I love Johnny Cash and that page at the end of books describing the font. I love the first sip of a negroni, and also the last. That sound of a smile through the telephone, did you know you can hear it? I sit on the floor to keep the room from spinning, or to keep my mind from spinning. I hate the feeling of wearing socks that squish your toes too close together. I love the power of making dough; pasta, pie, or cookie in my hands and knowing that this came together because of me and it’s mine. Dough, either right or wrong, is the only certainty in life. When I bought my wallet monogramming was free, so my wallet has the letters “B”, “Y”, “E” embossed into the leather. I leave jokes for myself to find like plastic easter eggs that make me smile a little each time I see them. I relish the feeling right before you cry, the sharp tingling in your throat and eyes, like breaking a wine glass and sweeping the shards up, only to step on an unseen piece. That tiny drop of blood.
I’m in an intense relationship with the last page of most books that tells you about the typeface used in the printing of the book you’re holding, right then, in your hands. It feels startlingly intimate and like opening the wrong door in someone’s house when you are looking for the bathroom that they vaguely directed you towards. I love the stark contrast in the writing of this page from the pages of prose it follows.
The type affects your perception. The type is your perception. The serif, sans or not. The size. The width. The annoyingly emphatic italicized portions with emphasis added.
I’m not sure what my type is, what my font face is, the kerning between my consonants. But we’re all shifting, creating, shaping ourselves and our story. I think we may read the whole thing and only figure out what the typeface means, where it came from, why this, this particular font, was chosen, what type we really are on that very last page.
I am deep, deeply in love with the last page of a book that tells you about the typeface, because it makes every part of the story make sense.