Yesterday I sent a brief email in which I recommended an article (“The Politics of Typography”—well written, thoughtful, but short enough not to be a drag).
I received the following reply (which I’ve edited just slightly to protect the names of the innocent):
Thank you very much.
It is amazing how much
going on around type these
days. For example,
I am reading Just My Type
by Simon Garfield a lighthearted
compendium of typography,
which is making waves. The book
is not offering anything particularly
new, but I have to own a copy…
and I am guessing I am not alone.
Is it not uncannily like a poem? The line breaks happened in just such a way; it is perfect and inexplicable. There is rhyme and internal rhyme. There is a strong image, right in the middle for balance. Not to sound smarmy, but there are savoury, piquant phrases. There is a voice, a tone. A question is posed, answered, and then left for the reader to answer. There is specificity and universality. It is a nice, little walk through a thought. Know what I mean?
I suppose you would call this email a “found poem”, but I’m not going to do that because good found poems are so rare that I have developed little faith in the whole genre and generally prefer to dismiss it—though this one is an exception.
This email is also, clearly, a book recommendation (for this book). The sender knows that I’ve been reading The Elements of Typographic Style by Robert Bringhurst (for my design class—but also because it’s awesome). Now I have another fun-sounding thing to add to my reading list. If you too are a bit of a type nerd, check out either of those titles.