All the Knowledge in the World: The Extraordinary History of the Encyclopedia
(Libby/OverDrive eBook, Kindle)

Garfield (Just My Type, 2011) traces a general history of the encyclopedia, and more specifically, the Encyclopaedia Britannica. He structures the narrative like an encyclopedia, with alphabetical entries beginning with A for Andrew Bell, who contributed over 500 engravings to the first four editions of Britannica. Launched in Edinburgh in 1768, Britannica was birthed during a "golden age" of encyclopedias that enticed would-be readers to educate themselves, thereby becoming a part of modern society. Garfield notes that the second edition grew exponentially, partly due to the addition of biography, which skewed heavily toward writers, the clergy, and artists. Britons and Scots were favored and were lauded in moralistic tones; elsewhere, exoticism prevailed. People of color were presented as inferior, and entries featuring women were paltry at best. Cheaper printing costs hastened the growth of encyclopedias, as did American businessmen, who peddled sets to the layperson. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Garfield's denouement is W for Wikimania and X for Extinction. Fans of Simon Winchester's The Professor and the Madman (1998) and readers who don't mind plenty of intriguing digression will devour it.

Replicating the A-to-Z structure of its subject, this quirky and entertaining history of encyclopedias spotlights volumes that are "the most significant or interesting or indicative of a turning point in how we view the world." According to journalist Garfield (The End of Innocence), these include the 1768 first edition of the Britannica (the "gold standard" in English) and its modern-day descendant, Wikipedia, which "plundered huge amounts" of the Britannica's 11th edition when it launched in 2001. Along the way, Garfield covers ancient Roman scholar Pliny the Elder's Naturalis Historia, a 37-volume series that enthusiastically ("Pliny seemed to be in love with the entire world") encompassed wine growing, geography, mineralogy, and more; the "Dime Bank Close," a door-to-door sales technique highlighting the affordability of a World Book set in the 1970s and '80s ("Three dimes a day to put all the knowledge in the Western World at your child's fingertips"); and the yearslong, collaborative efforts by classics scholars to translate the Suda, a 10th-century Byzantine Greek historical encyclopedia. Garfield also makes room for lighter affairs, recounting episodes of Friends and Monty Python that featured encyclopedia salesmen. Fast-paced and fact-filled, this entertaining compendium is a worthy tribute to the pursuit of knowledge. Illus. (Feb.)

A wealth of research wrapped into an eccentric, charming package. Garfield is the author of several appealingly unusual books, such as Mauve, about the history of purple, and Just My Type, about the history of fonts. His latest fits easily into this unpredictable canon, combining information, entertainment, and insight. Garfield is clearly an aficionado, and he takes us into his ever growing collection. In tracking the history of encyclopedias, the author maintains focus on the Encyclopaedia Britannica, the longtime gold standard. Launched in 1768, it mixed material from existing sources with original articles from the editors. Later editions also used specialized contributors. "In 1926," writes Garfield, "George Bernard Shaw received $68.50 for his article on Socialism, while Albert Einstein received $86.40 for his piece on Space-Time." However, notes the author, the Britannica was far from the first attempt to consolidate all knowledge. Of course, the ancient Greeks and Romans took several shots at the project, but for sheer scale, the winner is the Yongle Dadian, which was commissioned by Zhu Di, an emperor of the Ming dynasty in China. It had 11,095 manuscript volumes, so large that there was only one copy made. Garfield has a good time exploring the evolution of the encyclopedia. "What is and isn't valued knowledge, and how best to present it, has been the recurring headache of every encyclopedia editor in history," he writes. The author peppers the text with peculiar entries from various volumes. Despite his droll sense of humor, he consistently makes important points about the fungible nature of knowledge and the way that language changes to reflect social trends. Hard-copy encyclopedias were eventually replaced, first with searchable CDs and, eventually, Wikipedia and other digital resources. In fact, Wikipedia "plundered huge amounts of Britannica's (out-of-copyright) eleventh edition as its core knowledge base," writes the author. Even as paper volumes approach extinction, their legacy endures. Garfield's great affection for his subject shines through, making this book a pleasing, intriguing read. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Garfield (Just My Type, 2011) traces a general history of the encyclopedia, and more specifically, the Encyclopaedia Britannica. He structures the narrative like an encyclopedia, with alphabetical entries beginning with A for Andrew Bell, who contributed over 500 engravings to the first four editions of Britannica. Launched in Edinburgh in 1768, Britannica was birthed during a "golden age" of encyclopedias that enticed would-be readers to educate themselves, thereby becoming a part of modern society. Garfield notes that the second edition grew exponentially, partly due to the addition of biography, which skewed heavily toward writers, the clergy, and artists. Britons and Scots were favored and were lauded in moralistic tones; elsewhere, exoticism prevailed. People of color were presented as inferior, and entries featuring women were paltry at best. Cheaper printing costs hastened the growth of encyclopedias, as did American businessmen, who peddled sets to the layperson. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Garfield's denouement is W for Wikimania and X for Extinction. Fans of Simon Winchester's The Professor and the Madman (1998) and readers who don't mind plenty of intriguing digression will devour it. Copyright 2023 Booklist Reviews.

Replicating the A-to-Z structure of its subject, this quirky and entertaining history of encyclopedias spotlights volumes that are "the most significant or interesting or indicative of a turning point in how we view the world." According to journalist Garfield (The End of Innocence), these include the 1768 first edition of the Britannica (the "gold standard" in English) and its modern-day descendant, Wikipedia, which "plundered huge amounts" of the Britannica's 11th edition when it launched in 2001. Along the way, Garfield covers ancient Roman scholar Pliny the Elder's Naturalis Historia, a 37-volume series that enthusiastically ("Pliny seemed to be in love with the entire world") encompassed wine growing, geography, mineralogy, and more; the "Dime Bank Close," a door-to-door sales technique highlighting the affordability of a World Book set in the 1970s and '80s ("Three dimes a day to put all the knowledge in the Western World at your child's fingertips"); and the yearslong, collaborative efforts by classics scholars to translate the Suda, a 10th-century Byzantine Greek historical encyclopedia. Garfield also makes room for lighter affairs, recounting episodes of Friends and Monty Python that featured encyclopedia salesmen. Fast-paced and fact-filled, this entertaining compendium is a worthy tribute to the pursuit of knowledge. Illus. (Feb.)