Marginalia: The Lost Art of Writing in Books

For some, writing in a book feels sacrilegious. For others, it’s a vital part of the reading process — a private conversation in the margins. Marginalia has existed for centuries, from monks in illuminated manuscripts to modern readers underlining poetry on subway rides. It’s a way to make the text yours.

Annotations give books a second voice — your own. When you underline, question, or note something beside a line, you extend the life of the story into your inner world. Your reactions, reflections, and contradictions form a visible trace of how the book met you in time.

This is especially powerful when revisiting books. Old notes become fossils of previous versions of ourselves. What once angered you may now seem wise; what inspired you then may now feel distant. Marginalia turns reading into a living relationship, not a one-time event.

Critics argue that writing in books diminishes their purity, but that presumes reading is passive. In truth, engagement — even tactile — brings literature to life. It creates a bridge between author and reader, mediated by ink and curiosity.

So whether it's a quick note or a full paragraph along the spine, marginalia isn’t defacement. It’s expression. It’s memory. It’s proof that you were there — not just reading, but living inside the page.