We seem to be enjoying a tribute to scholarly impedimenta lately: first Anthony Grafton's The Footnote: A Curious History
(1999), then H.J. Jackson's Marginalia: Readers Writing in Books
(2001) and now another study of the footnote. At the risk of deflating public excitement over the birth of a new genre, one has to wonder where this obsession with the nonessential is coming from. Zerby has rightly deduced that a study so confined in its subject has to amuse as well as inform, and his book is full of efforts to charm. But the desired manner—erudite but whimsical—is difficult to sustain under the best of circumstances. Zerby is so intent on manufacturing interesting annotations that his text suffers in consequence. The thread of the narrative is split so often, it becomes irreparably frayed; at times the book seems itself like one long digression. It might have had a better shot at winning a following of history-of-the-book loyalists had it not been preceded by Grafton's. As it stands, it is hard to argue that the market can bear two studies—both trade-oriented, both historical, both abounding in their own parentheticals and asides. Even their design is similar—from twenty feet, the books are nearly indistinguishable. Nevertheless, the scrutiny of bibliophiles, once unleashed, should not be underestimated. Perhaps the myopic pleasures of the footnote will catch on. If not, Zerby's work will, no doubt, at least be immortalized in citation for years to come. (Dec.)
