A List of Subscribers
A subscriber’s list named the people who had paid a printer in advance, on faith, before a single sheet was pulled,1 and their names stood at the front of the finished book because without them there would have been no book at all. We have already paid for the printing. No gift is expected — that sentence is plain on purpose, and we would rather you read it twice than read the three cards below as a bill in better clothes. Every decision we have made about the fifteenth of May has gone the same way, which is to say in favour of fitting one more person into the room rather than polishing what each person is handed once inside it: an open bar and a long afternoon on grass, bought at the price of a shorter list of refinements. We would genuinely rather have the guest than the gift. What the list below records, and the only subscription we are collecting, is the answer yes.
The ordinary furniture of a life kept in one house instead of two: pans, linens, the unglamorous objects that will outlast the wedding by several decades and never once be photographed. Registered, conventionally, at [REGISTRY NAME].
[REGISTRY NAME]A chair endowed in the field of going somewhere and doing nothing, unrestricted, with no annual report to file and no committee to satisfy. The endowment funds a week in which neither of us grades, drafts, or answers anything.
[FUND LINK]One of us writes the books and the other teaches from them, and the merger has left us with four copies of some titles and none of others. This fund buys the shelves first, in the sure knowledge of what happens to a shelf afterwards.
[LINK]¶ The list stands in brackets for now and fills in as replies arrive; every name you see here is a place held for somebody we have not heard from yet. The annotations are the honest kind — a subscriber who took two copies was recorded as having taken two copies2 — and we intend to keep the practice.