George Myers Jr.
Collage & Literature: Re-Membering the Pieces
1.
Paul Metcalf (1917-1999) was an American author who explored the impact of the American past on people and our natural resources. He wrote as a documentarian, juxtaposing bits of his fiction with the biographies of noted individuals, chunks from the public record, and his own family history. (Melville, a frequent subject of Metcalf’s inclusion, was his great-grandfather.) Metcalf gives his readers a story to follow, in each of his books, but his texts are essentially exploration narratives about explorers, creativity, and the random process of discovery. His books helped set the stage for many writers’ hybrid books that followed.
In his book Genoa: A Telling of Wonders (1965), Metcalf used incidents from the life of Melville and Christopher Columbus to tell a semi-fictional story of two brothers — the one who is alive can’t stop thinking about the one who is dead. In one of the book’s parallel stories, Metcalf can’t stop thinking about Melville, the literary brother of a kind, who lived large in Metcalf’s books. Genoa’s fictional narrator is Michael Mills, a doctor who struggles to understand how his brother Carl came to murder a child. Carl was executed for the crime.
In a subsequent work, Apalache (1976), Metcalf again gathered carefully appropriated materials to construct a story. The central focus of Apalache is cultural appropriation itself, with Metcalf zooming in on the story of Hernando de Soto, the Spanish conquistador who invaded the Incas and appropriated so much. By reshuffling history as he chooses, Metcalf takes authorial control of de Soto, subordinating the conquerer in a way that many revisionists might find appealing.
Metcalf’s other major books include Waters of Potowmack (1982), a documentary history of the Potomac River from the Mesozoic era to LBJ’s time; U.S. Dept. of the Interior (1980), and I-57 (1988). In each, Metcalf combined his source material in the way that exhibit curators arrange or display paintings or sculptures — by positioning one object near another to amplify or generate a theme. Metcalf and his wife Nancy stayed over at my place not long after Waters of Potowmack was published, and I asked him how he made that book.
“My intention,” he said, “was to write a comprehensive, documentary history of the Potomac River basin— that piece of geography that literally defines itself by the borders of that river’s drainage basin. I wanted not only the human history, pre- and post-Columbian, but the history of the land itself, the geology, and the land’s non-human tenants, the flora and fauna. It quickly became apparent that major events in American history have taken place within these borders. And, further, that an event such as the Battle of Gettysburg, say, has its parallel in the interdigitation of plant and animal life, northern and southern, on Potomac islands, or West Virginia hills.
“The method worked out for handling all this was to establish a chronology of human history, from the Indians and the earliest whites to the nineteen-sixties, the ‘present’ when the book was written; and to interject here and there, throughout the book, data on the geology, geography, plants, birds, fish, animals, etc.— the earth and our co-tenants as an ever-present setting for human events.”
By recontextualizing history, he was able tap in to different registers, styles, and voices. Notably, the seams of his materials don’t merely show but are displayed. Metcalf doesn’t puree his materials into a blended narrative, and the result gives his books the feel of historicity. As in, every bit of this could be true. And he deeply annotates his particulars, which suggests that his version of history is unassailable. Funny, that Metcalf, because his books ask us to assail history.
For Metcalf, the past is a changeable experience that invites revision. His books challenge the idea that a single, linear narrative can accurately capture the complexities of history. This is Metcalf’s SOP. He incorporated fragments from a wide range of sources to prompt readers to question their assumptions about originality, fact, recorded history, and authorship.
2.
More than 20 million combatants and civilians died as a result of World War I, including the artists Marc, Gaudier-Brzeska, Mack, Rosenberg and Boccioni. Those who survived included Leger, Nash, Ernest, Dix, and George Braque, whose skull was penetrated by shrapnel on May 11, 1915.
The German expressionist Ernest Barlach, once a war hawk, joined up, fought, and returned home a pacifist. He then sculpted a number of remarkable anti-war objects including The Floating One (1927), a horizontal figure resembling a flying angel, that he shaped like a propelled bomb. (The Nazis melted it down to nothing, in 1937, because of its anti-war sentiment. The piece was recast in 1987.)
3.
B.S. Johnson's novel The Unfortunates (1969) consists of 27 unbound chapters that can be read in any order. The main character, who is never named, is haunted by the death of a close friend. At its core, Johnson’s novel is a meditation on the nature of memory and the way that different events and experiences can be connected in unexpected ways. The Unfortunates is also a meditation on the ways death can shape how we see the world.
By presenting the novel’s chapters in a non-linear format, Johnson (1933-1973) forces us to piece together the story in ways that reflect the fragmented nature of memory. The book’s structure allows him to explore the connections between seemingly disparate experiences, revealing their web of relationships.
4.
Egyptian papyrus was an ancestor, but paper-making as we know has been traced to China, around AD 150, when a member of the imperial court combined mulberry and other soft fibers with fishnets, old rags, and hemp waste to make paper. By the 1100s, Japanese artists were using paper and silk to create collaged materials. Paper collage emerged 300 years later in Europe and then popularly in Victorian England through scrapbooking and Valentines cards.
5.
The German philosopher and cultural critic Walter Benjamin (1892-1940) wrote extensively about montage. In his 1936 essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” he argued that the ability to reproduce and manipulate images through technology had fundamentally changed the way that art is created and perceived. He believed that the juxtaposition of different images or fragments of images in a single work was a fair way to express the fragmented, discontinuous nature of modern life, particularly after World War I. According to Benjamin, montage wasn’t merely a technical process, but a form of critical and political engagement. By combining images in unexpected ways, he suggested artists could challenge dominant narratives and expose the underlying power structures that shape society.
6.
Before joining the French army, in 1912, Braque visited an Avignon shop where he bought a roll of decorative paper, which simulated oak paneling. He glued strips of it onto white paper, added bits of wallpaper, and used charcoal sticks to pencil in distorted versions of a drinking glass, pears, grapes and two words: BAR and ALE, French for “let’s go.” He mixed in sand and gesso, which visually pulls forward the background of the piece, and called the whole of it Fruit Dish and Glass.
The same year, his friend Picasso pasted some torn oilcloth and a hunk of wicker chair caning to the surface of an oil painting of café fare. He framed it with rope and called it Still Life with Chair Caning.
7.
Don DeLillo's novel Underworld (1997) tells the story of America in the latter half of the 20th century, from the dawn of the atomic age, to the end of the Cold War. It’s divided into five parts, each structured as a collage of different voices and perspectives. They range from historical documents to personal narratives to fictionalized accounts of real events. DeLillo (1936-) used collage to explore how different narratives and voices come together to recreate the past.
His opening section is striking. It takes place at a famous baseball game between the New York Giants and the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1951. DeLillo uses this moment to explore the history of baseball, the rise of consumer culture, the legacy of World War II, and the racial dynamics of postwar America. The section is structured as a series of vignettes, each focusing on a different character or aspect of the game, from the famous “Shot Heard 'Round the World” home run that won the game for the Giants, to the experience of a young boy attending the game with his father, to the musings of a group of intellectuals watching the game on television.
By using different narrative techniques, including stream-of-consciousness, dialogue, and third-person narration, DeLillo shows how differently people re-experience and remember the past. DeLillo also highlights the ways in which these narratives and perspectives are mediated by technology and the media, from the radio broadcasts of the game to the newspaper headlines that proclaim it a historic moment.
In the novel’s third section, which focuses on the aftermath of the Cold War, DeLillo writes about a group of artists creating an installation using Cold War artifacts, a group of nuclear scientists working to dismantle the weapons of the era, and a young woman traveling across the country to visit her estranged father, who is a former Cold War strategist.
By incorporating their different perspectives and voices, he highlights how historical forces shape memory, and how different narratives and perspectives come together to create a larger sense of history. He plays with the idea that language, too, is mediated and constructed, and that words and ideas can never fully capture the complexity of our experience.
8.
W.G. Sebald's book The Rings of Saturn (1995) is part travelogue, part memoir, part historical analysis, and part philosophical meditation. It, too, uses different narrative techniques to explore the crossroads of memory and history, but also the natural world. One of Sebald’s most striking strategies is to include photos and other visual images in his text, which visually compliments the books non-linear structure. He moves fluidly between different time periods and places, creating a multi-dimensional portrait of life.
By compeling us to examine the interconnectedness of reality and imagination, he invites a deeper reflection on the construction of personal and collective narratives. He was deeply influenced by Walter Benjamin, a proponent of montage. Montage, in Benjamin's view, reveals the hidden connections between seemingly unrelated phenomena.
Sebald (1944-2001) intersperses his prose with images of landscapes, buildings, artworks, and other objects encountered on his journey through the English countryside. The images serve as visual footnotes that amplify the themes and ideas explored in the text. Early in the book, for one example, he describes a visit to the Holkham Estate, a grand country house in Norfolk. He describes the grandeur of the estate, its sense of history, and tradition. But then, he includes a photo of a humble cottage on the estate, which reminds us that the grandeur of the estate was built on the backs of ordinary people who toiled in the fields and lived modestly nearby.
Sebald structures his book as a series of interconnected vignettes and digressions that move fluidly between different time periods, places, and perspectives. The non-linear narrative structure breaks down the boundaries between genres and creates a sense of openness and exploration within the text. In one section, Sebald describes a visit to the site of a former slave fort in Ghana. He reflects on the history of the slave trade and the ways in which this history is still present in the landscape and culture of Ghana. He then shifts to a discussion about the work of the German poet Gottfried Benn, whose writing dealt with the themes of decay and death. The connections between these two seemingly disparate topics isn’t immediately clear to me, but may lie in the idea of decay and loss, which is present in both the history of the slave trade and Benn's poetry.
Rings of Saturn is a kind of palimpsest, with rings of meaning and interpretation revealed through repeated readings. By including personal anecdotes, historical facts, and literary references, as Paul Metcalf did with his books, Sebald creates a sense of historical consciousness that permeates the text. For example, in one section of the book, he reflects on the life and work of Joseph Conrad, the Polish-British writer known for his novels about the sea and colonialism. Sebald notes that Conrad's work is deeply informed by his experiences as a sailor, and that his novels are a kind of “memory of the sea.” The idea that memory can be a kind of historical consciousness is a recurring theme in the book, and Sebald's use of collage reinforces this idea.
9.
Braque (1882-1963) needed almost two years to recover from his war injury. By then he was done with collage and began to focus on paintings characterized by carefully arranged objects, often including musical instruments, bottles, and fruit.
10.
Claudia Rankine’s Citizen: An American Lyric (2014) explores race and racism in America through poetry, prose, and images. The book is divided into seven sections, each examining a different aspect of racism. These sections range from personal encounters with racism to focuses on larger societal issues such as police brutality and the criminal justice system.
Rankine (1963-) examines the erasure of Black stories and perspectives in dominant narratives, and challenges those erasures by shining a light on the lived realities of Black people. That disrupts the notion that their experiences are interchangeable or inconsequential. Rankine's use of second-person narration in Citizen is unusual. By addressing the reader directly as “you,” she invites us to overwatch — to empathize and engage with the shared experiences of racial discrimination.
11.
Throughout The Rings of Saturn, we see that history can be rewritten or forgotten, and that memory can be clouded by trauma or the passage of time. In one of the book’s sections, Sebald reflects on the bombing of the German city of Hamburg during World War II. He notes that its destruction was so complete that it was almost as if it had never existed, and that the memory of the bombing has been largely erased from German national consciousness.
12.
Benjamin believed that the fragmentation and disorientation produced by montage could be a powerful tool for cultural and political resistance, allowing individuals to create new meanings and interpretations of the world around them. In his essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” he argued that the mechanical reproduction of art, such as photography and film, had the potential to also liberate art from its traditional associations with elitism and exclusivity.
13.
Rankine's language is spare and direct, capturing the nuances of everyday interactions that reveal the ways in which racism is often embedded in our language and social interactions. She recounts a moment with a white man who mistakes her for someone else. When she corrects him, he responds by saying, “Oh, I didn't recognize you.” She then reflects on how this response is both a form of erasure and reminder of the ways in which Black individuals are often seen as interchangeable.
14.
Benjamin recognized the danger that montage, especially in film, posed to art, as it could be co-opted by the dominant culture and used to reinforce existing power structures. To counteract this, he envisioned the use of montage as a way of disrupting the linear, unified narrative of traditional art and creating a different, fragmented narrative that allows for an equity of meanings and interpretations.
15.
Collage can create disorientation and confusion, but it reflects the way understanding works — as a patchwork of different experiences and moments, glued together to reveal context. Let’s go.
George Myers Jr. is the author of several hybrid books, including Natural History and Worlds Without End.
1.
Paul Metcalf (1917-1999) was an American author who explored the impact of the American past on people and our natural resources. He wrote as a documentarian, juxtaposing bits of his fiction with the biographies of noted individuals, chunks from the public record, and his own family history. (Melville, a frequent subject of Metcalf’s inclusion, was his great-grandfather.) Metcalf gives his readers a story to follow, in each of his books, but his texts are essentially exploration narratives about explorers, creativity, and the random process of discovery. His books helped set the stage for many writers’ hybrid books that followed.
In his book Genoa: A Telling of Wonders (1965), Metcalf used incidents from the life of Melville and Christopher Columbus to tell a semi-fictional story of two brothers — the one who is alive can’t stop thinking about the one who is dead. In one of the book’s parallel stories, Metcalf can’t stop thinking about Melville, the literary brother of a kind, who lived large in Metcalf’s books. Genoa’s fictional narrator is Michael Mills, a doctor who struggles to understand how his brother Carl came to murder a child. Carl was executed for the crime.
In a subsequent work, Apalache (1976), Metcalf again gathered carefully appropriated materials to construct a story. The central focus of Apalache is cultural appropriation itself, with Metcalf zooming in on the story of Hernando de Soto, the Spanish conquistador who invaded the Incas and appropriated so much. By reshuffling history as he chooses, Metcalf takes authorial control of de Soto, subordinating the conquerer in a way that many revisionists might find appealing.
Metcalf’s other major books include Waters of Potowmack (1982), a documentary history of the Potomac River from the Mesozoic era to LBJ’s time; U.S. Dept. of the Interior (1980), and I-57 (1988). In each, Metcalf combined his source material in the way that exhibit curators arrange or display paintings or sculptures — by positioning one object near another to amplify or generate a theme. Metcalf and his wife Nancy stayed over at my place not long after Waters of Potowmack was published, and I asked him how he made that book.
“My intention,” he said, “was to write a comprehensive, documentary history of the Potomac River basin— that piece of geography that literally defines itself by the borders of that river’s drainage basin. I wanted not only the human history, pre- and post-Columbian, but the history of the land itself, the geology, and the land’s non-human tenants, the flora and fauna. It quickly became apparent that major events in American history have taken place within these borders. And, further, that an event such as the Battle of Gettysburg, say, has its parallel in the interdigitation of plant and animal life, northern and southern, on Potomac islands, or West Virginia hills.
“The method worked out for handling all this was to establish a chronology of human history, from the Indians and the earliest whites to the nineteen-sixties, the ‘present’ when the book was written; and to interject here and there, throughout the book, data on the geology, geography, plants, birds, fish, animals, etc.— the earth and our co-tenants as an ever-present setting for human events.”
By recontextualizing history, he was able tap in to different registers, styles, and voices. Notably, the seams of his materials don’t merely show but are displayed. Metcalf doesn’t puree his materials into a blended narrative, and the result gives his books the feel of historicity. As in, every bit of this could be true. And he deeply annotates his particulars, which suggests that his version of history is unassailable. Funny, that Metcalf, because his books ask us to assail history.
For Metcalf, the past is a changeable experience that invites revision. His books challenge the idea that a single, linear narrative can accurately capture the complexities of history. This is Metcalf’s SOP. He incorporated fragments from a wide range of sources to prompt readers to question their assumptions about originality, fact, recorded history, and authorship.
2.
More than 20 million combatants and civilians died as a result of World War I, including the artists Marc, Gaudier-Brzeska, Mack, Rosenberg and Boccioni. Those who survived included Leger, Nash, Ernest, Dix, and George Braque, whose skull was penetrated by shrapnel on May 11, 1915.
The German expressionist Ernest Barlach, once a war hawk, joined up, fought, and returned home a pacifist. He then sculpted a number of remarkable anti-war objects including The Floating One (1927), a horizontal figure resembling a flying angel, that he shaped like a propelled bomb. (The Nazis melted it down to nothing, in 1937, because of its anti-war sentiment. The piece was recast in 1987.)
3.
B.S. Johnson's novel The Unfortunates (1969) consists of 27 unbound chapters that can be read in any order. The main character, who is never named, is haunted by the death of a close friend. At its core, Johnson’s novel is a meditation on the nature of memory and the way that different events and experiences can be connected in unexpected ways. The Unfortunates is also a meditation on the ways death can shape how we see the world.
By presenting the novel’s chapters in a non-linear format, Johnson (1933-1973) forces us to piece together the story in ways that reflect the fragmented nature of memory. The book’s structure allows him to explore the connections between seemingly disparate experiences, revealing their web of relationships.
4.
Egyptian papyrus was an ancestor, but paper-making as we know has been traced to China, around AD 150, when a member of the imperial court combined mulberry and other soft fibers with fishnets, old rags, and hemp waste to make paper. By the 1100s, Japanese artists were using paper and silk to create collaged materials. Paper collage emerged 300 years later in Europe and then popularly in Victorian England through scrapbooking and Valentines cards.
5.
The German philosopher and cultural critic Walter Benjamin (1892-1940) wrote extensively about montage. In his 1936 essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” he argued that the ability to reproduce and manipulate images through technology had fundamentally changed the way that art is created and perceived. He believed that the juxtaposition of different images or fragments of images in a single work was a fair way to express the fragmented, discontinuous nature of modern life, particularly after World War I. According to Benjamin, montage wasn’t merely a technical process, but a form of critical and political engagement. By combining images in unexpected ways, he suggested artists could challenge dominant narratives and expose the underlying power structures that shape society.
6.
Before joining the French army, in 1912, Braque visited an Avignon shop where he bought a roll of decorative paper, which simulated oak paneling. He glued strips of it onto white paper, added bits of wallpaper, and used charcoal sticks to pencil in distorted versions of a drinking glass, pears, grapes and two words: BAR and ALE, French for “let’s go.” He mixed in sand and gesso, which visually pulls forward the background of the piece, and called the whole of it Fruit Dish and Glass.
The same year, his friend Picasso pasted some torn oilcloth and a hunk of wicker chair caning to the surface of an oil painting of café fare. He framed it with rope and called it Still Life with Chair Caning.
7.
Don DeLillo's novel Underworld (1997) tells the story of America in the latter half of the 20th century, from the dawn of the atomic age, to the end of the Cold War. It’s divided into five parts, each structured as a collage of different voices and perspectives. They range from historical documents to personal narratives to fictionalized accounts of real events. DeLillo (1936-) used collage to explore how different narratives and voices come together to recreate the past.
His opening section is striking. It takes place at a famous baseball game between the New York Giants and the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1951. DeLillo uses this moment to explore the history of baseball, the rise of consumer culture, the legacy of World War II, and the racial dynamics of postwar America. The section is structured as a series of vignettes, each focusing on a different character or aspect of the game, from the famous “Shot Heard 'Round the World” home run that won the game for the Giants, to the experience of a young boy attending the game with his father, to the musings of a group of intellectuals watching the game on television.
By using different narrative techniques, including stream-of-consciousness, dialogue, and third-person narration, DeLillo shows how differently people re-experience and remember the past. DeLillo also highlights the ways in which these narratives and perspectives are mediated by technology and the media, from the radio broadcasts of the game to the newspaper headlines that proclaim it a historic moment.
In the novel’s third section, which focuses on the aftermath of the Cold War, DeLillo writes about a group of artists creating an installation using Cold War artifacts, a group of nuclear scientists working to dismantle the weapons of the era, and a young woman traveling across the country to visit her estranged father, who is a former Cold War strategist.
By incorporating their different perspectives and voices, he highlights how historical forces shape memory, and how different narratives and perspectives come together to create a larger sense of history. He plays with the idea that language, too, is mediated and constructed, and that words and ideas can never fully capture the complexity of our experience.
8.
W.G. Sebald's book The Rings of Saturn (1995) is part travelogue, part memoir, part historical analysis, and part philosophical meditation. It, too, uses different narrative techniques to explore the crossroads of memory and history, but also the natural world. One of Sebald’s most striking strategies is to include photos and other visual images in his text, which visually compliments the books non-linear structure. He moves fluidly between different time periods and places, creating a multi-dimensional portrait of life.
By compeling us to examine the interconnectedness of reality and imagination, he invites a deeper reflection on the construction of personal and collective narratives. He was deeply influenced by Walter Benjamin, a proponent of montage. Montage, in Benjamin's view, reveals the hidden connections between seemingly unrelated phenomena.
Sebald (1944-2001) intersperses his prose with images of landscapes, buildings, artworks, and other objects encountered on his journey through the English countryside. The images serve as visual footnotes that amplify the themes and ideas explored in the text. Early in the book, for one example, he describes a visit to the Holkham Estate, a grand country house in Norfolk. He describes the grandeur of the estate, its sense of history, and tradition. But then, he includes a photo of a humble cottage on the estate, which reminds us that the grandeur of the estate was built on the backs of ordinary people who toiled in the fields and lived modestly nearby.
Sebald structures his book as a series of interconnected vignettes and digressions that move fluidly between different time periods, places, and perspectives. The non-linear narrative structure breaks down the boundaries between genres and creates a sense of openness and exploration within the text. In one section, Sebald describes a visit to the site of a former slave fort in Ghana. He reflects on the history of the slave trade and the ways in which this history is still present in the landscape and culture of Ghana. He then shifts to a discussion about the work of the German poet Gottfried Benn, whose writing dealt with the themes of decay and death. The connections between these two seemingly disparate topics isn’t immediately clear to me, but may lie in the idea of decay and loss, which is present in both the history of the slave trade and Benn's poetry.
Rings of Saturn is a kind of palimpsest, with rings of meaning and interpretation revealed through repeated readings. By including personal anecdotes, historical facts, and literary references, as Paul Metcalf did with his books, Sebald creates a sense of historical consciousness that permeates the text. For example, in one section of the book, he reflects on the life and work of Joseph Conrad, the Polish-British writer known for his novels about the sea and colonialism. Sebald notes that Conrad's work is deeply informed by his experiences as a sailor, and that his novels are a kind of “memory of the sea.” The idea that memory can be a kind of historical consciousness is a recurring theme in the book, and Sebald's use of collage reinforces this idea.
9.
Braque (1882-1963) needed almost two years to recover from his war injury. By then he was done with collage and began to focus on paintings characterized by carefully arranged objects, often including musical instruments, bottles, and fruit.
10.
Claudia Rankine’s Citizen: An American Lyric (2014) explores race and racism in America through poetry, prose, and images. The book is divided into seven sections, each examining a different aspect of racism. These sections range from personal encounters with racism to focuses on larger societal issues such as police brutality and the criminal justice system.
Rankine (1963-) examines the erasure of Black stories and perspectives in dominant narratives, and challenges those erasures by shining a light on the lived realities of Black people. That disrupts the notion that their experiences are interchangeable or inconsequential. Rankine's use of second-person narration in Citizen is unusual. By addressing the reader directly as “you,” she invites us to overwatch — to empathize and engage with the shared experiences of racial discrimination.
11.
Throughout The Rings of Saturn, we see that history can be rewritten or forgotten, and that memory can be clouded by trauma or the passage of time. In one of the book’s sections, Sebald reflects on the bombing of the German city of Hamburg during World War II. He notes that its destruction was so complete that it was almost as if it had never existed, and that the memory of the bombing has been largely erased from German national consciousness.
12.
Benjamin believed that the fragmentation and disorientation produced by montage could be a powerful tool for cultural and political resistance, allowing individuals to create new meanings and interpretations of the world around them. In his essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” he argued that the mechanical reproduction of art, such as photography and film, had the potential to also liberate art from its traditional associations with elitism and exclusivity.
13.
Rankine's language is spare and direct, capturing the nuances of everyday interactions that reveal the ways in which racism is often embedded in our language and social interactions. She recounts a moment with a white man who mistakes her for someone else. When she corrects him, he responds by saying, “Oh, I didn't recognize you.” She then reflects on how this response is both a form of erasure and reminder of the ways in which Black individuals are often seen as interchangeable.
14.
Benjamin recognized the danger that montage, especially in film, posed to art, as it could be co-opted by the dominant culture and used to reinforce existing power structures. To counteract this, he envisioned the use of montage as a way of disrupting the linear, unified narrative of traditional art and creating a different, fragmented narrative that allows for an equity of meanings and interpretations.
15.
Collage can create disorientation and confusion, but it reflects the way understanding works — as a patchwork of different experiences and moments, glued together to reveal context. Let’s go.
George Myers Jr. is the author of several hybrid books, including Natural History and Worlds Without End.
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