The fine folks at RotoVision approached me about the project a while back, the idea being that it\'d be great to have a book for aspiring font designers who wanted an introduction to the commercial typographic world. I address the basics of typography, font design,

font creation with FontLab (including the basics through advanced topics such as OpenType features), and I address some of the nitty gritty of the commercial world of font creation as well. \n\nThe book is also available as a UK edition, called Digital Type.

I recently read a biography of J.D. Salinger, and, despite being largely disappointing, it did contain (in entirely unorganized ways) what I'm hoping is the entire list of Salinger’s stories. Here it is, for safe keeping... "The Young Folks", Story, March/Apr. 1940 "Go See Eddie", University of Kansas City Review, Dec. 1940 "The Hang of It", Collier's, July 12, 1941 "The Heart of the Broken Story", Esquire, Sept. 1941 "The Long Debut of Lois Taggett", Story, Sep./Oct. 1942 "Personal Notes on an Infantryman", Collier's, Dec. 12, 1942 "The Varioni Brothers", Saturday Evening Post, July 17, 1943 "Both Parties Concerned", Saturday Evening Post, Feb. 26, 1944 "Soft-Boiled Sergeant", Saturday Evening Post, Apr. 15, 1944 "The Last Day of the Last Furlough", Saturday Evening Post, July 15, 1944 "Once a Week Won't

Kill You", Story, Nov/Dec 1944 "A Boy In France", Saturday Evening Post, March 31, 1945 "Elaine", Story, 1945 "This Sandwich Has No Mayonnaise", Esquire, Oct. 1945 "The Stranger", Collier's, Dec. 1, 1945 "I'm Crazy", Collier's, Dec. 22, 1945 "Slight Rebellion Off Madison", New Yorker, Dec. 21, 1946 "A Young Girl in 1941 With No Waist At All", Mademoiselle, May 1947 "The Inverted Forest", Cosmopolitan, December 1947 "A Perfect Day for Bananafish", New Yorker, Jan. 31, 1948 "A Girl I Knew", Good Housekeeping, Feb. 1948 "Uncle Wiggly in Connecticut", New Yorker, March 20, 1948 "Just Before the War With the Eskimos", New Yorker, June 5, 1948 "Blue Melody", Cosmopolitan, Sept. 1948 "The Laughing Man", New Yorker, March 19, 1949 "Down at the Dinghy", Harper's, Apr. 1949 "For Esme With Love and Squalor", New Yorker, Apr. 8, 1950 "Teddy", New Yorker, Jan. 31, 1953 "Franny", New Yorker, Jan. 29, 1955 "Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters", New Yorker, Nov. 19, 1955 "Zooey", New Yorker, May 4, 1957 "Seymour, An Introduction", New Yorker, June 6, 1958 "Hopworth 16, 1924", New Yorker, June 19, 1965

I have done no historical research on this phenomenon, so I’m not sure exactly when it became standard practice — which strange person in the middle of a performance started clapping and whistling, and how, instead of just throwing the offender out of the hall, others in the audience decided to follow suit — but I’d like here to do some analysis and try to breathe some reason into this odd bit of irrational behavior. If I can convince one person to stop applauding during a jazz tune, it will have been worth it; if I can convince no one, well, then I still will have the narcissistic pleasure of railing against something I see as wrong. For those who aren’t familiar with jazz concerts, let me bring you up to speed. A jazz song generally follows a standard format: a statement of the melody, then solos, and then a re-statement of the melody. The solos, typically, take as their foundation the underlying chord

progression of the melody, strip the melody away, and have an individual musician come front and center (metaphorically, if not physically) and improvise a sort of a spontaneous melody over those chords. After one musician plays through several iterations of the form of the song, she ends her solo and the next musician starts his solo. The problem, as I see it, is in the space between solos. After one solo ends, protocol (confused, horrible protocol) dictates that the audience noisily congratulate the player who just finished. The resulting applause drowns out the beginning of the next solo, as well as all of the other musicians who are trying to keep the momentum going. Now, obviously I understand the hedonistic desire to laud the musician who (hopefully) just inspired you with her brilliant improvisation. But let’s take a look at what happens when you applaud during the middle of a song. The first thing to note…