A Project Gutenberg horror story
April 30, 2006 | 9:09 am
By Branko Collin
If–like me!–you love the feel of physical books, the way they smell, the sound they make when you rusttle through the pages; if you like the artifact almost as much as the book itself, because it is the print and the cover and the fact that it is always near you, and the fact that it has a history that reminds you of the marvelous story it contains; if the thought of destroying such a book horrifies you, do not read on.
Project Gutenberg owns a couple of highspeed scanners. They are responsible for a substantial part of the scanning that goes on at Distributed Proofreaders (my estimate: ca. 30 – 35 %). Basically, when somebody’s got more books than they can scan themselves, they ship them off to the operators of the high speed scanners.
Part of what makes these devices highspeed is that they are sheet fed. As you may realize by now, books do not come in loose sheets. So the operators cut the spines with a so-called guillotine cutter. What happens to the dismembered book corpses after we’re done with them I don’t know. I am not sure I want to know.
I was reminded of this when I had to cut open a 1911 edition of Joost van den Vondel‘s Noah (1667). Not something I did without hesitation, but I figured that if nobody had bothered to read the book these past 96 years, the best thing I could probably do for it is to make sure it can be read for the first time through Project Gutenberg.
(Illustration: the front page of Vondel’s Noah. The little flap that sticks out at the top is the silent witness of a particularly careless cut I made.)
Related: Automatic digitization with … Lego, and If you could scan your library, and 5 Years of Distributed Proofreaders.



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Comments:
A “careless cut” is a very small price to pay to preserve a book that, in who knows how many years, would probably be lost to the ages.
Thanks!
As I go to the various university libraries in my city and prowl the used book and thrift stores I come across may books with many careless cuts. Along with many books whose pages never have been cut. I would say that the larger sin would be to have a book with uncut pages. I came across one the other day that had a publishing date from 1750 with uncut pages. That is a crime. When one is scanning books who often has to make a decision if it is necessary to destroy one copy of a book in order to say the contents.
I am surprised that it was necessary to cut the spine of the book for scanning. Teleread had a story story dated February 25th that discussed book scanning technology. The scanners depicted used cradles and cameras that apparently did not require the removal of the book spine. Allowing a book to remain intact during conversion to electronic form is a desirable goal I think. Perhaps the “horror story” you mention could be avoided if philanthropic funding for new scanners could be found. Alternatively, perhaps some organization with a “non-destructive” scanner could be enticed to donate services.
“Perhaps the “horror story” you mention could be avoided if philanthropic funding for new scanners could be found. Alternatively, perhaps some organization with a “non-destructive” scanner could be enticed to donate services.”
Ay, there’s the rub.
Another problem is that not every book is suited for automatic scanning, for instance because they have fold-outs, or the paper is moist or frayed.
And you have no idea of how slow things can move in a volunteer organisation. It’s not a matter of telling John that he should be scouting for donations, and telling Mary that she should contact universities to provide access to their automatic scanners. PG and DP don’t hold that kind of sway over John and Mary.
Things at Project Gutenberg get done, because somebody decides on their own to do a thing.
Actually, I can sympathize with your comments about volunteer-based organizations since I have been a participant in such groups and have witnessed progress outpaced by glaciation. In any case, the “Project Gutenberg” and “Distributed Proofreaders” people certainly deserve praise. Thanks Branko Collin!
The trick with DP is to cast a net–pun intended–to pick up volunteers with a wide variety of interest and priorities so that, yes, things do happen. In this, Charles and Juliet have succeeded brilliantly. Give PG’s Michael Hart credit, too, even if I prefer the DP approach. Anyway we’re going to keep writing up DP not just because it’s newsworthy but to help ‘em reel in more volunteers. If any DP folks have interesting succeess stories, pass ‘em on to Branko for publicity here. Since PG is the main outlet for DP, that should help both groups. David
Actually, I have no such abstract attachments to paper. It doesn’t provide larger print for my eyes (without a special version) and it can give you those nasty little cuts that sting and never heal. Those that have an attachment to the physical nature of paper have nothing more than a mental nostalgic reaction to all of the good experiences they attribute to their book reading experience. Now if a significant book has weathered the sands of time, then it should be preserved for historical motives, which a different discussion all together. The real value is the words printed on them.
To illustrate that point: do you think the pressman had any reservations about throwing out one of these books that was botched on the press. Probably not. He pitched it and moved on to the next one. He didn’t mourn the loss of that wonderful book and how it felt in his hands. The next book to be printed would provide the medium to deliver the words of the author; its sole purpose. Likewise, any elevated importance attributed to abstract or tangible qualities of the book are nothing but mental projections of importance.
I say cut the spine and share the knowledge with the world. To restrict the access to the great words of our time is a far greater tragedy.
The pressman has no emotional attachment to the book because he has no attachment to its contents. He has had no chance to develop that nostalgic reaction. But what if it had been a book he had read, and what if he knew that that imperfect print was the last available copy on the planet?
Anyway, the point is moot for the book shown above, as I found out that the copyright for the editor won’t expire for another 39 years.
Among so many other things, books are vehicles. I’ve always liked how in English we often refer to portions of text as “passages”. The reading experience is similar to taking a journey from one place and ending up at a destination. (not always the destination we expected, and we are frequently transformed in the process
Some folks here are very endeared to their cars – the first car, the SUV that once hauled the kids to soccer games , their spiffy new BMW etc. Others just see a thing with wheels that gets them from one place to another.
If we’re smart here at the brink of this new digital book world, we can have it both ways. Some copies of a book may be dis-membered for digitization while others are preserved as true ‘books’ with all their esthetics. (until they are dust of course) It doesn’t have to be an either / or situation and hopefully won’t. My German grandmother witnessed book-burnings and the impression remained her whole life. She instilled in us her reverence for books as almost sacred objects – not to be defaced with writing or even dog-eared!
I have a “digitize everything – *now*” mentality. For me, digitization is a sort of immortality for books. For a true book-lover it is probably something more akin to embalming.
Great comments Branko and Jake. I wonder if our children will acquire similar feelings of the warm soft glow of the backlit screen and the feelings of the smooth forward/back buttons with their embossed directional arrows. The comfort to have access to the meaning of a word at the click of a button. I am not discounting the importance of the full reading experience, I am just saying it is based on personal experience.
Bottom line, if the book in question is a rare find, then by all means leave it intact and carefully take a high res digital photo of each page, one page at a time, turning pages carefully in between. Otherwise, crank ‘em out in digital.
I’ve worked in a Rare book library. I know of the collectors of uncut books. Many books were sold uncut in past centuries. People set aside a knife to unlock the contents of the book. I can’t remember who, maybe Wordsworth or Keats, used a butter knife to get at the next page. Some publishers now leave the forage of the block ragged in a silly imitation of the uncut book. Books are meant to be read. Just be careful when unlocking their contents.