In 1852, after completing two recently published novels, Sunny Side and Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Reverend Lavius Hyde wrote with judicious certitude to his daughter, miles away at school: “I think something good will come out of these book-making propensities of the age.” He hastened to add in the letter—the one tenuous line of parental influence left to him—“I hope our darling Sarah, will not neglect her Bible in this age of many Books.” Hyde, like many other antebellum Americans, felt overwhelmed by the ocean of print that flooded the market along with the wide array of other consumer goods such as furnishings, wallpapers, decorative items, textiles, and foods. With a plethora of titles vying for attention, even the most prudent consumer felt challenged to exercise selectivity; indeed, one of Hyde’s contemporaries on a shopping spree complained of at least “half a dozen” books that “seemed entreating me to take them.” To be sure, enjoyment of the bounty commonly accompanied the sense of inundation. But, within the seemingly chaotic “world of goods,” in which texts, like other goods, were mass produced, marketed, and widely distributed, could people render personal or intimate significance to the books they owned?
This essay attempts to show that many antebellum Americans imbued their books with a richness of meaning despite the commodification process. As consumer items, books often transcended commercial value and performed varied functions as multivalent objects: they could entertain and educate and their very costliness could convey owners’ status, but they also offered solace, kindled memories, and, in general, helped maintain ties to loved ones. How books and reading helped preserve these connections takes precedence here, over other roles they might conceivably play in consumers’ lives.
BT - American Quarterly IS - 4 LA - English N2 -In 1852, after completing two recently published novels, Sunny Side and Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Reverend Lavius Hyde wrote with judicious certitude to his daughter, miles away at school: “I think something good will come out of these book-making propensities of the age.” He hastened to add in the letter—the one tenuous line of parental influence left to him—“I hope our darling Sarah, will not neglect her Bible in this age of many Books.” Hyde, like many other antebellum Americans, felt overwhelmed by the ocean of print that flooded the market along with the wide array of other consumer goods such as furnishings, wallpapers, decorative items, textiles, and foods. With a plethora of titles vying for attention, even the most prudent consumer felt challenged to exercise selectivity; indeed, one of Hyde’s contemporaries on a shopping spree complained of at least “half a dozen” books that “seemed entreating me to take them.” To be sure, enjoyment of the bounty commonly accompanied the sense of inundation. But, within the seemingly chaotic “world of goods,” in which texts, like other goods, were mass produced, marketed, and widely distributed, could people render personal or intimate significance to the books they owned?
This essay attempts to show that many antebellum Americans imbued their books with a richness of meaning despite the commodification process. As consumer items, books often transcended commercial value and performed varied functions as multivalent objects: they could entertain and educate and their very costliness could convey owners’ status, but they also offered solace, kindled memories, and, in general, helped maintain ties to loved ones. How books and reading helped preserve these connections takes precedence here, over other roles they might conceivably play in consumers’ lives.
PY - 1996 SP - 587 EP - 622 T2 - American Quarterly TI - Books, Reading, and the World of Goods in Antebellum New England VL - 48 ER -