Miscellany № 93: a fistful of manicules

Underware, the Dutch/Finnish type foundry comprising Akiem Helmling, Bas Jacobs and Sami Kortemäki, is one that gets special characters. Bas’s ironieteken (), or irony mark, was one of the first characters I wrote about here.* They’ve also done some interesting work towards a “Latin plus” character set — a collection of the more than 450 accented and non-accented characters needed to typeset the hundreds of languages, common and otherwise, that use the roman alphabet. Now, they’ve added what they call a “manicule specimen” to this body of work. This warrants some explanation.

First, the manicule (☞), or pointing hand, is a written or printed mark traditionally placed in the margin to call out some point of interest in a text. Being a creation of some unknown medieval scribe, the manicule is considerably older than the ironieteken but has survived intact into the Unicode era. More than survived, in fact; like the pilcrow (¶), the manicule is one of those archaic marks that type designers just can’t seem to give up, despite its assuredly marginal utility.

Specimen of chromatic wood type
A page reproduced from Specimens of chromatic wood type, borders, etc. manufactured by Wm. H. Page & Co. (1874). This version is hosted at the Internet Archive and is taken from the copy held by Columbia University Libraries.

Separately, a type specimen is typically a sheet or two of printed text that show off a typeface in something approaching its expected habitat. The collection of the Science Museum in London, for example, contains an appropriately sober specimen of Monotype’s Times New Roman, an archetypal newspaper typeface. William. H. Page’s 1874 Specimens of chromatic wood type, borders, etc., on the other hand, is a riotous collection of multi-coloured wood types intended for advertisements and other attention-grabbing purposes. The page reproduced here shows that Page knew his audience.

Type specimens are usually arranged around typefaces and letters. Where a specimen contains special characters, they are often corralled into a section of their own and kept apart from the more serious business of letters, by God. The Underware guys have turned this on its head by creating a type specimen that revolves around a single special character — the manicule — and which uses that character as a literal index to their catalogue of typefaces. As they put it,

The Manicule specimen is an illustrated essay on the manicule, which briefly tells its transition from the margins of 12th century books up to the vaults of contemporary typefaces, and brings our love for carefully designed manicules in the open. This publication is therefore not a type specimen, but rather a manicule specimen, in which each pointing hand is presented in combination with the typeface to which it belongs.

I was lucky enough to receive a copy bound in a bold, brassy gold cover. You’ll have to take my word on that, since my photography skills are not equal to the task of properly documenting my copy. Happily, however, Underware have uploaded to Flickr some shots of a different version (there are seven different versions, each printed on a different set of leftover stock), and have kindly allowed me to reproduce my pick of the bunch here.

Cover of Underware's manicule specimen
Cover of Underware’s manicule specimen. (Image courtesy of Underware.)
Interior pages from Underware's manicule specimen
Interior pages from Underware’s manicule specimen. (Image courtesy of Underware.)
Interior pages from Underware's manicule specimen
Interior pages from Underware’s manicule specimen. (Image courtesy of Underware.)
Interior pages from Underware's manicule specimen
Interior pages from Underware’s manicule specimen. (Image courtesy of Underware.)

It’s excellent stuff, and a reminder that even as emoji continue to make the headlines, good old-fashioned shady characters are still worthy of our time. Many thanks to Bas Jacobs and the others at Underware for sending over a copy!


In other manicule news (not often I get to type that), Henning Hansen of the Swedish National Heritage Board calls attention to a particularly metal manicule of the fifteenth century, perhaps best represented in type using the “SIGN OF THE HORNS” emoji (🤘). Head over to Henning’s Twitter account for an image and more details.

And elsewhere, I learned that the manicule has given its name to Manicule 2.0, a software tool created by Whitney Trettien for building tours of old books. That in turn led me to Whitney’s new book, Cut/Copy/Paste, which examines how seventeenth and eighteenth century printers in London “remixed” material from other works. Intriguing stuff, and something to go on my to-read list once my own new book is finished.

*
Sindre Bremnes and Frode Helland’s Monokrom is another type foundry that gets special characters. It’s thanks to them that I can enter an ironieteken here and see the character itself () rather than a sad Unicode “missing character” symbol (□). 
Ho ho! 
William Page did exactly this, as you can see here

Miscellany № 92: a lightly festive miscellany

Work continues apace on the new book, but here are a few links I couldn’t let go before the holidays are upon us.


First is this amusing and well-crafted video exploration of where the comma should go in the first line of the song God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen. Very clever, and very well executed. Kudos to its maker, Ramses the Pigeon.


Next up is my one and only Christmas gift recommendation this year (barring my own books, of course!). This fetching asterisk-as-snow T-shirt is available from Type Tasting, as are hoodies and greetings cards bearing the same pattern.

Red T-shirt printed with snow in the form of asterisks
Asterisk snow T-shirt available from Type Tasting.

Type Tasting, I should say, is the website of Sarah Hyndman, a prolific writer and public speaker on typography. Very much worth a follow on the social network of your choice.


Elsewhere, my blog-friend Glenn Fleishman, who hosts the Tiny Typecast podcast, last month released an episode on electrotyping in the nineteenth century. What is electrotyping, you ask? Well, now you can find out. (Full disclosure: I appeared on Glenn’s podcast last year, talking about books, book history, and and more. Extra full disclosure: I’ve met Glenn in real life, and he is a thoroughly decent chap. Do yourself a favour and subscribe to the Tiny Typecast!)


I was intrigued to see a tweet announcing the publication of an open access book entitled Manual of Roman Everyday Writing, Volume 1: Scripts and Texts. (Volume 2, Writing Equipment, was published earlier this year.) I haven’t had a chance to dig into them yet, but both volumes give every impression of being invaluable resources on how the Romans wrote and what they wrote with — exactly the sort of thing I could have used back in 2016 as I wrote The Book!

Volume 1 was written by Alex Mullen at the University of Nottingham and Alan Bowman of the Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents. Volume 2 was written by Anna Willi, also at Nottingham. Both books were sponsored by the LatinNow project, which has a blog post announcing volume 1. Both are now on my reading list, and if you’re at all interested in ancient writing, I suspect you might want to add them to yours, too.


Enjoy the holiday season, and see you in the new year!

Ciemne typki competition: we have a winner!

Congratulations to Mykola Leonovych on winning a copy of the new edition of Ciemne typki, the Polish translation of Shady Characters! I asked entrants about their favourite marks of punctuation and why they liked them. Here’s Mykola’s winning entry:

My favourite punctuation mark is probably the fleuron. I use ❧ to mark a personal section of my email newsletter, and sometimes a beginning of a poem (for that I also like the asterism, ⁂). I think that any font with a fleuron is more lively than without.

Indeed! I’m grateful to Mykola for reminding me about the fleuron and asterism, a pair of marks that have somehow not featured prominently here on the blog. And he makes a good point about fonts and shady characters: in the same way that Van Halen demanded a bowl of M&Ms with all the brown ones removed to figure out which concert promoters had read their contract and which hadn’t, for me the absence of a fleuron or other unusual marks is a sign of a typeface lacking a bit of verve. Conversely, a good asterism or pilcrow is a sign of a designer with a sense of history.

If you’d to see Mykola deploy a fleuron in person, his newsletter Повільна людина (The Slow Person), where he writes in Ukrainian “about books, culture, and typography”, lives here.

Mykola’s copy of Ciemne typki will be in the post soon, and thank you all for entering!

Win a copy of Shady Characters for National Punctuation Day!

Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad photograph by the author.

It’s the 24th of September, which means it’s National Punctuation Day! To celebrate, I’m giving away a copy of Wydawnictwo Karakter’s gorgeous Polish edition of Shady Characters. (My terrible photo does not do it justice – this is a great-looking book.)

To enter, drop me a line via the Contact page and tell me what your favourite punctuation mark is and why. I’ll pick a winner on Sunday the 3rd of October. Be sure to let me know if you’re happy for me to share your entry!

I’ll ship to any continent except Antarctica (I’m looking at you, residents of Henryk Arctowski Polish Antarctic Station).

Good luck!

Miscellany № 91: interrobang archaeology

Funny how time gets away with you in a late-stage pandemic, isn’t it? Here are a few somewhat recent stories of a typographic or emojinal (?) bent that Shady Characters readers may enjoy.


If you recall, the interrobang came into being back in 1962 and was immortalised just a few years later in Richard Isbell’s Americana typeface of 1967. As the first interrobang to take its place in a fully-fledged typeface, Isbell’s “open” version has a reasonable claim to being the canonical form of the character. The holotype of the interrobang, so to speak.

Designed for Richard Isbell's Americana
Designs for the extra bold weight of Richard Isbell’s Americana. (Image courtesy of Fritz Klinke on Flickr.)

As far as I know, no digital version of Americana includes an interrobang patterned after Isbell’s original design. In fact, other than the hand-drawn example here, decent images of Isbell’s interrobang of any sort have general been hard to come by. Until now, that is: the indispensable Stephen Coles, editorial director and associate curator at the Letterform Archive in San Francisco,* recently tweeted that a clutch of Americana ephemera have been uploaded to the Letterform Archive’s website. You can find the complete collection here, but with the permission of the Letterform Archive I thought I’d highlight one particular example:

Americana Italic specimen, showing regular and italic interrobangs
1969 type specimen for Richard Isbell’s Americana, showing both regular and italic interrobangs. (Image courtesy of the Letterform Archive. View the original here. Thanks to Stephen Coles.)

As is traditional for type specimens, this one oscillates between the mundane and the absurd. What’s noticeable, though, is how prominently the interrobang features: either Isbell or ATF must have been quite taken by Martin Speckter’s new mark. Quite an achievement for a symbol of punctuation that had only been invented only a few years earlier, even if its Warholian five minutes never quite translated into a durable presence on the printed page.


Elsewhere, the National Law Review reports on “The Case of the [Allegedly] Stolen Ampersand”. Moshik Nadav Typography, a boutique type studio, filed a claim against Banana Republic stating that the clothing company had stolen an ampersand from Nadav’s Paris Pro typeface. That first suit was dismissed for lack of evidence, but Nadav has filed a second on more limited grounds. Head over to the article to judge (ho ho) for yourself, but Nadav looks to have a pretty solid moral case even if the court has found their legal arguments to be less convincing.

Over at the MIT Technology Review, Tom Mullaney writes about the first digital Chinese fonts. I wrote in The Book about China’s invention of movable type and the problems that hampered its wider adoption, and Tom’s article is a neat account of the parallel issues that affected digital Chinese typography. Aficionados of early desktop computing will appreciate the details:

At the advent of computing and word processing in the West, engineers and designers determined that a low-resolution digital font for English could be built upon a 5-by-7 bitmap grid — requiring only five bytes of memory per symbol. Storing all 128 low-resolution characters in the American Standard Code for Information Interchange (ASCII), which includes every letter in the English alphabet, the numerals 0 through 9, and common punctuation symbols, required just 640 bytes of memory — a tiny fraction of, for example, the Apple II’s 64 kilobytes of onboard memory.

But there are tens of thousands of Chinese characters, and a 5-by-7 grid was too small to make them legible. Chinese required a grid of 16 by 16 or larger — i.e., at least 32 bytes of memory (256 bits) per character. Were one to imagine a font containing 70,000 low-resolution Chinese characters, the total memory requirement would exceed two megabytes. Even a font containing only 8,000 of the most common Chinese characters would require approximately 256 kilobytes just to store the bitmaps. That was four times the total memory capacity of most off-the-shelf personal computers in the early 1980s.

And finally: the king is dead, long live the king! Keith Broni of Emojipedia writes that on Twitter at least, FACE WITH TEARS OF JOY (😂) is no longer the most popular emoji. Enter, instead, the even more hysterical LOUDLY CRYING FACE (😭). Keith wonders if the change is down to the Covid-19 pandemic (“Is there simply less to laugh about now?”), which seems like an eminently sensible conclusion in these challenging times. But as ever, the shifting sands of the emoji lexicon mean that the most straightforward explanations are not always the right ones. Nowadays, ‘😭’ is often used to mean “I’m laughing so hard I’m crying” — which is exactly the same ground once staked out by ‘😂’. Emoji users may not be distressed by the pandemic so much as following emoji fashion.

*
Stephen can be found at on the web at stephencoles.org and typographica.org, and on Twitter