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The Epistolary Form: A Familiar

by Krista Sharp

BFA in Art and Visual Technology, January 2005, George Mason University

A Thesis Submitted to

The Faculty of The Columbian College of Arts and Sciences of the George Washington University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts

May 15, 2016

Thesis directed by

Kerry McAleer-Keeler Associate Professor of Art and the Book

© Copyright 2016 by Krista Sharp All rights reserved

ii Acknowledgements

I would first like to thank my instructors at the Corcoran School of the Arts and

Design at George Washington University. Their dedication and unwavering support has guided me throughout my time in this graduate program. I would like to especially thank my thesis advisor and program director Kerry McAleer-Keeler who was always available when questions needed to be answered and provided invaluable feedback.

I would also like to thank Mark Dimunation and the entire staff in the Rare Book

Reading Room at the Library of Congress for their help suggesting and finding some of the artists’ books that are explored within this paper.

Finally, I must express my very profound gratitude to my parents for providing me with unlimited support and continuous encouragement throughout my studies. And a very special thank you to my husband, Craig Miller and my daughter Charlie who put up with the late nights and weekends away at studio in order for me to pursue my passion. Without you both none of this would be possible or worth it. Thank you.

iii Abstract of Thesis

The Epistolary Form: A Familiar Fiction

During the 18th century, the was criticized for a lack of representation of reality and in turn a public distrust of fiction was established. The epistolary form addressed these issues by presenting a that was bound by a real-life structure that allowed for the illusion of reality and authenticity. Today, this distrust of fiction is nonexistent but the epistolary form is still present and a frequently used literary device, providing the real-life structure for an escape from reality. However, while commercial fiction has embraced the form and moved past the historical justification of the epistolary novel, most artists’ books have not. This paper will prove how the artist book has struggled to move past the historical epistolary form and what lessons it can take from the world of contemporary commercial fiction.

iv Table of Contents

Acknowledgements ...... iii

Abstract ...... iv

List of Figures ...... vi

Introduction ...... 1

Epistolary Discourse ...... 3

Epistolary History ...... 7

The Contemporary Epistolary Form ...... 13

The Epistolary Form in Commercial Fiction ...... 13

The Epistolary Form in Artists’ Books ...... 18

Conclusion ...... 27

Figures ...... 29

Bibliography ...... 63

v List of Figures

Figure 1. Nick Bantock, Sabine’s Notebook, 1992. Collection of the author. Photo by author ...... 29

Figure 2. Nick Bantock, Griffin & Sabine: An Extraordinary Correspondence, 1991. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 29

Figure 3. Nick Bantock, Sabine’s Notebook, 1992. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 30

Figure 4. Nick Bantock, Griffin & Sabine: An Extraordinary Correspondence, 1991. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 30

Figure 5. Nick Bantock, Griffin & Sabine: An Extraordinary Correspondence, 1991. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 31

Figure 6. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 32

Figure 7. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 33

Figure 8. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 34

Figure 9. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 35

Figure 10. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 36

Figure 11. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 37

Figure 12. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author ...... 38

Figure 13. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 39

Figure 14. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 40

Figure 15. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 41

vi Figure 16. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 42

Figure 17. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 43

Figure 18. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 44

Figure 19. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 45

Figure 20. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 46

Figure 21. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 47

Figure 22. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 48

Figure 23. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 49

Figure 24. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 50

Figure 25. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author ...... 51

Figure 26. Tatiana Ginsberg, I Fear We Must Go, 2015, unbound sheets of handmade paper with lithograph printed images. Photo printed with permission of the artist...... 52

Figure 27. Tatiana Ginsberg, I Fear We Must Go, 2015, unbound sheets of handmade paper with lithograph printed images. Photo printed with permission of the artist...... 52

Figure 28. Tatiana Ginsberg, I Fear We Must Go, 2015, unbound sheets of handmade paper with lithograph printed images. Photo printed with permission of the artist...... 53

vii

Figure 29. Jeffery Morin, My Darling, My Reason, 2006, bound book, Sailor Boy Press. Photo printed with permission of the artist...... 53

Figure 30. Jeffery Morin, My Darling, My Reason, 2006, bound book, Sailor Boy Press. Photo printed with permission of the artist...... 54

Figure 31. Jeffery Morin, My Darling, My Reason, 2006, bound book, Sailor Boy Press. Photo printed with permission of the artist...... 54

Figure 32. Jeffery Morin, My Darling, My Reason, 2006, bound book, Sailor Boy Press. Photo printed with permission of the artist...... 54

Figure 33. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress...... 55

Figure 34. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress...... 56

Figure 35. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress...... 57

Figure 36. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress...... 58

Figure 37. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress...... 59

Figure 38. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress...... 60

Figure 39. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress...... 61

Figure 40. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress...... 62

viii

ix Introduction

Before there was Netflix, before TV, before radio, there was the novel. This form of entertainment has been around for centuries, and one—that despite today’s technological advances—is still going strong. Reader’s today think of the book as an escape, as a way to access another world, real or imaginary. From a young age, kids are taught that books can take you anywhere and are encouraged to read many different kinds of fiction in order to increase reading comprehension as well as vocabulary. Also, there are a variety of studies that link reading fiction to improvements in social perception and emotional intelligence1, an increase in empathy2, and an increase in comfort with uncertainty that allows for higher-level thinking and creativity.3 Overall, the novel has kept readers’ attention, through fictional places, times, and characters, and allowed one to delve headfirst into a world of make-believe for the benefit of one’s entertainment. However, this has not always been the case.

During the novel’s early beginnings in the 18th century, the novel was looked down upon as not worthy of one’s attention and certainly not something someone of respect would dare be caught reading. Because of the perceived lack of morality in the works and that a lack of representation of reality was essentially trying to pull the wool over one’s eyes, a distrust of fiction was established. In order for the novel to become more trustworthy and respectable, only true stories from reputable origins were

1 David Comer Kidd and Emanuele Castano, “Reading Literary Fiction Improves Theory of Mind,” Science 342, no. 6156 (2013): 377–380.

2 Raymond A. Mar, Keith Oatley, and Jordan B. Peterson, “Exploring the link between reading fiction and empathy: Ruling out individual differences and examining outcomes,” Communications: The European Journal of Communication Research, (2009): 421.

3 Maja Djikic, Keith Oatley, and Mihnea C. Moldoveanu, “Opening the Closed Mind: The Effect of Exposure to Literature on the Need for Closure,” Creativity Research Journal 25, no. 2 (2013): 149–154.

1 considered. The most common origin of a narrative was found in the presence of letters that would find their way into a ’s possession. The epistolary form was used to address these issues of distrust and respectability by presenting the narrative bound by a real-life structure that allowed for the illusion of reality and authenticity. While the move from the epistolary novel to the first-person narrative was a fairly fast transition, the epistolary novel is still frequently used as a literary device, providing the real-life structure for an escape from reality.

Today, commercial fiction is embracing the form and has moved past the idea that the epistolary novel must be based on real or historical correspondence. Through different mediums, including social media, and genres the epistolary form has taken on a new life as a strategic device. However, while commercial fiction has moved past the historical justification of the epistolary novel, most artists’ books have not. The artist book is still struggling to move past the historical epistolary form, bound to the content for sake of historical record and understanding. With the variety of form within artists’ books, including the mediums and processes at the artists’ disposal, an epistolary work in the hands of these artists would be assumed to create something more than the object, but the majority of those that embrace this form do not. Book artists should look to contemporary commercial fiction, see how the epistolary form has evolved through the genres and mediums of the commercial world, and apply the lessons learned to artists’ books.

2 Epistolary Discourse

The definition of what makes a novel epistolary in form historically consists of a narrative told through the medium of letters. These could be from one side of the conversation, with only the writer featured, or they could include the entire correspondence. Complicating it a bit further, not only is correspondence considered, but and other ephemeral items such as articles or announcements can also be included with the letters. One of the most well-known examples of this would be Bram

Stoker’s . Not only is the story told through the writing of letters but it also uses diary entries, ships logs, and newspaper articles that weave throughout the narrative.

With today’s current communication technologies the epistolary format has become more than just the antiquated but familiar letter. Text messages, email, social media, blogs, and online forums and comment threads have taken on epistolary characteristics and are the epistolary form of today.

The epistolary format can encapsulate a variety of characteristics and adapt to many literary genres, but there are specific characteristics that the narrative must adopt to maintain the epistolary form. The characteristics provide a guideline that in turn informs the discourse of the epistolary form. Three of the main characteristics of the epistolary format are: (1) the work must have a specific addressee, (2) the addressee must a role in the narrative, and (3) the novel or is always told in .4

For the work to be considered epistolary in form, an official addressee must be established. The addressee is defined as to whom the correspondence that makes up the narrative is directed at. In the historical form, this usually included what is now thought

4 Janet Gurkin Altman, Epistolarity: Approaches to a Form (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1982), 117.

3 to be cliché,5 the lover, the friend, or one’s family member who is separated by either distance or circumstance. In these , the usually writes the friend, lover or confidant and gives a day-by-day depiction of events—the most successful include letters where the addressee is another and not merely an observer.6

Because the need for an addressee is so important to deem a work epistolary, , and memoir- are usually not considered part of the epistolary discourse because the writer is not speaking to anyone specific. However, this does not mean that all diary novels are automatically not considered to be in the epistolary format. Some of the most successful and highly developed forms of the letter novel contain both event and memoir letters or journal entries.7 An example of this highly developed format is the aforementioned Dracula in where the narrator frequently changes from multiple characters’ journal and diary entries, which are very detailed and exhausted, to shorter letters inserted between. Also, in the case of using log or journal entries, these might be considered personal and thus not directed to anyone but the author could also be addressing those who might find it in the future. For example, in the contemporary novel

The Martian, the main story is told through personal logs of the main character, Mark

Watney. While this may seem to be a diary novel or memoir, Mark’s log addresses people who might eventually find it, such as NASA or his former crewmates. This is important to remember because for the work to be considered epistolary the addressee must

5 Robert Adams Day, Told in Letters (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1966), 49.

6 Vivienne Mylne, The Eighteenth –Century French Novel: Techniques of Illusion (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965), 151.

7 Ibid., 149.

4 constantly be present. The epistolary form presents a desire for exchange, and that exchange does not need to be shown, but a call for a response is necessary.8

While the addressee might not need to be present in the form of exchange, he is there to play a specific role in the narrative. The I to you or you to I relationship often establishes who the main character or main focus will be.9 However, the I does not necessarily have to be the main character. Also, what can be found in this form and not a first-person narrative is the dynamic nature of the narrative. The addressee can quickly become the addresser by the change in correspondence, allowing for a different viewpoint and a different perspective. The idea of the addressee playing a role becomes even more complex if the external reader is taken into account. Then, three points of view exist: that of the letter or correspondence writer, that of the intended or actual recipient and that of the outside reader.10

The idea of time is the last but probably the most important factor to keep in mind when analyzing the epistolary form. “To write a letter is to map one’s coordinates— temporal, spatial, emotional, intellectual—in order to tell someone else where one is located at a particular time and how far one has traveled since the last writing.”11 Time here does not only apply within the constraint of hours ticking by but layered with the present state of one’s mind and physical space.

With the epistolary, the communication is always written in the present tense, unlike first-person narration, in which events might have already happened that are

8 Altman, Epistolarity: Approaches to a Form, 89.

9 Ibid., 120.

10 Ibid., 111.

11 Ibid., 119.

5 explained outside of the story or events in the future.12 There is also immediacy with the letter in that events are happening now and that the future is unknown. Samuel

Richardson—whose novels, Pamela and Clarissa are looked to as some of the leading examples of the historical epistolary form—discussed “writing to the moment” and how the sense of immediacy and spontaneity plunge the reader into a moment so they, in turn, feel the urgency of the events narrated as they happen to the person who is experiencing them.13 Because of this unknown future, there is also a preoccupation with the future. Every word that is written while in the present is focusing on what will happen in the future; even the correspondence will be read in the future, so it is always in the mind of the writer. What will happen in between this letter being sent and it’s reading is something that not only plagues the epistolary form but can also be used to create moments of tension and .

Because of the need for the narrative to be in the present tense and the tension that is created between the ungraspable now, past, and future, a series of impossibilities must be addressed. First, the narrated event is never being told at the specific time of the event. Word choice is critical so that the present tense is always maintained. Second, the present time is but a moment and soon will be the past, which enhances the immediacy of the dialogue. Third, the present at which the correspondence is being read is not the same present in which it was written. It could be assumed events are taking place that both the internal reader and the external reader are not aware of.14 As it is shown, time and space thoroughly complicate the narrative in the epistolary form, but as much as it complicates it is necessary to the form as it provides the tension and authenticity to the story that will unfold.

12 Ibid., 123.

13 Ibid., 124.

14 Ibid., 129.

6 Epistolary History

The epistolary form laid the groundwork for what would eventually become the preferred method of narration, the first-person narrative. The epistolary format had a short stint as the leading form of narration from its rise in the 17th century until its peak and steep decline in the 18th century. To understand this rise in popularity in the form during this time, one must focus on France.

Two theories surfaced regarding the novel’s development, the Improvement

Theory and the Enjoyment Theory. The components of the two theories had been developed mainly for the genres of theater and painting in order to come to terms with reality and authenticity.15 First, the Improvement Theory stated that novels “could provide a model of behavior for society” and that “the novel should aim at the edification of the reader.”16 For this to take place, the reader would need to be reached through emotional stimuli. The only way man could be touched by a work of literature would be if he were to actually believe in it.17 The Enjoyment Theory states that novels are meant to please and entertain, but this also takes into account the idea of truth and belief in that it was maintained by some that one’s enjoyment was increased if the story they were reading is thought to be true.18 Whatever the case may have been, the idea of truth is what set about the rise of the epistolary novel during this time.

During this period, works of fiction were not thought of as a respectable form of literature. It was argued that these works were a source of corruption and that reading

15 Mylne, The Eighteenth-Century French Novel, 3.

16 Ibid., 4.

17 Ibid.

18 Ibid., 7.

7 them was considered a frivolous pastime,19 that not only readers tried to hide, but the of these novels did not want themselves or their names associated them.20 These criticisms were based on not only moral grounds—claiming that the novels did nothing to improve the reader’s —but that they “glorified the un-Christian idea of honor” and inflamed the thoughts of readers with stories of love and passion.21 However, the main accusation about the moral obligation of the novel was based upon the confusion between fiction and falsehood.22 It was thought that if a writer were telling a story that was not in any way based on true events, then the work itself would be considered immoral. Modern also attests that speech is assumed to be authentic, whereas writing is deemed derivative and can be seen as artificial.23 The writers of this time learned how to create works that were able to give the impression of truth and authenticity.

Both the letter novel and the memoir or diary novel became popular because of this idea of truth. However, it must be stated that while the truth was deemed important, and it was that which was being betrayed, most of the works produced were not what we would today consider completely true stories but more ‘based on true events.’24 In order to get around what would be considered a lie or something of unauthentic origin, a writer would often have to invent the history of where or how he obtained the story. This origin story was typically included in the foreword or prologue of the book, and usually

19 Ibid., 11.

20 Ibid., 15.

21 Ibid., 12.

22 Ibid.

23 Rodger D. Sell, Literature as Communication (Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 2000), 85.

24 Mylne, The Eighteenth-Century French Novel, 28.

8 involved clichéd stories such as ‘these letters I inherited from…’ or ‘I found these letters in an old trunk.’25 The became as important as the actual stories being told in that they gave the foundation for the credibility of the story.

Most of the letter fiction of this time was indeed that, fiction. While there were claims to validity of the letters used for the basis for these moral and virtuous tales, more often than not these letters were made up. Today, it is easy to look back and say that yes, these were made up, how would one have both sides of a correspondence? During the

17th and 18th centuries, it was common practice to preserve all letters, sometimes including copies that one had sent, and to pass on to one’s friends.26 People would pass letters down, and they became part of one’s family documents. These letters would get passed down through generations, so the idea of someone having access to any number of a series of letters was not as far-fetched as it seems now.

The illusion of authenticity is what the epistolary form brought to the novel. It allowed stories to be told using the real-life form of the letter, something that the 17th or

18th-century reader would be familiar with. Because some novels were created from real letters, while others were not, it was easy to keep this illusion going even if in the end it was not fooling anyone. Also presenting the truth was not held to the standard we think of today. Many times the editors and translators of letters assumed they had every right to change or to improve the texts. 27

The idea of deception was never intended. When compared to painting or theatre, even if someone “accepts the impression of reality it does not generally become the

25 Altman, Epistolarity: Approaches to a Form, 111.

26 Mylne, The Eighteenth-Century French Novel, 146.

27 Ibid., 29.

9 illusion of reality.”28 The epistolary form when it was in its infancy needed a certain framework for the story to be viewed as an authentic source of morality and one that could be trusted. As the form evolved, the need to present the origins of the fictional correspondence was abandoned and eventually the need to use the epistolary form would no longer be desired.

Though the rise of the epistolary form was credited as mostly a French innovation, the English form of the epistolary novel also flourished during this time.

Most of the French novels were translated into English, but the rise of the epistolary novel in England also had its own developmental roots. It is thought that the rise of the

English epistolary form emerged not out of a need for authenticity but was directly tied to drama or theatre and in fact, many of the writers of this new form had been playwrights.29 Plays were read much like fiction is read today and just as the early novel was looked down upon as foolish and morally inept form of entertainment, plays were too. The leap from stage to letter novel was not a great one. Many of the elements common to plays are seen in the epistolary form. For example, the events on stage are played out in present time with the characters only aware of what is going on at that moment without knowledge of the future. Also, many of the speeches and monologues that were frequently used within the drama cannon to illustrate a character’s thoughts or internal narration provided an organic transition to the letter form.

Perhaps the most popular and well-regarded epistolary novels were from . The novels, Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded and Clarissa by Samuel Richardson, are thought of as the most stylistically important and most successful of the epistolary format. Pamela was first published in 1740 and did not stray far from the epistolary

28 Robert Stam, Reflexivity in Film and Literature: from Don Quixote to Jean-Luc Godard (New York: Columbia University Press), 35.

29 Day, Told in Letters, 195.

10 conventions that were already in place. It is interesting to note that Richardson had stated that he knew nothing of the French novelists whose form he was ultimately imitating but he probably was familiar with various translations of other epistolary works.30 Pamela became extremely popular during its time. Not only did the story cater to the frivolous and the purveyors of the romantic, it also appealed to the more sober persons who would read for its moral instruction and was something new in fiction in that one could read it without embarrassment or shame.31 While Pamela proved extremely popular it was Richardson’s novel Clarissa that became what would be considered the peak of the epistolary form. In this exhaustive seven-volume novel,

Richardson expands on the form almost to the point that he forgets that his characters were sending .32 Before Clarissa, the letter novels written could have come from actual letters but after, writers began to mimic Richardson’s style of letters that were illustrated in the novels and became implausible because of their length and over explanatory nature.33

By the end of the 18th century, the epistolary form had fallen out of favor, and the novel had proved itself to be more than just a frivolous pastime. The first-person narrative started to gain in popularity and allowed for a more organic storytelling process. These formats were not under the same restraints as the epistolary novel. This doesn’t mean the format disappeared. Some notable books that were produced using this form before the twentieth century include the aforementioned Dracula, ’s

Frankenstein, and Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr.

Hyde. It is interesting to note that these three books are based in a world of

30 Ibid., 205.

31 Ibid., 207–208.

32 Ibid., 201.

33 Ibid., 203.

11 impossibilities and suspended beliefs, the opposite of what the epistolary novels of the

18th century were trying to do. This could be seen as the beginning of what the future would hold for the epistolary novel, a future of impossible or improbable realities told in the realistic and familiar form.

12 The Contemporary Epistolary Form

The Epistolary Form in Commercial Fiction

The contemporary epistolary form takes more into account than just the written letter. In the mid-1990’s a new form of written communication began to take hold, that being online messaging. Even in the infancy of the Internet there were different forms of communication happening. Online forums, chat rooms and email were all being used instead of the traditional letter form. While some contemporary epistolary fiction has embraced these and other new forms of communication even to the point where the communication form becomes the publishing platform, the traditional letter still has its place.

As in the epistolary form of the past, the reader of contemporary epistolary fiction is invited to not only observe but participate in the book34 and appears to be more prevalent than the historical epistolary form. One such successful example would be the

Griffin and Sabine series by Nick Bantock. The series spans over three books and features the correspondence between the two individuals that are separated by both distance and relationship in that they do not know each other but have a psychic or metaphysical connection. Bantock has embraced the epistolary form in this series to the extent that the letters and postcards are presented as printed facsimiles onto the pages

(fig. 1–2) complete with the back address and mailing methods (fig. 3)—stamps and cancelations—and in some cases providing actual envelopes that contain letters inside

(fig. 4–5), presenting the documents as fetishized authenticity35. The form presented here is based on the nostalgic notion of correspondence since in 1993 when these books were created, letter writing had waned. The postcards and letters presented in this book,

34 Robert Adams Day, Told in Letters (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1966), 6.

35 Sunka Simon, Mail-orders: The Fiction of Letters in Postmodern Culture (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2002), 199.

13 do look back to the historical version of the form but only in this need to present the correspondence as an authentic one by replicating it through text and image. Although here, the authenticity is somewhat lost because of the production methods. While the epistolary form aids in the books’ sense of urgency and mystery, the inability to embrace production methods that could have provided the reader with a more haptic and authentic experience instead provide the reader with a sterile, slick book were the illusion is lost.36

More modern forms of contemporary epistolary fiction do not even appear in the physical book form. In 2014 David Mitchell published a on Twitter. The Right

Sort is story that is narrated in the present tense by a boy that has taken his mother’s

Valium.37 While the story is published a tweet at a time from one person’s perspective, it is easy to see that the author was not using the medium to its fullest potential. The

Twitter format has its own unwritten rules and the way the story is ultimately told did not follow what one would expect when reading tweets. The story could be easily taken from Twitter and put in first-person narrative form and it would never be known that these came from a Twitter feed. Using social media as a medium for epistolary fiction can open the door to many possibilities, as long as the author has a thorough understanding of it. Before The Right Sort was published, David Mitchell had never used this medium as his character is, shouting into the void about one’s experiences.38

Social media creates this need for interaction something the epistolary form is based on. By using Twitter or a blog as a medium for the novel, interaction between not

36 Ibid, 200.

37 David Mitchell, Writer, The Right Sort, Twitter feed, July 13, 2014–July 20, 2014, https://twitter.com/sceptrebooks/timelines/488586138048004096.

38 Alison Flood, “Novelist David Mitchell publishes new short story on Twitter,” The Guardian, July 14, 2014, http://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/jul/14/david- mitchell-publishes-short-story-twitter.

14 only the characters could occur but interaction from the readers as well. Conversations could begin and the reader could potentially be a character further blurring the line between reality and the imaginary.

New communications mediums are not the only thing spurring the interest in the epistolary form. Different genres are embracing the as a storytelling device and it has proven to be particularly popular in one such genre, young adult fiction. Some suggest that when the letter format is used, the characters are allowed to have their own inner monologue constantly working, thus allowing them to work through their teenage angst.39 While this argument has validity, the current generation’s declining attention span due to the speed at which they expect to receive information and the frequent task switching between media devices is having an effect on how they consume material.40 In order to keep the attention of today’s youth, the epistolary format allows the conversation or dialogue between two or more correspondents to be broken down into smaller segments, similar to short stories. Another reason for the format’s frequent use is that the format is mimicking the familiar—like what was seen in the 17th and 18th century.

During that time, the letter was the familiar form of correspondence while today the popular form of communication is through small online posts, text messages or even limited further through 140 character tweets. Whatever the case is, the epistolary form is proving itself as an innovative form among a variety of genres.

Another genre that seems to have embraced the epistolary form is and its sub-genre, alternate future fiction. There are many examples of both of these, including science fiction short stories told in letter form that would have been found in

39 Emily Wasserman, “The Epistolary in Young Adult Literature,” The ALAN Review, Spring/Summer (2003): 48.

40 Kassandra Barnes, Raymond C. Marateo, and S. Pixey Ferris, “Teaching the Learning the Next Generation,” Innovate: Journal of Online Education 3, no. 4 (April/May 2007): 3.

15 science fiction magazines,41 classic science fiction like and post-apocalyptic stories such as The Post-Apocalypse Dead Letter Office and World War Z. These become grounded in reality through the use of the letter form by portraying people and events in this real and familiar form. One of the epistolary form’s defining characteristics—its need to take place in the present—creates a unique opportunity for the writers of science fiction. The ever obsessiveness of the future within the form somewhat gets resolved if the present takes place in the future, which is usually a staple of the genre. In the future where everything might be different, there is still the need for communication and the epistolary form can provide a structure for grounding the reader. This also plays to the historical version of the form in regards to truth and authenticity. By telling a story that is impossible not only through its characters but its location and time through the letter form, a certain validity is given to the content. The reader knows that what they are reading is fiction, but by using the epistolary form creates and illusion of reality and only enhances the reader’s ability to escape into the story.

Perhaps the most compelling way of using the epistolary form is by treating the work as the 18th century English writers did, as drama. The novel S. by J. J. Abrams and

Doug Dorst not only uses the epistolary form in an inventive way—the dialogue between the two main characters is shown as notes to each other through the marginalia—but it also uses another work of fiction to spur the interaction. The whole novel appears as a theatrical performance but one that the gets to participate in. The book itself has no markings indicating that it isn’t what it appears to be, which is a book that looks as if it was taken from a high-school library (fig. 6). The only indication that this is not an authentic object is the slipcover that the book arrives in (fig. 7). Once the book is opened and one flips through the pages, there is extensive marginalia in two distinctive

41 Isaac Asimov, “Space Mail,” 1980.

16 handwritings and a variety of colors of ink (fig. 8). There are also multiple ephemeral objects placed throughout the book including postcards, faxes, newspaper clippings, and even a napkin (fig. 9–12).

Within S. there are three stories going on at once. The first, what is being presented as the real novel, The Ship of Thesesus written by V. M. Straka who is presented as an eccentric writer who died a tragic and mysterious death. The second is the odd footnotes that appear throughout the story supposedly written by Straka’s editor

F. X. Caldeira which never really reference anything in the actual story but present cryptic messages about the author’s life and musings on who V. M. Straka might have been. The third is that between the book’s owner, a disgraced graduate student, and a current undergrad who happened to find the book and made her own notes in the margins. Together they begin to discuss the book by writing to each other within the margins of the book, looking for clues about the author and trying to solve the mystery of the novel.

It is not surprising that S. has taken on such dramatic and theatrical qualities— the lead force behind the creation of this book is J. J. Abrams, known for producing mystery based television series like Lost and blockbusters such as the Stark Trek movie reboots. According to Abrams, the project started as love letter to the book and was created to illustrate how a book can be more that just the words on the page.42 S. embraces what can make a book special not only as a form of entertainment but also as an object, and it does this through the epistolary form and the ideas that were established in the 18th century novels.

First, the novel is presented as a found object. This was essential to the beginning of the epistolary novel because it suggested authenticity. However, unlike most

42 Joshua Rothman, “The Story of ‘S’: Talking with J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst,” The New Yorker, November 23, 2013, http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/the- story-of-s-talking-with-j-j-abrams-and-doug-dorst.

17 epistolary fiction there is no set-up, no ‘note from the editor’ to tell the reader where this object came from. It is the found object and just as the reader was invited to participate in the novel by being the outside viewer, the reader has now become the possessor of the found object. Second, the authenticity of the object is meticulously created. Through the production and design process, this book feels like something unique and special. It doesn’t have the fetishized feeling that the Griffin and Sabine series had. The attention to detail within the handwritten notes and the ephemeral objects found within the pages appear as if they are unique to this book. Finally, the epistolary dialogue feels natural and real for the medium unlike Richardson’s impossible letters. It presents the epistolary form in a way that utilizes it to its full potential; creating a dynamic and engaging story that presents the reader with as much joy and engagement in the discovery of the book objects, as the characters’ engagement with book and each other.

Commercial fiction has embraced the epistolary form as an effective story telling device. Whether it is breaking away from the historical form entirely or reinventing it through alternate epistolary discourses and emerging technologies, readers are still embracing this narrative form that was established 300 years ago. Commercial books have also embraced the methods of production at their disposal, creating engaging experiences that not only allow the reader to participate through actual interaction with the objects that the characters reference but even with the characters themselves.

The Epistolary Form in Artists’ Books

Commercial novels are not the alone in their willingness to embrace the epistolary form, artists’ books frequently use the form but the difference between the two varies greatly. Commercial contemporary fiction seeks to use new mediums as epistolary storytelling devices and is also using the form to create levels of tension and suspense, but the artist’s book seems to be stuck. The artist book is staying true to the historical

18 form but without the imaginative innovations that the commercial world is embracing.

This not to say that all artists’ books are following this trend but with the contemporary communication mediums and publishing restrictions—including production processes— face by commercial books, one would expect the form to flourish beyond its origins when given the creative scope that is found within artists’ books.

The epistolary artists’ books tend to focus mainly on what was eventually thought of as a cliché in the historical epistolary form, that of the found letter. These letters are found in old trunks, in flea markets or even journals that have been kept for historical and academic reasons. However, while the found letter was used to establish the authenticity of the text that was being presented to the reader in 18th century France and in most cases was used as a justification for the made-up text, there is no reason to doubt the origins of the letters and journals of the artists’ books. These books are not being used as a form of entertainment, or trying to create a suspenseful narrative, these books are presenting the lives of people that no longer have a voice and the artist is using this medium to tell their story, in their words. While this may seem like a noble cause or a worthwhile endeavor, one can’t help but wonder if the reader’s experience could be enhanced by the mediums and methods artists have at their disposal, or perhaps take cues from the commercial world and break away from reality.

Maureen Cummins’s artist book, Far Rockaway, embodies many of the characteristics of the historical epistolary novel but the presentation is not the same. The letters that are featured in the book were purchased by the artist at a Manhattan flea market and, according to the exhaustive prologue to the book, she found the executor of the will of the owner of the letters and got permission to use them.43 There is no indication that the background story of these found letters is not true (and there is no doubt that it is), but in true epistolary fashion there is still the need to substantiate what

43 Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway (2005), vii.

19 the reader is about to read and experience. Unlike the epistolary books from the past, the intent here seems not to authenticate the text but to give historical context and importance. The letters tell the love story between two men in the early 20th century featuring only one side of the correspondence. The reader can only guess at what the response to the letters was or if there had been a return of correspondence. The names of the two men and some other various details have been changed by the artist per the wishes of the will executor, although this is not the only edit the artist made to the letters. In another nod to the historical epistolary form, not all of the letters are presented.44 The artist chose to edit what was included perhaps for brevity or to construct a more engaging narrative. The artist addresses this missing correspondence by giving brief introductions to each letter (fig. 13), providing context to what is about to be read. Some of these introductions have details that don’t seem like they would be found in a letter, making it almost unbelievable. Also, footnotes are included to give clarification for abbreviations among other things that the reader might not know. The artist openly admits to cutting passages that were redundant or that made references to people and situations that were not relative to the narrative that the artist was trying to present.45

The presentation of Far Rockaway is where the disconnect occurs between the content and the form. The deluxe edition features the letters offset printed and Coptic bound (fig. 14). The book is presented in a box with facsimiles of the actual letters unbound (fig. 15). The only in the book is a blown up vintage photo of beachgoers that has been hand-printed by the artist (fig. 16). The letters are typeset in a way that makes them easy to read but are void of any character or emotion because of the

44 Ibid., xi.

45 Ibid., xi.

20 mechanical and formulaic page layout and typeface choice (fig. 17). In the preface, the artist mentions her reason for picking up the letters was her initial attraction to the stationary and penmanship of the letters46, yet the only evidence of this the reader sees is in the form of printed copies loosely kept in the bottom of the deluxe edition (fig. 18).

The emotion and character that is seen in these printed facsimiles could have inspired the layout of the book, instead, the reader is left with a sanitized version of the story of a forbidden love.

Another artist book that is giving a voice to someone lost to history is Blitz by

Susan Allix. This artist book features letters from a young woman living in London during World War II at a time when the city was subject to nightly bombing raids. The book also features original imagery provided by the artist. Like the historical epistolary fiction these letters were found after the death of one of the sisters47. Unlike the historical epistolary fiction and Far Rockaway, this book does not open with a preface explaining the origins or the foundation for the letters, instead, the origins are relegated to one sentence in the colophon. There is no attempt to convince the reader of the official story or any elaboration of the truth. The letter selections are not explained so the viewer can only make assumptions to whether there were letters that were edited out or if any edits to the actual text have taken place.

Blitz also differs from Far Rockaway in its presentation. The artist is attempting to create a for the story, one that invokes a feeling of being in a war zone. Some of the paper is burned along the edges (fig. 19) and the typography sometimes takes on the feeling of the words (fig. 20) or even the of the letters. The imagery through out the book is made up of aquatints and photographs. The aquatints give the book an atmospheric quality (fig. 21–22) but the photos appear out of place and static (fig. 23).

46 Ibid., v.

47 Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014.

21 Like the Far Rockaway deluxe edition facsimiles of the letters are included but this time in small fragments printed on the page (fig. 24). This would be a welcome link to the origins of the text, however the images appear to be scanned at a very low resolution resulting in a pixelated image that is more distracting than engaging (fig. 25).

Overall the narrative discusses the day-to-day experiences of living in a war zone staying true to the epistolary form’s connection to the present tense. The tone in the letters is echoed by the imagery and typography, which differs from the precisely laid out

Far Rockaway. However, Blitz is still catering to the historical epistolary tradition by using the found letters as the basis and neglecting to expand beyond the literal.

Getting past the traditional epistolary form and the traditional book layout leads to more interesting attempts to bring the form to life. In Tatiana Ginsberg’s I Fear We

Must Go the artist uses letter excerpts from the Terra Nova expedition of 1910–1913 where five men perished while returning from their Antarctic exploration. The book is an unbound portfolio of handmade paper featuring printed images of leaves. The text is pulp painted into the paper.

The epistolary form is not as apparent as with the previous examples. The only text the viewer sees are small excerpts that the artist has taken from the letters. The standard format of the letter is abandoned and only fragments of the text remain. Unlike the previous examples, the text is painted into the paper but instead of using a typeface to accomplish this task a stencil of the actual handwriting is used so the words the viewer sees are in the original letter writer’s hand (fig. 26–27). The five images throughout the pages are shadows of leaves that were printed using lithography (fig. 28). They are to represent each of the men who died. Leaves were chosen because the men brought back specimens that contained fossilized plants. The paper is translucent allowing the viewer to see the shadows of the images and the text through it.

22 While this artist book derives its content from an epistolary source like the historical epistolary novels—recovered letters—the actual letter form is unapparent to the viewer. Only after reviewing the colophon would the viewer be aware that they were reading the text from letters. This is an inventive way to interpret the epistolary form, but the loss of the letter structure in defining the narrative poses a series of problems when comparing it to the characteristics of what makes a work epistolary. Also, while the original letters probably contained an addressee, these phrases don’t appear to be apart of any kind of dialogue and since there is the absence of the addressee, there is no role for them to take on in the dialogue.

The only epistolary characteristic that is found within I Fear We Must Go is the use of the present tense and the sense of urgency created through the words. However, unlike the previously mentioned Blitz and Far Rockaway the historical representation of the letter writer’s present time is no longer presented in a way that makes sense to the viewer but a new narrative is established. This allows the reader to project his or her own story or interpretation onto the pages and the viewer is left searching for meaning.

Ginsberg stated that she is drawn to the epistolary form because she “likes the way true stories come out in fragments, as threads of a story that you piece together.”48 While I

Fear We Must Go is most definitely a story that the reader must piece together which embraces the epistle’s ability to create a story that is not told to but uncovered by the reader, the epistolarity of the text becomes lost.

One artist book that appears to be more like the Far Rockaway and Blitz at first glance but then reveals an inventive way to reinterpret the original content is My

Darling, My Reason by Jeffery Morin. The book appears as a scrapbook, which could be considered a cliché for the epistolary form. Like all the previous examples the letters that

48 Tatiana Ginsberg, in discussion with the author, November 2015.

23 are printed within the book were from actual letters. According to the colophon, the letters came to the artist “in an anonymous way.”49 The letters are from a World War II solider writing to his wife, explaining the day-to-day life of being stationed abroad and surrounded by nothing but other men. The artist only uses the fragments of the letters but he has kept the original misspellings and grammatical errors in place. Like Far

Rockaway and Blitz the original writer’s hand, or as mentioned in the colophon, even the appearance of the type written pages have been removed and replaced by a simple typeface. The artist notes this intentional design decision in the colophon.50 The images throughout the book consist of photos of sailors attached with photo-corners as seen in actual scrapbooks (fig. 29), photos printed directed on to the pages (fig. 30), and small illustrations and stamps (fig. 31).

At first glance, the book appears to resemble Far Rockaway and Blitz in form, illustrating the life of particular person during a specific time—staying true to the historical origins of the epistolary novel by using real letters for the basis of the book and editing those letters to tell a specific story. And it is that, but the artist has taken it one step further. Alongside each of the letter fragments (in the same typeface but in red), the artist has taken it upon himself to write out the thoughts of the man writing the letters

(fig. 32). These are the thoughts imagined by the artist; no longer is the truth or the historical account guiding the narrative, but this imaginary escape into the mind of the individual. This attempt at breaking away from the norm, what artist books seem to have embraced about the form, the truth, creates a blurred reality. In turn, the reader is now questioning the truth behind the artist’s statements and the origins of the letters or, like the readers of the 18th century eventually did, no longer caring about the truth and becoming engrossed in the narrative. My Darling, My Reason, embraces the potential of

49 Jeffery Morin, My Darling, My Reason (Sailor Boy Press, 2006). 50 Ibid.

24 the epistolary form by stepping away from the faithful retelling of someone’s life through their words and instead dares to create an alternative and unique narrative.

While there appears to be some progress being made with the epistolary form in artists’ books by breaking away from the origin of the form, there is still this need to have content originating from a real-world source. It is as if the authenticity of the origins is the most important part of the work, the part that deserves the most emphasis. The rest of the book is there to support those origins and not in anyway to challenge it. In Morin’s book we see the artist begin to challenge this idea of truth and history by recreating and revising what is seen in the real letters. But what about the epistolary form itself in artist books, is there any way to reinvent it and breakaway from the authentic, like the evolution of commercial fiction?

In the deluxe edition of Rick Moody’s Surplus Value Books #13 the epistolary form is not as present as in the other examples listed above but the way the form is presented is truly unique and provides a glimpse of the epistolary potential of the artist book. The deluxe edition of the book consists of a box that resembles a door from a mental hospital (fig. 33). Inside this box is an envelope found tucked into a straight jacket like wrapping (fig. 34). The straight jacket wrapping is covering a printer’s galley tray that contains the press proof sheets of a bookseller’s catalog (fig. 35). Underneath this tray is a panel that has a hospital release checklist with holes punched through that allows the viewer to see the personal possessions of what are assumed to be the mental patient (fig. 36). The envelope from the top of the box contains a discharge letter from the hospital for the patient Rick Moody, a bookseller who suffers from manic depression and schizophrenia. Inside the envelope is also a prescription (fig. 37). The press sheets are from the bookseller’s most recent catalog. The text reveals that the bookseller assigns the value of the book by his own personal relationships with the authors and in the descriptions he offers his own account of events from each of the authors’ lives. The

25 press sheets also include marginalia (fig. 38), notes to the printer and notes to the author himself although most of them have been whited out (fig. 39) but because of the printing process the reader can still make out the words by impressions that were made into the paper. The objects found in the box are directly related to the stories the bookseller tells and serve as the visuals for the book (fig 40).

While it might be hard to determine the epistolary form within this book, the potential for the form is not hard to see. Surplus Value Books #13, not unlike J. J.

Abrams’s S., is trying to create an interactive experience for the reader. The viewer is being invited to participate in this book, investigating what is real, what isn’t and trying to figure out what the real narrative is supposed to be. Is the author crazy? Is this a real catalog? The objects that are found in the box are real, including a baseball card and a

Star Wars figure so why couldn’t the text be real too? All of these questions help blur the line between reality and the imaginary.

When looking at artists’ books that use ‘found’ letters, the author convinces the reader that whatever letters or other epistolary documents are both historical and factual, and in turn are predisposed to accept the history without question.51 The reader is no longer investigating the narrative but reading the text as a factual account with little room for interpretation. As shown in the commercial books Griffin and Sabine and S. and in the artist’s book Surplus Value, if artists want to truly embrace the epistolary form, they need to bring the reader into the narrative, not only as a confidant but also as a key player in defining the story.

51 Mylne, The Eighteenth-Century French Novel, 146.

26 Conclusion

Today’s readers’ expectations differ from the readers at the beginning of the novel’s development. They both look to reading for entertainment but for the readers of the past, the need for truth and authenticity took precedence over imagination and innovation. The epistolary form helped make the transition from the real to the imaginary and turned the novel into what it is today. The epistolary form is still in use and provides a new generation of readers with an engaging storytelling device. The commercial epistolary novel has moved on from its historical past and continues to keep within the boundaries of the epistolary form by utilizing new innovations in communication technology, attempting to engage readers of different genres by playing to their needs and expectations, and using production methods to their advantage. Also, taking a cue from the epistolary form’s historical connection with the dramatic, envisioning the form as an extension of theater or a movie screen allows for innovative approaches to the form.

The needs of the artist’s book to be bound to authentic and historical source material have hindered its ability to create a more dynamic and engaging experience. If artists were to look to the commercial versions of the epistolary form they would see that not only is it a narrative based on letters but it is a form that allows the reader to become a part of the story and, in turn, allows them to become engaged active participant in the work. As seen in the above, artist’s books are slowly making this transition. Morin’s My

Darling, My Reason is the perfect example how an artist can represent a story based on fact but create a new narrative that engages the reader not only through the addition of content but by creating additional tension within the correspondence. Artists’ books are poised to use the epistolary form in new ways, because of the mediums and processes at their disposal just as Moody’s Surplus Value and Abrams’ S. allows the experience to become part of the story through the use of materials and design. Moving past the idea

27 that only the truth and authenticity can create a more engaging and entertaining story, the artist book can finally utilize the full potential of the epistolary form.

28 Illustrations

Figure 1. Nick Bantock, Sabine’s Notebook, 1992. Collection of the author. Photo by author.

Figure 2. Nick Bantock, Griffin & Sabine: An Extraordinary Correspondence, 1991. Collection of author. Photo by author.

29

Figure 3. Nick Bantock, Sabine’s Notebook, 1992. Collection of author. Photo by author.

Figure 4. Nick Bantock, Griffin & Sabine: An Extraordinary Correspondence, 1991. Collection of author. Photo by author.

30

Figure 5. Nick Bantock, Griffin & Sabine: An Extraordinary Correspondence, 1991. Collection of author. Photo by author.

31

Figure 6. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author.

32

Figure 7. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author.

33

Figure 8. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author.

34

Figure 9. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author.

35

Figure 10. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author.

36

Figure 11. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author.

37

Figure 12. J. J. Abrams and Doug Dorst, S., 2013. Collection of author. Photo by author.

38

Figure 13. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

39

Figure 14. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

40

Figure 15. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

41

Figure 16. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

42

Figure 17. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

43

Figure 18. Maureen Cummins, Far Rockaway, 2005, Coptic bound book with loose printed letters in a box, 10” x 7”. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

44

Figure 19. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

45

Figure 20. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

46

Figure 21. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

47

Figure 22. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

48

Figure 23. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

49

Figure 24. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

50

Figure 25. Susan Allix, Blitz, 2014, leather bound book with letterpress printed type, burnt pages, photographs and aquatints, 33cm x 28cm. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

51

Figure 26. Tatiana Ginsberg, I Fear We Must Go, 2015, unbound sheets of handmade paper with lithograph printed images. Photo printed with permission of the artist.

Figure 27. Tatiana Ginsberg, I Fear We Must Go, 2015, unbound sheets of handmade paper with lithograph printed images. Photo printed with permission of the artist.

52

Figure 28. Tatiana Ginsberg, I Fear We Must Go, 2015, unbound sheets of handmade paper with lithograph printed images. Photo printed with permission of the artist.

Figure 29. Jeffery Morin, My Darling, My Reason, 2006, bound book, Sailor Boy Press. Photo printed with permission of the artist.

53

Figure 30. Jeffery Morin, My Darling, My Reason, 2006, bound book, Sailor Boy Press. Photo printed with permission of the artist.

Figure 31. Jeffery Morin, My Darling, My Reason, 2006, bound book, Sailor Boy Press. Photo printed with permission of the artist.

Figure 32. Jeffery Morin, My Darling, My Reason, 2006, bound book, Sailor Boy Press. Photo printed with permission of the artist.

54

Figure 33. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

55

Figure 34. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

56

Figure 35. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

57

Figure 36. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

58

Figure 37. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

59

Figure 38. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

60

Figure 39. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

61

Figure 40. Rick Moody, Surplus Value Books #13, 2003, box containing letters, loose leaf sheets and various items, 9” x 9” x 4.5”, Indulgence Press. Artists’ Books Collection, Rare Book and Special Collection Division, Library of Congress. Photo by author.

62 Bibliography

Abrams, J. J., and Doug Dorst. S. New York: Mulholland Books, 2013.

Allix, Susan. Blitz, 2014.

Altman, Janet Gurkin. Epistolarity: Approaches to a Form. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1982.

Asimov, Isaac. Space Mail. Fawcett, 1982.

Bantock, Nick. Griffin & Sabine: An Extraordinary Correspondence. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1991.

Bantock, Nick. Sabine’s Notebook. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1992.

Bantock, Nick. The Golden Mean. San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1993.

Barnes, Kassandra, Raymond C. Marateo, and S. Pixey Ferris. “Teaching the Learning the Next Generation.” Innovate: Journal of Online Education 3, no. 4 (April/May 2007): 3.

Bay, Joe. The Epistolary Novel: Representations of Consciousness. London: Routledge, 2003.

Brooks, Max. World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2006.

Cummins, Maureen. Far Rockaway. 2005.

Cohen, Ralph. “Genre Theory, Literary History, and Historical Change.” In Theoretical Issues in Literary History, edited by David Perkins, 85–113. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991.

Day, Robert Adams. Told in Letters. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1966.

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