Object Lessons is a series of short, beautifully designed books about the hidden lives of ordinary things.
Why do we sign our names? How can a squiggle both enslave and liberate? Signatures often require a witness-as if the scrawl itself is not enough. What other kinds of beliefs and longings justify our signing practices?
Signature addresses these questions as it roams from a roundtable on the Greek island of Syros, to a scene of handwriting analysis conducted in an English pub, from a wedding in Moscow, where guests sign the bride's body, to a San Franciscan tattoo parlor interested in arcane forms.
The signature's history encompasses ancient handprints on cave walls, autograph hunters, the branding of slaves, metaphysical poetry, medical malpractice, hip-hop lyrics, legal challenges to electronic signatures, ice cores harvested from Greenland, and tales of forgery and autopens.
Part cultural chronicle, part travelogue, Signature pursues the identifying marks made by people, animals, and planetary forces, revealing the stories and fantasies hidden in their signatures.
Object Lessons is published in partnership with an essay series in The Atlantic .
One of the things about this series is it never fails to surprise me. Based on the novella titles, you think you've got a good idea what to expect but the authors are pretty good at throwing a some surprise twists in there. Sometimes angles, concepts and ideas I would never have even considered.
Although missing some of the whimsy I've come to expect with this series, Signature, covers a wide variety of touch-points that makes for engaging reading. I wasn't a huge fan of the writing style. Often it read like a cross between a waffling memoir and a high school essay assignment, ranging from rambling to chunky information dumps. However, it wasn't too much of a distraction and I've got to give extra points for someone dedicated enough to their research task to get inked in the process. Respect.
Thank you to Netgalley and Bloomsbury Academic for the ARC.
Consider the autograph – a thing we all ought to have, and probably will have at least two of. Let me elaborate. One year my mother and I got the token annual contact from my distant brother, and were both astounded to see him, a man probably in his thirties, having changed his signature entirely at some point, to the extent that what he put on bank cheques was now authorised to look like the novel arrangement, which was much more like an ECG trace than some natural presentation of the letters in his name. OK, that change doesn't apply to you? Well, my acting colleague of zero national renown, fame or interest, always insisted that anybody in the public eye should have the one autograph his banks and lawyers knew, and that anything signed for fans, passing people or just kids happy to have been given an afternoon off proper school lessons to watch our show, should look entirely different. (I think he must be on to something – I know it's a time constraint as well, but all the illegible squirks pop stars, tennis players et al sharpie on to things fit the bill.) Never felt the need to have a public and private autograph? I guess you've never had to practice your new moniker when you've got married then – it's one of the first things you do. And if not, well then, go to the dentists and sign in on an iPad. You'll never get anything like what you sign with paper and pen. So you do have two autographs, like it or not. And that's before you've collected anyone else's.
That's a cod, introductory look at autographs, and this book does offer something like that, written much better than mine. But it also covers a whole lot more – to the extent it would be very hard pushed to find a general reader on board for all of its contents. We get the personal autograph, of course, and how Victorians started to collect it, just as theories were being drawn up about how handwriting gave away character, and even future, uncommitted, crime. We get literary references, that combine Drake with John Donne in expert ways. We also get the hand marks that accompany prehistoric cave art, climate signatures as seen in ice cores, and a heck of a lot more. The book covers each and every way we leave a mark, a memento, an excretion that might in some fashion be traced back to us. It's a book that perfectly fulfils its self-designed remit, then, and fits into this series very well (of books designed to focus on subjects you'd never predict you would read a whole book about). But boy is it a bit scattershot in seeming to go so far to little conclusion. I'm not in fact sure what I gained from these pages, then, but the author did make his mark on my afternoon's reading.
Signature from Hunter Dukes is part of Bloomsbury Academic's Object Lessons series. This volume connects the many different meanings and uses of the word signature to both Dukes' life and the world as it functions.
I should probably mention that the Object Lessons series appeals to me for the very reason some people may be turned off by some volumes. Each author is given a lot of leeway to approach the subject, or object, as they see fit. This leads to a wide variety of approaches, as well as a very broad working definition of what qualifies as an "object" for this purpose. I enjoy approaching each volume wondering if I am going to get mostly a straightforward discussion of the dominant or most common usage or whether the book may be almost memoirish with the object serving as a touchstone. There is almost always some form of linguistic and/or etymological analysis, which also appeals to me. So, now that you have an idea of what the series is and know that I am very much the target readership, this book.
Think about how you use the word or concept of signature. Of course we sign things, and celebrity autographs fetch good money in certain circles. What about artwork? Paintings, for example, are signed by the artist but are also recognizable by the artist's style, which serves as a type of signature. Our DNA? These and other examples are covered here through stories both historical and personal.
If you enjoy thinking about how the connection between an object, broadly defined, and the word that describes it can change over time or serve very different functions, this book will likely appeal to you.
Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley.
Object Lessons published by Bloomsbury is a series of short and beautifully designed books about the hidden lives of ordinary things. It's one of my favourite series, and I'm always thrilled when there is a new release to be published. Signature by Hunter Dukes is conceived as part cultural history, part travelogue that pursues the marks made by people and animals, revealing the stories hidden in their signatures. Dukes addresses anthropological and sociological questions, such as why we sign our names, signature as both a presence and an absence, and historical signing practices. For example, did you know that first detected "signatures", meaning handprints, predate Homo Sapiens? 😲 The reader is taken on a journey from the Greek island of Syros, to interviewing an autograph collector in London (the same man being memorialised in a book by Zadie Smith), from a wedding in Moscow where guests sign the bride's body, to a San Franciscan tattoo parlour. I found the subject utterly fascinating, although I'm not sure the short format was quite right for this book. There were dozens of references on each page, and the flow wasn't quite there. Nevertheless, it's a highly exciting read.
Can't wait to see what's coming next in this series. 💛
Thanks to the publisher and #NetGalley for my advanced copy of #Signature.
One of the excellent things about this series is that the authors are given free rein to approach their subjects however they wish. However, this can sometimes mean that the book you read is not the book you were expecting.
This book was a bit of a curates egg for me - good in parts. I enjoyed the interview with the autograph collector, but it was over too soon in favour of some quasi-philosophical musings about some bloke the author had met on holiday which was only very tangentially related to the subject of signatures. There seemed a lot more about body tattoos than there was about written signatures, which I found strange.
To sum up: it’s worth a read, but you may not discover much about signatures along the way.
Thanks to the author, publisher and NetGalley for providing a review copy in exchange for honest feedback.