By Andrew Fincham
Executive Member of the Servetus International Society
Books are worse than children for bringing out some of the worst
traits in man – over protectiveness and ambitions. And I
speak from experience, having aided the birth of both a child
and a volume of poetry in the past three months. The fact is that
the poetry suffered a longer, more troublesome and frustrating
gestation, from first conceived poem to publication fifteen months
later.
In the introduction to the ‘Impartial History of Servetus’,
on the second page, the author raises the issue of the value of
reading – in particular, the scriptures. His question is
phrased thus:
‘What it availed the scripture to be had and read by vulgar
people?’
The last few months managing the process by which we produce
the SIS edition of the ‘Impartial History’ tempts
me to wonder if publishers and trustees do not take a similar
view of their guardian ship of the media. Obviously, publishers
need books and Trustees are obliged to use their funds. And a
new edition of the ‘Impartial History’ after almost
three hundred years is generally agreed to be a worthwhile exercise.
Where the process becomes frustrating is in trying to realise
a concept on which each stakeholder can agree.
First and foremost of the ideas behind reproducing the book
was that the new edition should preserve the original orthography,
although use a clearer font. This desire arose as much out of
the difficulties in drawing and editorial line than from any need
to preserve the quality of the prose, much of it rather unpolished
translation from c.17th French.
This in turn presents two problems, the least of which is font
design. We have been exceptionally lucky to gain the services
of Olgierd Chmielewski, a name perhaps less familiar outside the
world of specialist books, but responsible for producing some
of the finer specialist imprints over the past years. A expert
in typography, Olek’s last client was Pope John Paul II,
for whom he produced a best selling book of verse. We are in good,
ecumenical company here.
But the orthography issue presents problems with proof reading.
On the very page quoted above, the noble Doctor and moral Divine
St. Chrysostom is also referred to as Crysostom; later ‘Melanchthon’
is rendered differently in the same sentence (p.92); ‘Bibliotique
Anglais’, the source of much of the text, never really settles
for one of a number of variants. In the same manner do place names
alternate, Bern and Berne, Basle and Basil, Frankfort and so on.
All this before one encounters the innumerable variations in spelling
one associates with late c.17th work. Such make a proof readers
task all but impossible, since much of their skill does not involve
word by word comparison of original and reprinted text. It tends
to convince one that we are all dyslexic to some degree.
Signing on experts encourages the trustees to release funds,
and enables publishers to be approached. However, the little world
of antiquarian reprints has seemed to retain the spirit of the
mediaeval world, where cooperation is limited and rivalries resemble
the internecine conflicts of past centuries. In short, half will
not work with the other half, and what is required is the literary
equivalent of the puzzle where the farmer is required to ferry
chickens across a river, faced by a fox.
Withal, the book moves forward. A spirit of compromise prevails
on all but the quality of the reprint. Notification on launch
date remains the prerogative of the experts into whose hands we
must fall. There is talk of an electronic version to accompany
the book, and if there is interest we may produce this first,
subject to agreement from all parties.
Meanwhile, if anyone wants a physical book to have and to hold,
may I recommend the award-winning new poetry collection ‘Centre
of Gravity’. I forget the author’s name…
Andrew J. Fincham
