By Halin Roche
July 14, 2022
I recently joined as an elementary school English teacher in the school I had studied. It seems to be a unique experience. To see students sit in classrooms and learn as an alumnus is one thing. But to stand right in front of them as a teacher and teach them is different.
I always ask my students to take out their pencils when I start teaching them. They wonder why. They assume that I would be reading them an elaborate story, taking them to a fictional fairyland in that lecture. But when I halt between the paragraphs and ask them to underline a hard word and write its meaning in the margins, they scrunch their noses. They whine and frown. They tell me that it doesn’t look neat. I then showed them one of my annotated textbooks and a novel. They gaped seeing the wild black ink scribbles on my precious books.
Many years ago, my novels and textbooks used to look spic and span. No folds, no creases. No handwritten notes, crooked underlines, and chicken scratches. Well, only my name is written on the title page so that others know to whom it belongs. My neat and beautiful handwriting (a little boasting is allowed, I suppose!) hardly looks like an unnecessary blemish on the page, so that's fine.
This was years ago when I was an elementary school student. My teachers and friends always wondered how my books looked so "untouched" and neat. It seemed to be a feat for them. It was a practice I had crafted for myself as a reader. I remember an incident when I quarreled with one of my classmates for scribbling on my textbook. She pointed out that those were observations on a poem we were learning that day in the English class. She had marked the rhyme scheme and figures of speech but I didn't bother. The argument escalated quickly. Everyone knew that I disliked when my books were messed up with.
Now I laugh when I think about this. I am right in the middle of typing this article that I had promised I will publish soon. My desk is cluttered as usual. My copy of A Passage To India by Forster lies open beside the mouse pad. I had just finished annotating another chapter. The black ink scribbles on the margins taunt me. But I fix my eyes on the screen as I continue to type out the thoughts in my head.
We have encountered our hard word which is the very core of this article: “annotating”. It's when readers jot down their thoughts on the text they are reading. Sometimes with a pen, or a pencil. Sometimes underlined, sometimes arrows swished down across the page. This word is often confused with marginalia. There isn't much difference though. Marginalia refers to the notes added on the margins of the text.
But is this practice quite new? A trend on the internet like any other?
The answer is no. Marginalia and annotating have fairly existed for centuries. It enjoys a literary tradition and recognition of its own. I was surprised to see the amount of several renowned writers of the Romanticism, Regency, and Victorian era as prolific margin writers. Right from Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Jane Austen, Mark Twain, Edgar Allan Poe to Virginia Woolf were active scribblers. This practice was not fared by writers only- Isaac Newton and Thomas Jefferson noted down their observations in the margins of texts.
When I created a poll on the art of annotating books, I already knew what the results would be. People who don't annotate won the poll. Even so, the number of people who do was no less. They were people who were keen readers. That is not to determine that those who dislike the practice don't read at all, but many of them who responded weren't readers. It's because annotating, in general, is discouraged and disapproved.
To understand it better, I had a conversation with two fellow readers. Samina Parveen, a poet, graphic designer, and the founder of Inertia Teens says: "I think I always borrowed a book from a friend or library so firstly when I started reading it was expensive to get books. So I borrowed. That's why I never annotated because it wasn't my property. Later on, when I bought books I had to share them with my sister so as an act of respect to the book and the next reader, I keep it clean. Anyone who is reading after me might have their thoughts, feelings, and opinions on the book. I did not want them to get influenced by my annotation." This perspective was quite logical. Annotations remain in the book just as the actual text. Despite its appeal, its lasting nature makes it a lesser preferred practice.
Paula (@wmgpdlv) has a different idea: "I love how annotating personalizes my books and makes me want to reread them someday. It’s like having a diary but with context since it has a storyline. Also, it improves my comprehension because it pushes me to make sense of everything I read. Plus, it’s such a fun experience. Reading, for me, becomes a lot more enjoyable and memorable when I annotate. It takes time but the satisfaction of having a fully-tabbed book with inked pages can make it worth it."
Mark O'Connell points an equally significant point in his article for The New Yorker: "There has recently been a slight but noticeable escalation of interest in marginalia, partly because of the way in which the Internet has cultivated readers’ enthusiasm for discussion of their own reading practices and peculiarities."
With the change in times and the internet being the sole precursor of initiating habits and trends, this view rings true. The "bookstagram" community is often driven towards collective practices amidst readers.
What I deciphered from the conversations is that the answer depends on the practicality of it or the aesthete, subjective idea surrounding it. People who don’t annotate think of the book to be preserved for the next reader in line. Those who do are concerned with their connection with the text.
Another important aspect to consider is how annotating might help a reader to slowly turn into a writer as well. I find it crucial for students to be allowed to connect with the reading material in the way they prefer. Only when students are taught to put pencil to paper will they ever inculcate the habit of putting pen to paper. We are always taught the text but enough chances need to be given to let people analyse and connect with the text by themselves.
There is still an infinite number of possibilities when it comes to reading and academia. It is for the reader to choose what works best for themselves and their books.
Halin Roche
Halin Roche is doing her M.A Literature. She is the founder and EIC of Chasing Shadows Magazine. She is a teacher, a budding poet, and a freelance content writer from Mumbai. Anything and everything related to arts, literature, and music is her passion, and so is poetry.