A note in the margin

 I had to shut off the voice that said: “Thou shalt not write in books.”

Of course you shouldn’t write in library books. Library books are public property and you should treat them as a naturalist treats public land: the motto is “leave no trace.”

But my own books are different. I bought them because I wanted to digest them, not just read them. I wanted to take what was between the covers and make it a part of me.

The cow eats grass, but the grass becomes cow, not vice versa, Eric Hoffer used to say.

Hoffer was a great one for making ideas in great books his own. He read, and thought about what he read. He wrote notes in pocket notebooks as they occurred to him. He later reworked those notes on index cards. He eventually began to publish essays and books.

I use notebooks and index cards too, but I also mark the spot in my own books that ignited the chain of thought. And so my own process looks like this:

• I read a book, making a note where something inside me reacts. Sometimes it’s a question. Sometimes it’s a proposed amendment. C.S. Lewis called his notes “festoons.”

•  I work through the marginal notes in notebooks and index cards until I get comfortable, that is, until I find a version of the original idea that I can use.

• I then talk about the notion with friends who can be trusted to give me an honest appraisal. Or I post the notion at this site and hope for a constructive reply. This note, for example, was prompted by just such a discussion. (Thanks, Alvin.)

That’s the process. The collection of notes you see on this site might be called “The Collective Marginalia of Heber Taylor.” That’s wrong, but not far wrong.