Handwriting in America: A Cultural History

by Tamara Plakins Thornton

Copybooks and the Palmer method, handwriting analysis and autograph collecting - these words conjure up a lost world, in which people looked to handwriting as both a lesson in conformity and a talisman of individuality. In this engaging history, ranging from colonial times to the present, Tamara Plakins Thornton explores the shifting functions and meanings of handwriting in America.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Writing

264 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1996

About the author

Tamara Plakins Thornton is professor of history at the State University of New York, Buffalo.

Reviews

[Stacy · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a very interesting book, but took a long time to read. The author worked hard to make her points which were sometimes amazing to grasp; like reading and writing being such separate skills, or writing not being a form of thinking/expression but about copying your superiors. Sadly this made for a lot of repetitive and confusing reading. There were things I had never thought of that "suddenly" made sense. Even though the sections were separated into different time periods, I still felt like the author bounced back and forth, making it difficult to understand when these views and practices actual occurred. It was also interesting to read her grasp of handwriting in the "present" now that we would almost look at that as the past.

For all of it's references, quotes and research in the bibliography notes, this book still had a very opinionated, not-quite-factual feel to the conclusions made and presented. Perhaps this is because so many of the citations were from a time when it was "proven" that women were inferior and that the lower classes could not have the intelligence to understand writing.

I would have liked more visuals of the styles of writing discussed, with descriptions of what made them more unique, or how they had changed from the previous accepted versions.

[Dorothea · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ever notice that in some novels written in the 19th and early 20th centuries, a character can pick up an unsigned letter that fell out of another person's pocket and say "Aha! This was written by a woman!"

Then there's this passage in Middlemarch (chapter 56):

"Let us see," said Caleb, taking up a pen, examining it carefully and handing it, well dipped, to Fred with a sheet of ruled paper. "Copy me a line or two of that valuation, with the figures at the end."

At that time the opinion existed that it was beneath a gentleman to write legibly, or with a hand in the least suitable to a clerk. Fred wrote the lines demanded in a hand as gentlemanly as that of any viscount or bishop of the day: the vowels were all alike and the consonants only distinguishable as turning up or down, the strokes had a blotted solidity and the letters disdained to keep the line—in short, it was a manuscript of that venerable kind easy to interpret when you know beforehand what the writer means.

As Caleb looked on, his visage showed a growing depression, but when Fred handed him the paper he gave something like a snarl, and rapped the paper passionately with the back of his hand. Bad work like this dispelled all Caleb's mildness.

"The deuce!" he exclaimed, snarlingly. "To think that this is a country where a man's education may cost hundreds and hundreds, and it turns you out this!" Then in a more pathetic tone, pushing up his spectacles and looking at the unfortunate scribe, "The Lord have mercy on us, Fred, I can't put up with this!"

"What can I do, Mr. Garth?" said Fred, whose spirits had sunk very low, not only at the estimate of his handwriting, but at the vision of himself as liable to be ranked with office clerks.

There is something more going on here than illegible handwriting -- university-educated Fred is planning to forgo a gentleman's occupation, and support himself in Caleb Garth's "business" (in this case, estate management). Here Fred finds that, far from being over-educated, he is lacking a skill that his supposed social inferiors (the "office clerks") have all mastered. Garth's recommendation is that Fred sit up at night with a copy-book teaching himself how to write properly; until then, his work is useless.

This is why I was happy to find Handwriting in America (never mind that Middlemarch is set in England) -- it explains where these odd details come from.

In short, there was a time when reading and writing were taught separately; when important people usually had secretaries to perform the physical act of writing for them; when writing was a specialized skill that was grouped pedagogically with business skills like accounting. That's a horrible oversimplification, but it does give an idea of how different writing used to be, as a cultural activity, than it is now.

And the reason that women's handwriting is supposed to be specially identifiable in 19th century novels, is that for upper-class women at this time, writing was pedagogically grouped with skills like embroidery and piano-playing. It was an ornament. The dancing master would teach them how to dance and the writing master would teach them how to shape their letters prettily -- not in the same style used by clerks or gentlemen.

Thornton is interested not only in why people learned to write in certain ways, but in how people have thought about the act of writing. So this book is also a history of ideas about conformity, class, individuality, and the self. For example, people haven't always thought that it's possible to identify an individual by his or her handwriting. Today, most people take this for granted, and some people even think that a person's handwriting reveals aspects of his or her personality. Thornton explains how this came about by patching together stories about educational theories, graphologists, autograph hunters, etc. I wasn't always entirely convinced by her overarching argument, but there's a lot of very interesting information to be learned along the way.

[Jack S · Rating 3 out of 5]

An academic book that rambles a bit. I would have preferred a more linear treatment of the topic, but the chapters that are supposed to delineate tine frames of different handwriting drift back and forth into each other.

[Malika · Rating 4 out of 5]

More detailed and academic than others in my recent penmanship rabbit hole, but fascinating and with a healthy dose of burning sarcasm for some of history's bad ideas.

[Dave · Rating 3 out of 5]

There just aren't that many books out there on the history of handwriting, so this one is pretty much indispensable if you're into that sort of thing. One suspects that is is a beefed-up version of the author's doctoral dissertation.

[Ray · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a very scholarly book about handwriting with many footnotes. Its not easy to read but the author has a summary at the end of each chapter. I wish there were more illustrations of the different styles of handwriting.

[Dianna · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was hoping for an engaging narrative history. This was okay -- fun to flip through.

[Charles · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the two best books I know of on the topic (also one of the only two books I know of on the topic). My recollections of it may be benefitting from the nostalgia of having mislaid it.