Dying Book Titles

… But first an update from Ephegenia Phibbs.

She tells me that inclement weather in her neck of the woods has delayed her departure to Argol. I thought she’d already left. But no, it seems that she had some unfinished chores to do around her house. She felt that as she would be gone for an indeterminate length of time, she ought to make her house as pleasant for her niece to stay in as possible.

I also didn’t know that she was planning to stay for an indeterminate length of time. I get a feeling that Ephegenia’s and my vision for her reports might not actually be on the same page. She’s planning on a complete immersion, or insertion, (she couldn’t decide which word best described what she had in mind)

As for her reporting from Argol …. as the divine Bette Davis said in ‘All about Eve’, “Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.”

I refuse to regret that I ever took her up on her offer…. I simply refuse!  … Ephegenia, not Bette Davis.

I was travelling on the train the other day, (It’s too cold to ride my bicycle. Who wants to breathe icicles?) when I saw a young woman reading a book. Which was a bit of a change. They’re usually plugged into their ipods and/or smartphones. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the fact that she was reading that caught my attention, it was the tile of the book.

Every day it seems we hear of yet another profession or business or concept that has gone the way of the Dodo in the face of the internet revolution. Books, CD’s and DVD’s falling into oblivion as more and more content is available through ‘e’.

Although I do believe that there will always be a market for hard-copy technology, at least for my lifetime, because a good majority of the world’s population doesn’t have electricity, let alone the latest high-tech gadget.

So, lets get back to the title of the book.

“What your Handwriting says about You”.

In these degenerate times when cursive writing (or running writing as I was taught in primary school) is, if not a thing of the past then well on its way there, and some folk bemoan that they don’t know how to sign their names, (what will they do when their fifteen minutes of fame roll around and they have to sign autographs?) it would seem that anyone who tries to sell a book on deciphering handwriting probably should’ve picked another topic.

Perhaps something along the lines of, ‘What your texting skills say about your love-life’, or getting back to the fifteen minutes of fame theme, “How to e-sign your autographs”. And how will those denizens of the spy business, the handwriting experts, retrain themselves? Studying the thumb calluses of twenty first century field agents perhaps?

In the short time I observed the young woman and her book I came to several conclusions

1 – That she was reading a book and not wired to the ethers I took to be an encouraging sign for the continuance of our species, and my gender in particular.

2 – She appeared to be a university student and I wondered what course would require such research?

3 – I was very glad I always carry my notebook with me to write down my observations before they’ve slipped out the bottom of the filing cabinet in my head. I suppose if I had a smartphone I could’ve texted my observations to myself – but I’m a bit of a post-retro-renaissance woman and I find that completely relying on technology that doesn’t react well with water and needs batteries is just asking for trouble


And the final word from Ms Davis herself – “Old age is no place for sissies”


4 comments on “Dying Book Titles

  1. Several years ago I met an elementary school teacher who didn’t think it was necessary to teach kids handwriting skills because they would do most of their “writing” on a keyboard. At first I thought she was joking but she didn’t seem to be the joking kind.

    Happy holidays, Widdershins!


  2. I always observe what people read. If memory serves, in some essay or other Montaigne suggested that part of a quality education was developing people watching skills.

    You’re not supposed to stare, of course, just surreptitiously observe. Sometimes one cannot help but stare because people really are all space aliens – or something close to that. We’re a strange breed. No?


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