The playfulness of the early chapters is captivating, invigorating. The give and take, the pushmepullya action, all of it engages the reader in ways that vibrant, immediate electronic text does. I was thrilled to find classical references in virtual scenarios. But then I wanted to take part in the play, outside my head, a hands-on experience that I almost got to experience while reading. Almost. And while there were many, many virtual places, including those mentioned in the text, where I could go, I wanted a special place, one just for those engaged with this text. I wanted: A hypertextual, multimedia counterpart to this (less) traditional published text. One that allowed the freedom to explore, play, create, construct, (re)envision. To look at. To look through. To look beyond. To play. To engage. One I could participate in, co-author, or at least co-interpret. One that, like the energizer bunny, goes on and on and on and on....
     I think this book whetted my appetite, but didn’t leave me satisfied; I wanted to spend hours surfing by clicking, not by turning pages. A PERFECT example of my salivation and (almost) salvation--my almost satiated desire-- would be the final edited hypertextual MOO conversation (annotated, no less!) in which the authors discuss the book, life, and everything, then Mick Doherty and Sandye Thompson. I did get a bit weary of thumbing pages back and forth, and I couldn't simply adjust the font size on my screen, so my eyes got tired. This ending should have been virtual, linked.
     Then maybe we could’ve heard Mick’s songs. Why doesn’t such a companion hypertext exist?

-beckster

Tschichold, Jan. The New Typography: A Handbook for Modern Designers. Trans. Ruari McLean. Berkeley: U California P, 1995.

Image above courtesy of Anne Wysocki