Two events in 2007 sparked my exploration of marginalia: working on a design team that designed the first Kindle e-book and inheriting my grandfather's library. Working on a project that threatened the existence of printed books made me question what makes them special, if anything. Perhaps digitization is simply the logical next step in the book's evolution, offering portability, infinite access, and freedom from clutter.
But inheriting my grandfather's books complicated this view. A Latin and German professor, he was a devoted "close reader" whose marginalia revealed the depth of his engagement. In The Decameron, he noted "romantics, irrational lyricism" and "naturalism turns inward." In Herodotus, he translated English to Latin. An oak leaf, brown with age, pressed between pages, became a kind of poetic marginal communication.
His intellect shone through these marks, usually in green ink, which conformed neatly to the margins or on inserted index cards. By picking up his pen, he asserted himself in dialogue with authors, challenging premises, organizing thoughts, and creating translations. This profound intimacy made me reconsider marginalia's significance.
I began collecting marked books from used bookstores, though proprietors typically destroyed or donated such "undesirable" volumes. A free bookstore in Berkeley became my primary source—purged library books available to anyone, fifty copies per day. I developed criteria focusing on fiction, literary nonfiction, and poetry, where marginalia concentrate and meaningful examples reside. Literary fiction yielded the most; genre fiction rarely contained any.
In my studio, I examine pages for insightful commentary, unique marks, and multi-reader interactions. Selected pages are photographed with professional equipment, digitally corrected, and cataloged. Rejected books are donated or placed in Little Free Libraries.
In 2013, web developer Nick Bushman and I launched thepagesproject.com, featuring fifty archive pages without analysis or categorization. The site received major press coverage and won a Webby Award, confirming public interest and leading to a printed book project.
As the archive grows, patterns emerge, confirming Jacques Derrida's observation: "The archivation produces as much as it records the event." Marginalia reveals acts of rebellion and empowerment. Some readers challenge authorial authority with "Totally disagree!" Others struggle sincerely: "What does this mean?" A few develop complex organizational systems using underlines, asterisks, arrows, and numerals. Others mark nearly every line, perhaps from elation or unconscious habit.
As artist Jorge Otero-Pailos notes: "Exploring the layer of residue on the surface of the 'important' object reveals the world in a different way." Through marginalia, I explore how readers transform books into sites of intimate intellectual exchange.
The Pages Project will be released in a published volume by Slanted in spring 2026.