A head cold is enough of an excuse to push aside the composition essays and watch a movie on Netflix. And this particular head cold called for a viewing of “Helvetica,” the 2007 documentary on the ubiquitous font. For many, this particular typeface is clean, efficient, and malleable; for others, the font is industrial, impersonal, and boring.
If I return to that stack of composition papers, I’ll no doubt find page after page of Calibri, Microsoft Word’s “automatic” font. I prefer Times New Roman, a font with “tails” and authority. Manuscripts in Calibri are too open, trying too hard to be casual and informal. The typos in that font are loud against the paper. I’m considering making Times New Roman the required font for all paper assignments… which means my students will ask why it matters.
I suppose a commitment to language and literature also means a commitment to the presentation of that language and literature. I type my own manuscripts in Book Antiqua because the font reminds me of the books I read when I was a little girl–paperback copies of Anne of Green Gables and Rebecca of Sunnybrook of Farm. Book Antiqua means “classic” to my eye. The font is like a gift wrap for the language. While the words of any text carry a meaning, the “right” font supports (perhaps enhances) that meaning.
That is, it’s not just what we write, but how we write it.