paper to their grandmother nearly every morning, letters to their mother semi-regularly, keep their accounts in red pen in a book, and own at least a dozen fountain pens.
It doesn’t help that my mother writes and receives several handwritten letters a day, handwrites her diary, and is a moderator at The Fountain Pen Network.
A lot of what he says is true. Typing is taking over; a text may be more convenient than a hand-written note; teachers probably don’t spend a few lessons a week on handwriting. Still, a friend of mine who’s going to be a teacher is carefully trying to improve her handwriting to set a better example; I have two boxes full of letters between me and my partner, me and my parents, me and various friends, etc, etc. I think he’s seeing a confirmation bias: he wants handwriting to be a lost art, so he finds the evidence he’s looking for — and is a snob along the way about grammar and vocabulary, while his is itself pretty woeful.
Plus, if he could’ve avoided snide comments about butch hairstyles and fat girls with “obese handwriting”, I might’ve liked him better.
It doesn’t help that my mother writes and receives several handwritten letters a day, handwrites her diary, and is a moderator at The Fountain Pen Network.
A lot of what he says is true. Typing is taking over; a text may be more convenient than a hand-written note; teachers probably don’t spend a few lessons a week on handwriting. Still, a friend of mine who’s going to be a teacher is carefully trying to improve her handwriting to set a better example; I have two boxes full of letters between me and my partner, me and my parents, me and various friends, etc, etc. I think he’s seeing a confirmation bias: he wants handwriting to be a lost art, so he finds the evidence he’s looking for — and is a snob along the way about grammar and vocabulary, while his is itself pretty woeful.
Plus, if he could’ve avoided snide comments about butch hairstyles and fat girls with “obese handwriting”, I might’ve liked him better.
June 24, 2014
I read this because I'm writing a feature on handwriting and thought it might be useful. I was sent it by the publisher when it was first released and had it lying around this whole time.
Immediately I was put offside by the author's snobbish tone. Hensher uses footnotes mainly to bitch about the people and organisations he's discussing, or to assert his own superiority to whatever he's mentioning. On page 19 he sniffs that a teacher he's quoted "evidently knows eff-all about the dangling participle", while on page 21 he uses another footnote to dismiss a headmaster's pedagogical claim: "Oh, crap. Seriously, what crap." Hensher peppers citations with sarcastic [sic] whenever he feels someone's grammar is lacking. Later on, he uses a footnote to complain that American taxi drivers can't understand his English accent! Come on! Does he expect the reader – who simply wants a cultural history of handwriting – to be on his side in such petty disdain?
The book itself is a curiously unstructured and unsatisfying mix of history, literary criticism and memoir. It's a shame it's so all over the place because the chapters on the history of pens and ink were really fascinating, and I enjoyed meeting the pedagogues who trained generations of young writers in particular styles. However, Hensher introduces various proponents of handwriting instruction, and varying writing styles, in an offhand way, and out of any meaningful sequence, so you don't get a clear sense of how handwriting developed and spread over time and geography as different looks and techniques became fashionable. There's no narrative, no throughway. It reads like a random notebook of ideas.
I was especially bored by the chapters about the pseudoscience of 'graphology' (claiming to understand someone's character by their handwriting), and there are also some really tiresome chapters about the role of handwriting in the novels of Dickens and Proust, which felt like a 5pm Friday lecture by your most pompous lecturer. Indeed, Hensher seems to take a dim view of young people in general and his students in particular, seeing himself as vastly superior to them because of his love of handwriting and how brilliant and pretty his writing is.
Adding to the scattershot atmosphere is the way the book is peppered with transcripts of Hensher's conversations about handwriting with his friends, family and associates, some of whom actually praise his writing and talk about how much they enjoy receiving postcards from him. "Yes, I've got extraordinarily beautiful handwriting, it's true," agrees Hensher. What kind of egomaniac puts that in their book!?!?
The preening self-regard reaches its apotheosis in an absurd chapter relating how Hensher goes shopping for a new pen with an italic nib and a refillable, pump-action, hydraulic reservoir. He can't help raging snobbishly about the staff and customers in the various shops he visits – I mean, his is a perfectly simple quest! At the mercy of what kind of dull, savage, screen-prodding society does this refined and wise scholar find himself? By this late stage in the book I was reading bits and pieces out to my friends in a posh voice and we were all laughing convulsively.
Immediately I was put offside by the author's snobbish tone. Hensher uses footnotes mainly to bitch about the people and organisations he's discussing, or to assert his own superiority to whatever he's mentioning. On page 19 he sniffs that a teacher he's quoted "evidently knows eff-all about the dangling participle", while on page 21 he uses another footnote to dismiss a headmaster's pedagogical claim: "Oh, crap. Seriously, what crap." Hensher peppers citations with sarcastic [sic] whenever he feels someone's grammar is lacking. Later on, he uses a footnote to complain that American taxi drivers can't understand his English accent! Come on! Does he expect the reader – who simply wants a cultural history of handwriting – to be on his side in such petty disdain?
The book itself is a curiously unstructured and unsatisfying mix of history, literary criticism and memoir. It's a shame it's so all over the place because the chapters on the history of pens and ink were really fascinating, and I enjoyed meeting the pedagogues who trained generations of young writers in particular styles. However, Hensher introduces various proponents of handwriting instruction, and varying writing styles, in an offhand way, and out of any meaningful sequence, so you don't get a clear sense of how handwriting developed and spread over time and geography as different looks and techniques became fashionable. There's no narrative, no throughway. It reads like a random notebook of ideas.
I was especially bored by the chapters about the pseudoscience of 'graphology' (claiming to understand someone's character by their handwriting), and there are also some really tiresome chapters about the role of handwriting in the novels of Dickens and Proust, which felt like a 5pm Friday lecture by your most pompous lecturer. Indeed, Hensher seems to take a dim view of young people in general and his students in particular, seeing himself as vastly superior to them because of his love of handwriting and how brilliant and pretty his writing is.
Adding to the scattershot atmosphere is the way the book is peppered with transcripts of Hensher's conversations about handwriting with his friends, family and associates, some of whom actually praise his writing and talk about how much they enjoy receiving postcards from him. "Yes, I've got extraordinarily beautiful handwriting, it's true," agrees Hensher. What kind of egomaniac puts that in their book!?!?
The preening self-regard reaches its apotheosis in an absurd chapter relating how Hensher goes shopping for a new pen with an italic nib and a refillable, pump-action, hydraulic reservoir. He can't help raging snobbishly about the staff and customers in the various shops he visits – I mean, his is a perfectly simple quest! At the mercy of what kind of dull, savage, screen-prodding society does this refined and wise scholar find himself? By this late stage in the book I was reading bits and pieces out to my friends in a posh voice and we were all laughing convulsively.
November 12, 2013
I love this book and was delighted to win a copy through Goodreads’ First Reads!
Recently I’ve enjoyed two sprawling nonfiction books about the old-fashioned media of paper and ink: Paper: An Elegy by Ian Sansom, and this one.
Hensher’s The Missing Ink is a defense of the lost art of handwriting in an age when nearly everything is type-written. Words are unspeakably diminished when they do not bear the cast of an individual’s hand, Hensher feels. He traces the history of both handwriting instruction and the ballpoint pen, cites the importance of using a ‘copperplate’ style on official documents, and considers what significance handwriting had for authors ranging from Charles Dickens to Marcel Proust.
In the nineteenth century handwriting (especially one’s signature) was essential proof of authorship and ownership; moreover, it was thought to give clues to the individual mind and psychology – the pseudo-science of graphology is, like phrenology (the study of head size and bumps), intriguing if a little bit bonkers. “I’ve come to the conclusion that handwriting is good for us,” Hensher declares. “It involves us in a relationship with the written word which is sensuous, immediate, and individual. It opens our personality out to the world.” That’s something an e-mail or text message could never do.
(This review formed part of an article about the lost art of letter writing on Bookkaholic.)
Recently I’ve enjoyed two sprawling nonfiction books about the old-fashioned media of paper and ink: Paper: An Elegy by Ian Sansom, and this one.
Hensher’s The Missing Ink is a defense of the lost art of handwriting in an age when nearly everything is type-written. Words are unspeakably diminished when they do not bear the cast of an individual’s hand, Hensher feels. He traces the history of both handwriting instruction and the ballpoint pen, cites the importance of using a ‘copperplate’ style on official documents, and considers what significance handwriting had for authors ranging from Charles Dickens to Marcel Proust.
In the nineteenth century handwriting (especially one’s signature) was essential proof of authorship and ownership; moreover, it was thought to give clues to the individual mind and psychology – the pseudo-science of graphology is, like phrenology (the study of head size and bumps), intriguing if a little bit bonkers. “I’ve come to the conclusion that handwriting is good for us,” Hensher declares. “It involves us in a relationship with the written word which is sensuous, immediate, and individual. It opens our personality out to the world.” That’s something an e-mail or text message could never do.
(This review formed part of an article about the lost art of letter writing on Bookkaholic.)
April 2, 2013
I was really hoping to enjoy this book but found myself frustrated. The book trips from topic to optic--Dickens' handwriting, graphology, the history of pens, Hitler's handwriting.... I can't say I learned much at all. The lack of coherent structure is in part the result of a completely ahistorical approach. I was so desperate for dates (Palmer method is devised when?) that I kept going to Wikipedia for help, which is not so bad considering the author cites it at one point as the only source he could find on the chemistry of ink. Really?
May 4, 2013
Nerd alert. Unless you are into handwriting, typography, and fountain pens you probably aren't going to enjoy this book. Fortunately for me I'm enamored of all three. Like most people I hate my handwriting. It's crabbed, and even when I remark to myself that ah... that's a nicely turned capital K...when I go back to read it later. I can't.
This book feels your pain and embarrassment in a soothing sort of way. While it was a little rambling and often went down odd little paths. SHINY. If you can bear this (which I can) then you will enjoy Mr. Hensher's book.
Shout out to Chapter 28 - My Italic Nightmare wherein the author goes on a search for a pen with an italic nib. He searches all over the boroughs and ends up with the same type of pen, a Lamy, that he already owns...but the journey is filled with adventure.
Again you probably need to have "super geek" powers to enjoy this. You know who you are...
Top Hat Reviews
This book feels your pain and embarrassment in a soothing sort of way. While it was a little rambling and often went down odd little paths. SHINY. If you can bear this (which I can) then you will enjoy Mr. Hensher's book.
Shout out to Chapter 28 - My Italic Nightmare wherein the author goes on a search for a pen with an italic nib. He searches all over the boroughs and ends up with the same type of pen, a Lamy, that he already owns...but the journey is filled with adventure.
Again you probably need to have "super geek" powers to enjoy this. You know who you are...
Top Hat Reviews
December 29, 2012
The final chapter of this book made it worth the read with its encouragement to embrace handwritten communication in the same way that we embrace the slow-food movement.
Philip Henscher needed an editor with a firm hand as he wanders away from the topic with ease. What is missing from the book are sufficeint illustrations of the styles of handwriting under discussion.
None the less it was an interesting read and has highlighted the topic of handwriting whenever it is mentioned, most recently for me in Middlemarch, which I would have glossed over previously.
Philip Henscher needed an editor with a firm hand as he wanders away from the topic with ease. What is missing from the book are sufficeint illustrations of the styles of handwriting under discussion.
None the less it was an interesting read and has highlighted the topic of handwriting whenever it is mentioned, most recently for me in Middlemarch, which I would have glossed over previously.
July 3, 2018
Hensher looks at the history of writing and recalls his own experiences of learning to write and how it's something that's being used less and less. Amusing quick read.
March 9, 2013
“Handwriting is good for you,” says Philip Hensher. “It involves us in a relationship with the written word which is sensuous, immediate, and individual.”
(The incontrovertible truth of the author’s conclusion is made so much more endearing, to me, by the nonchalant use of the Oxford comma.)
This is not an author who shies from his opinions, or from sharing his vocabulary. Haruspication! Really? Oh, Philip, how do I love thee?
The Missing Ink is a very personal amble with handwriting and pens. You get history, style, art, practice, and glances into strange places, real and virtual. How delectable to learn that there is a “gloriously mad blog” out there that teaches how to improve your penmanship by changing your menu? Or that the Prince of Wales writes long letters to various government ministries, imparting his philosophy in purple ink?
The subject of handwriting analysis yields treasures. What does one have to see to believe that the penman “would jump out of an aeroplane… and drink the homebrewed absinthe of a Serbian warlord”? (And what, I wonder, would that do to my own handwring?)
Hensler devotes an entire chapter to the pen that has been my own guilty pleasure for over half of a century: the Bic Cristal. How many of these have I used until the last of the black ink, long disappeared from view and confined only within the oh-so-solid confines of the point, finally discharges its last, perfectly-black line? I hoard them against the day that some scribbling tyrant decides these pens are no longer necessary in the corporate line.
I love to read about ink colors. Hensler says, “I am not quite convinced about writing with blue ink… It is cozy and friendly, but perhaps not very serious… Beyond [blue-black or black], we are really into exotic and faintly frightening territory.”
Were I to write to the author, I would respect his preferences, but in (almost) all other ventures, I profess a great love for the purple, the turquoise, the sepia – even the occasional oxblood. I am, in most things, a child of the sixties.
(I do admit to having been chastised by a pen friend, once, for writing a red letter on yellow paper. Point, as it were, taken.)
Oxblood brings me back to Oxford. Yes, I love this book with all its whimsy, chattiness, and excellent punctuation. You – you know who you are – will also. I promise.
(The incontrovertible truth of the author’s conclusion is made so much more endearing, to me, by the nonchalant use of the Oxford comma.)
This is not an author who shies from his opinions, or from sharing his vocabulary. Haruspication! Really? Oh, Philip, how do I love thee?
The Missing Ink is a very personal amble with handwriting and pens. You get history, style, art, practice, and glances into strange places, real and virtual. How delectable to learn that there is a “gloriously mad blog” out there that teaches how to improve your penmanship by changing your menu? Or that the Prince of Wales writes long letters to various government ministries, imparting his philosophy in purple ink?
The subject of handwriting analysis yields treasures. What does one have to see to believe that the penman “would jump out of an aeroplane… and drink the homebrewed absinthe of a Serbian warlord”? (And what, I wonder, would that do to my own handwring?)
Hensler devotes an entire chapter to the pen that has been my own guilty pleasure for over half of a century: the Bic Cristal. How many of these have I used until the last of the black ink, long disappeared from view and confined only within the oh-so-solid confines of the point, finally discharges its last, perfectly-black line? I hoard them against the day that some scribbling tyrant decides these pens are no longer necessary in the corporate line.
I love to read about ink colors. Hensler says, “I am not quite convinced about writing with blue ink… It is cozy and friendly, but perhaps not very serious… Beyond [blue-black or black], we are really into exotic and faintly frightening territory.”
Were I to write to the author, I would respect his preferences, but in (almost) all other ventures, I profess a great love for the purple, the turquoise, the sepia – even the occasional oxblood. I am, in most things, a child of the sixties.
(I do admit to having been chastised by a pen friend, once, for writing a red letter on yellow paper. Point, as it were, taken.)
Oxblood brings me back to Oxford. Yes, I love this book with all its whimsy, chattiness, and excellent punctuation. You – you know who you are – will also. I promise.
December 3, 2012
I enjoyed reading this book, although it sort of takes off in various directions at certain points.
Hensher tells us how handwriting has evolved and the various schools, both in how to write in hand - and how to teach kids in school to do it.
There are a lot of great zingers, quote material and standpoints throughout the book, however some chapters could easily be skipped by the reader. For example the one on Proust - even though the following quote: "Nobody has ever gone more deeply into the superficial than Proust did" - the same could be said about that chapter.
Also, I'm just not that interested in reading about how Hensher went from shop to shop, hunting for a certain pen.
The final chapter, on what can be done to teach yourself better handwriting and not letting it die, is what pushes this book from the third star up to that fourth 'really liked it' star.
"The worst thing that can happen to a writer is that their hand shows no individuality."
Hensher tells us how handwriting has evolved and the various schools, both in how to write in hand - and how to teach kids in school to do it.
There are a lot of great zingers, quote material and standpoints throughout the book, however some chapters could easily be skipped by the reader. For example the one on Proust - even though the following quote: "Nobody has ever gone more deeply into the superficial than Proust did" - the same could be said about that chapter.
Also, I'm just not that interested in reading about how Hensher went from shop to shop, hunting for a certain pen.
The final chapter, on what can be done to teach yourself better handwriting and not letting it die, is what pushes this book from the third star up to that fourth 'really liked it' star.
"The worst thing that can happen to a writer is that their hand shows no individuality."
January 10, 2016
This book is fun if you're interested in handwriting and its absurd history.
http://kitaplikkedisi.com/kitaplar/ph...
http://kitaplikkedisi.com/kitaplar/ph...
May 4, 2013
This is a book i was looking forward to reading thinking it would be of a similar vein to Just My Type: A Book about Fonts and Paper: An Elegy. In some ways it was, as Henshers enthusiasm for the subject is clear, but in other ways it was annoying.
The final two or three chapters on the Bic, and trying to purchase a particular fountain pen were great, but i didn't completely get the Witness chapters. And the footnotes were excessive in the extreme. If you have a foot note that goes over three pages, then surely that should have been part of the main text?
In all not bad, but as it promised so much it could have been so much better!
The final two or three chapters on the Bic, and trying to purchase a particular fountain pen were great, but i didn't completely get the Witness chapters. And the footnotes were excessive in the extreme. If you have a foot note that goes over three pages, then surely that should have been part of the main text?
In all not bad, but as it promised so much it could have been so much better!
June 23, 2014
I checked this out after seeing that my goodreads friend William was reading it. Now I see that he gave it just two stars while here I cam giving it four stars.
I don't necessarily disagree with anything William says in his review, but I enjoyed the book. I like Hensher's writing style. I enjoyed his anecdotes, interviews, and snippets from literature. The book wouldn't appeal to everyone, but it suited me. It also inspired me to handwrite a few notes and send them out in the U.S. mail.
The chapter about pen technology might be paired with Henry Petroski's The Pencil: A History of Design and Circumstance.
I don't necessarily disagree with anything William says in his review, but I enjoyed the book. I like Hensher's writing style. I enjoyed his anecdotes, interviews, and snippets from literature. The book wouldn't appeal to everyone, but it suited me. It also inspired me to handwrite a few notes and send them out in the U.S. mail.
The chapter about pen technology might be paired with Henry Petroski's The Pencil: A History of Design and Circumstance.
January 10, 2013
Ultimately, the nicest parts of this book, the ones that made me want to get out my writing-implement-shaped flag and wave it around while tooting a big horn, were the introduction and the closing chapter. It seemed as though Hensher, passionate though he clearly is, wrote a wonderful book proposal about something he cares about deeply, and then had to fill a page count. Parts of this read like a term paper.
August 23, 2016
Very interesting book, with an unusual topic.
Filled with facts and people's stories/journey's with handwriting throughout their life.
Great book for people who have an interest in handwriting, calligraphy and even pens!
It covers a broad range of aspects of handwriting, its history, culture, evolution through time and it also touches slightly on its future.
I wish I could give it 3.5 stars. In favour, for the author I'm giving this book 4, because I'm a nice person! :)
Filled with facts and people's stories/journey's with handwriting throughout their life.
Great book for people who have an interest in handwriting, calligraphy and even pens!
It covers a broad range of aspects of handwriting, its history, culture, evolution through time and it also touches slightly on its future.
I wish I could give it 3.5 stars. In favour, for the author I'm giving this book 4, because I'm a nice person! :)
April 7, 2019
Reviewed together: The History and Uncertain Future of Handwriting by Anne Trubek and The Missing Ink, the Lost Art of Handwriting (and Why It Still Matters) by Philip Henshaw, see
https://anzlitlovers.com/2019/04/07/t...
https://anzlitlovers.com/2019/04/07/t...
January 22, 2013
Just fabulous. A celebration of the dying art of handwriting. No pomposity or nonsense here, just a funny easy read. I've bought a new fountain pen and have started writing letters again!
May 13, 2020
I enjoyed this.
I have to say I was expecting more nerd. I thought it would be a bit more about how writing developed and how the different scripts came about and then the variations within them. There is a bit of history and it’s quite interesting.
This felt like it was written in a summer house with a glass of wine on the go but I wasn’t mad about that. Some unusual bits where the authors voice is stronger than necessary but again I think this was because I was expecting a different kind of book.
If you’re relaxing and happy to read a chapter about trying to buy a specific fountain pen then it’s really quite jolly.
I have to say I was expecting more nerd. I thought it would be a bit more about how writing developed and how the different scripts came about and then the variations within them. There is a bit of history and it’s quite interesting.
This felt like it was written in a summer house with a glass of wine on the go but I wasn’t mad about that. Some unusual bits where the authors voice is stronger than necessary but again I think this was because I was expecting a different kind of book.
If you’re relaxing and happy to read a chapter about trying to buy a specific fountain pen then it’s really quite jolly.
November 6, 2025
Personally, I did enjoy chapters, reading your Mind, Ink, and Biros and not Biros. and some of the images of handwriting examples, However, I found the formated layout dissruptive to my flow of reading, Flipping from Interview format, to factual excerpts, to author's personal recollections and opinions.
I found myself skimping my readi and not engaged with the text. The author's tone was rather biased and jarring for my taste. I was captivated by the title, the concept was not excercuted to my expectations, verging on a pulp. Out of 250 pages, I would say about 50 or less pages resonated.
I found myself skimping my readi and not engaged with the text. The author's tone was rather biased and jarring for my taste. I was captivated by the title, the concept was not excercuted to my expectations, verging on a pulp. Out of 250 pages, I would say about 50 or less pages resonated.
March 2, 2024
This book has good information clearly presented, but the style is baffling. It's clear that the author was trying to be funny, but the jokes are mostly silly (I love silly jokes but this was too much even for me), obscure references, or cruel and colonialist. Who the hell was he writing this for???
One benefit is I learned my new favorite pangram: Amazingly few discotheques provide jukeboxes."
One benefit is I learned my new favorite pangram: Amazingly few discotheques provide jukeboxes."
January 28, 2013
I like micro-history -- those books that cover just one event, one product, one year. Mark Kurlansky is a great author in this field and sometimes I feel every other micro-historian is trying to copy his success.
I am also the proud owner of two fountain pens (one with blue ink, one with purple) and some very high quality paper. I love to write -- hand write -- notes in a script I can only say was influenced early on by the Palmer method and Catholic nuns. So when I saw a book with the subtitle "The Lost Art of Handwriting" I immediately put it on my library hold list.
Philip Hensher was motivated to write this book because he realized that he had never seen the handwriting of one of his very good friends and that he believed that handwriting tells you something about the other person. Whether there is any reliability in graphology or not I leave to others, but handwriting is a lost art form. I have two close friends from grade school days whose handwriting is immediately distinguished on an envelope (with much joy). There are three persons in my life whose handwriting is virtually unreadable, but again, I'd know it anywhere.
The main complaint I have about the book (and perhaps this is the fault of the editor or publisher rather than the author) is that it needs more examples of the various types of handwriting methods which he talks about. Yes, there are a few examples of copperplate and italic and the French and German styles, but not nearly enough. Especially when Hensher reviews the various penmanship methods taught in British schools, it would be lovely to have examples right on that page. And, of course, since he is a Brit, less attention is paid to those American writing exercises that I experienced.
A good book that just didn't meet all of my need-to-know in this field.
I am also the proud owner of two fountain pens (one with blue ink, one with purple) and some very high quality paper. I love to write -- hand write -- notes in a script I can only say was influenced early on by the Palmer method and Catholic nuns. So when I saw a book with the subtitle "The Lost Art of Handwriting" I immediately put it on my library hold list.
Philip Hensher was motivated to write this book because he realized that he had never seen the handwriting of one of his very good friends and that he believed that handwriting tells you something about the other person. Whether there is any reliability in graphology or not I leave to others, but handwriting is a lost art form. I have two close friends from grade school days whose handwriting is immediately distinguished on an envelope (with much joy). There are three persons in my life whose handwriting is virtually unreadable, but again, I'd know it anywhere.
The main complaint I have about the book (and perhaps this is the fault of the editor or publisher rather than the author) is that it needs more examples of the various types of handwriting methods which he talks about. Yes, there are a few examples of copperplate and italic and the French and German styles, but not nearly enough. Especially when Hensher reviews the various penmanship methods taught in British schools, it would be lovely to have examples right on that page. And, of course, since he is a Brit, less attention is paid to those American writing exercises that I experienced.
A good book that just didn't meet all of my need-to-know in this field.
September 15, 2013
For the first few chapters or so I hated this book. I thought the author was patronizing and overly critical. But then he shared an example of his handwriting. After that I just sat back and enjoyed the amusing interviews with random people about how they learned to write or their thoughts on different types of handwriting, and the consistent criticism of people who dot their i's with hearts. Extremely silly.
I learned all sorts of interesting things about different types of handwriting and a few different cultural differences and methodologies. I empathized with the author's thoughts about when and why modern people learn the italic style, and how completely impractical it is. I too learned it when I was about 12 and in a similar emotional state and practiced it regularly. I even have an italic nib pen, though it's a Pelikan, not a Lamy.
And I love fountain pens! I just felt like Hensher was a kindred spirit. And all because he shared his handwriting. It's a completely irrational and unscientific way to judge character, and yet I do. I am perhaps one of the last of my friends who has a pen pal, however irregular our communications. We appreciate getting "real mail," and I like seeing my friend's handwriting and learning about her life in a way that requires effort and care. She writes with a ballpoint (or biro, as the British call it) and is much more legible that I am, but I think she enjoys the effort it takes to decipher my hand and learn about my life.
If cursive is disappearing from schools, I think it means a piece of our identity will disappear with it. May new generations of children learn and adopt cursive the same way I learned italic (and still use it for special occasions). Perhaps Spencer or Palmer will make a comeback among clusters of fans, however time-consuming their methods.
I learned all sorts of interesting things about different types of handwriting and a few different cultural differences and methodologies. I empathized with the author's thoughts about when and why modern people learn the italic style, and how completely impractical it is. I too learned it when I was about 12 and in a similar emotional state and practiced it regularly. I even have an italic nib pen, though it's a Pelikan, not a Lamy.
And I love fountain pens! I just felt like Hensher was a kindred spirit. And all because he shared his handwriting. It's a completely irrational and unscientific way to judge character, and yet I do. I am perhaps one of the last of my friends who has a pen pal, however irregular our communications. We appreciate getting "real mail," and I like seeing my friend's handwriting and learning about her life in a way that requires effort and care. She writes with a ballpoint (or biro, as the British call it) and is much more legible that I am, but I think she enjoys the effort it takes to decipher my hand and learn about my life.
If cursive is disappearing from schools, I think it means a piece of our identity will disappear with it. May new generations of children learn and adopt cursive the same way I learned italic (and still use it for special occasions). Perhaps Spencer or Palmer will make a comeback among clusters of fans, however time-consuming their methods.
September 16, 2014
Maybe I was expecting too much from this book. Based on the title and various blurbs I had encountered, I was hoping Hensher would offer something in the vein of cultural commentary or analysis about our dwindling attachment to the physical act of writing. Instead, The Missing Ink is a motley assortment of disconnected vignettes with no real overarching structure. It's not really argumentative or following a thesis, nor is it personal enough to be a commentary/memoir hybrid like The Butterfly Mosque. The book lacks direction and feels more like a padded out list of trivial facts than an actual exploration of handwriting. I did learn some interesting things, but I probably would have learned as much from a Wikipedia article. Yeah, I said it.
The last section was pretty good, but not worth slogging through everything else. I think my main problem with this book is that it lacks perspective and maturity. Hensher is a decent writer, but he doesn't really have much to SAY about this topic. The points he does articulate are repeated over and over and share a flimsy relevance with the rest of the book. Very disappointing.
The last section was pretty good, but not worth slogging through everything else. I think my main problem with this book is that it lacks perspective and maturity. Hensher is a decent writer, but he doesn't really have much to SAY about this topic. The points he does articulate are repeated over and over and share a flimsy relevance with the rest of the book. Very disappointing.
October 12, 2018
I really wanted to like this book, but to be honest the writer comes across like one of the regular writers of letters to the editor in a local newspaper, so sure of his superiority and correctness. The book might be bearable if his frequent mocking footnotes were excised, but that would still leave the mocking of the overweight and disdain for the frivolity of young girls displayed in the introduction that was my first clue I wasn't going to make it through the book.
Good concept, horrifically pompous execution.
Good concept, horrifically pompous execution.
July 5, 2015
I picked this up from a library book-sale while on vacation. While there are some typically British un-PC comments towards the beginning, overall this is a fun book about the history and current state of penmanship and handwriting, and the utensils used to create it.
One of the fun things I realized is how the Palmer Method capital Q got its shape. However, I'm left with one burning question: Why do the Brits never close the bottoms of their small Ps?!
One of the fun things I realized is how the Palmer Method capital Q got its shape. However, I'm left with one burning question: Why do the Brits never close the bottoms of their small Ps?!
October 3, 2019
As the other reviews mention, the writer is a bit snobbish, and relishes in tearing others down.
October 7, 2024
Hensher begins by exploring the historical context of handwriting, tracing its evolution from ancient scripts to the cursive styles that many are familiar with today. He highlights how handwriting has been a means of personal expression and identity, with each individual's penmanship reflecting their character and emotions. The author argues that this unique form of communication fosters a deeper connection between the writer and the recipient, something that typed messages often lack.
A significant portion of the book addresses the implications of the digital age on handwriting. Hensher expresses concern over how reliance on technology diminishes our ability to write by hand, which he believes is crucial for cognitive development and personal reflection. He cites studies suggesting that writing by hand enhances memory retention and creativity, contrasting this with the often superficial engagement that comes from typing.
Hensher also discusses the societal implications of losing handwriting skills. He argues that handwriting is not merely a practical skill but an art form that cultivates patience, mindfulness, and attention to detail. In a world dominated by fast-paced communication methods, he posits that the act of writing by hand encourages a more thoughtful approach to expressing ideas.
Throughout The Missing Ink, Hensher weaves in anecdotes from his own life, including his experiences teaching handwriting to children. These narratives serve to humanize his arguments and illustrate the joy and satisfaction that can come from mastering this skill. His reflections on personal letters and notes emphasize how handwritten communication can convey warmth and intimacy that digital messages often fail to achieve.
The Missing Ink is both a celebration of handwriting and a cautionary tale about its decline. Hensher effectively argues for the importance of preserving this art form in our increasingly digital society. By advocating for a renewed appreciation of handwriting, he encourages readers to consider its role not only as a means of communication but as an integral part of our cultural heritage and personal identity. The book resonates with anyone who values the tactile experience of writing and recognizes its potential for fostering meaningful connections in an age dominated by screens.
A significant portion of the book addresses the implications of the digital age on handwriting. Hensher expresses concern over how reliance on technology diminishes our ability to write by hand, which he believes is crucial for cognitive development and personal reflection. He cites studies suggesting that writing by hand enhances memory retention and creativity, contrasting this with the often superficial engagement that comes from typing.
Hensher also discusses the societal implications of losing handwriting skills. He argues that handwriting is not merely a practical skill but an art form that cultivates patience, mindfulness, and attention to detail. In a world dominated by fast-paced communication methods, he posits that the act of writing by hand encourages a more thoughtful approach to expressing ideas.
Throughout The Missing Ink, Hensher weaves in anecdotes from his own life, including his experiences teaching handwriting to children. These narratives serve to humanize his arguments and illustrate the joy and satisfaction that can come from mastering this skill. His reflections on personal letters and notes emphasize how handwritten communication can convey warmth and intimacy that digital messages often fail to achieve.
The Missing Ink is both a celebration of handwriting and a cautionary tale about its decline. Hensher effectively argues for the importance of preserving this art form in our increasingly digital society. By advocating for a renewed appreciation of handwriting, he encourages readers to consider its role not only as a means of communication but as an integral part of our cultural heritage and personal identity. The book resonates with anyone who values the tactile experience of writing and recognizes its potential for fostering meaningful connections in an age dominated by screens.
August 24, 2024
Started out strong; I enjoyed following the thread of handwriting throughout the ages and its role in society, but the author's voice very quickly went from witty/chuckle-worthy to overwhelmingly haughty, know-it-all, and irritating. I believe his voice worked best when commenting on the history of handwriting, how it was taught, how inks were formulated, etc. His voice worked against the goals of this book whenever he strayed from those topics, see: the random and incredibly mean-spirited comment against an overweight girl in his class, the way he very emphatically does not like it when people circle their dots, snarking on perfectly acceptable grammar from other folk throughout history, another random comment against butches for some reason, generally thinking very little of some folk due to their handwriting, and Things Such As.
The other big knock against this book is its very meandering style. We go from the history of handwriting and a few different styles to a detour involving Hitler for some reason, a couple of chapters on graphology (a pseudoscience on the same level as astrology that really should be worth 1 chapter at most) that I started to skim, and a few more chapters on the part handwriting played in a few novelists' works, which was the point where I went from skimming to flipping pages. The interviews were also wholly unnecessary as they don't really add anything, are completely separate from their surrounding chapters, and I believe were put there because the author said they would be there near the start of the book and felt the need to follow through on that.
I'm overall glad that I finished it, but I don't believe I'll ever read it again, and it will likely rot on my shelf until I find someone to pawn it off onto.
The other big knock against this book is its very meandering style. We go from the history of handwriting and a few different styles to a detour involving Hitler for some reason, a couple of chapters on graphology (a pseudoscience on the same level as astrology that really should be worth 1 chapter at most) that I started to skim, and a few more chapters on the part handwriting played in a few novelists' works, which was the point where I went from skimming to flipping pages. The interviews were also wholly unnecessary as they don't really add anything, are completely separate from their surrounding chapters, and I believe were put there because the author said they would be there near the start of the book and felt the need to follow through on that.
I'm overall glad that I finished it, but I don't believe I'll ever read it again, and it will likely rot on my shelf until I find someone to pawn it off onto.
May 8, 2020
Smug, sprawling, and not very informative. I admit that I enjoyed this book at the start because I thought Philip Hensher's style was witty (it's great when non-fiction doesn't make me want to fall asleep), but as I got deeper into the book I realized that his sense humour is often cruel and pretentious. The Missing Ink supposedly "tells the story of this endangered art [of handwriting]," but it's really a mishmash of topics that are tangentially related to handwriting. Like a chapter on the invention of the ballpoint pen, or a chapter in which the author goes on a heroic journey across London to find a specific type of fountain pen. There are chapters about how handwriting is used as plot device or character development in the works of Dickens, Proust, Conan Doyle. There are a bunch of fluff interviews where people talk about their handwriting. There are several chapters where he denounces the pseudoscience of graphology...apparently the author hasn't watched any episodes of Forensic Files.
I'm honestly not too sure how this book ended up on my shelf in the first place. Maybe because I'm one of those weirdoes who loves to write—well, what the author would refer to as "ball and stick" writing, not "joined up" letters. I've always found it easier to write with a pencil on paper...through my six years of university, every paper I've written was first drafted by hand. Maybe I thought that the author would be a kindred spirit. It's irrelevant now, as this book no longer has a place on my shelf.
I'm honestly not too sure how this book ended up on my shelf in the first place. Maybe because I'm one of those weirdoes who loves to write—well, what the author would refer to as "ball and stick" writing, not "joined up" letters. I've always found it easier to write with a pencil on paper...through my six years of university, every paper I've written was first drafted by hand. Maybe I thought that the author would be a kindred spirit. It's irrelevant now, as this book no longer has a place on my shelf.
October 23, 2017
The Missing Ink was a great disappointment. Philip Henisher spends most of the time jumping from topic to topic, going off on all sorts of tangents that are quite unrelated to handwriting. It's like he's down the pub with some friends having a few pints and regaling them with odd bits of history and literature. He thinks he's very entertaining, but really not so much. And if I have to hear one more story about his bloody fountain pen with its italic nib and it's refillable, pump-action, hydraulic-type reservoir, I might take a few nasty jabs at him with it.
Despite the disorganized nature of the book, there are a few good chapters:
Chapter 13 Hitler's Handwriting
"Hitler was one of the first people to give up writing by hand."
Chapter 18 Pens
Quills, steel pens, fountain pens, ink.
Chapter 26 Biros and Not-Biros
"Biros" are what the British call ballpoint pens. These pens were invented by a Hungarian named Lázló Biró, hence the name. They were improved upon by a Frenchman, Baron Marcel Bich, the maker of Bic pens.
Chapter 29 What Is to Be Done
The last chapter in the book and the best one. Here Hensher discusses the importance of handwriting, how it might be taught, how to get people to do more of it, and what an enjoyable activity it is. If only the rest of the book had been so straightforward and sincere.
Despite the disorganized nature of the book, there are a few good chapters:
Chapter 13 Hitler's Handwriting
"Hitler was one of the first people to give up writing by hand."
Chapter 18 Pens
Quills, steel pens, fountain pens, ink.
Chapter 26 Biros and Not-Biros
"Biros" are what the British call ballpoint pens. These pens were invented by a Hungarian named Lázló Biró, hence the name. They were improved upon by a Frenchman, Baron Marcel Bich, the maker of Bic pens.
Chapter 29 What Is to Be Done
The last chapter in the book and the best one. Here Hensher discusses the importance of handwriting, how it might be taught, how to get people to do more of it, and what an enjoyable activity it is. If only the rest of the book had been so straightforward and sincere.
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