The other day I enjoyed a raptus of inquiring into the concept of psychogeography, a term that was coined back in the 1950’s by the Paris-based collective of artists and cultural theorists who called themselves Letterist International. One of the leading Letterists, Guy Debord, was the first to wax poetic about what he called the dérive — an unplanned journey through a landscape — and in his writing he described this mode of movement as an integral tool for proper psychogeography. Reviewing the literature I noticed several references to Thomas De Quincey’s celebrated autobiographical account from 1821, Confessions of an English Opium-Eater. I rejoice in chasing rabbits down their rabbit holes, and thus one thing lead to another and a few days later this beautiful edition of the book — the 1950 printing by Heritage Press — was delivered to my door.

Will the book help me better understand the idea of psychogeography? Perhaps not. But it will remind me that the world has beauty in it, and there are wonderful things just waiting to be perceived. And in the end I wonder if, for a great part, this discovery (or rediscovery) of beauty and wonderful things is exactly what psychogeography is all about.

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Typography and layout in Confessions of an English Opium-Eater (Heritage Press, 1950). The type is Centaur, first designed (as titling capitals only) by Bruce Rogers for the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1914, and released for general consumption by Monotype in 1929. Photo: Martin Høyem
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Marbled paper covers the sides of the book as well as the slip-case. I’ve made some attempts at paper marbling myself, and created a library of my efforts. Photo: Martin Høyem

The sides are covered with a tough marbled paper, just such a tough marbled paper as decorated the books that Thomas de Quincey must have had in his library. And, with what we hope will seem to you a lavish disregard of expense (and with what was indeed a lavish disregard of expense), we have enclosed each copy in a staunch slip-case covered with the same tough marbled paper.

The marbling is done with mingling tones of green and tan. We think it is handsome; and we would add that it is suggestive of the fumes of opium if we didn’t know that you would immediately write to ask how we know anything about the fumes of opium!

From Sandglass. Pamphlet accompanying the publication of Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, 1950.
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Sandglass is the title of the pamphlet which accompanied Heritage Press publications. It typically contained some biography of the author and history on the book in question, and it also described the illustrations, typography, printing, binding, etc. Photo: Martin Høyem

Bibliography