Kenneth Spencer Research Library

American author Henry V. Miller (1891-1980) is a divisive literary figure, one who has amassed a dedicated cult following, and yet, whose presence in scholarly discourse has traditionally been somewhat limited. Miller is most widely known for his years in Paris, which resulted in the notorious Tropic of Cancer (1934), famously banned for obscenity in the United States for nearly three decades. Despite his popular characterization as a writer who magnified the obscene and grotesque, it’s not uncommon to find Miller falling into extended, heartfelt reveries covering a profound range of subjects, a contrast that contributes to his reputation as an eclectic writer.

Spencer Library holds a wide range of Henry Miller’s published works, such as an edition of Plexus (1963) limited to two thousand copies. However, the item that might be of most interest to the Miller enthusiast is a small collection of his papers (Call Number: MS P216). This collection primarily consists of typewritten onionskin manuscripts dating from the 1930s, as well as handwritten letters composed during the 1950s. I found the typewritten pieces particularly intriguing; according to the online finding aid, they mostly originate from Miller’s overflowing attempts to write an essay on English novelist D. H. Lawrence.

In her biography of Miller, Mary Dearborn details how the D. H. Lawrence project, or “the Brochure” as it was initially called, developed as Miller was attempting to publish Tropic of Cancer in 1932. The only publisher whose attention he managed to get was Jack Kahane of Obelisk Press, who had misgivings about publishing the controversial contents of Tropic. Thus, Miller was asked to compose an essay on Lawrence in order to assert himself as an intellectual and gain more credibility. [1] The project was eventually published as The World of Lawrence: A Passionate Appreciation, much later in 1980.

I discovered that very little of the Miller manuscripts at Spencer Library actually appear in any published form. The most perplexing was “Self-Portrait,” a four-part piece that is largely devoid of any connection to the D. H. Lawrence essay, especially in its earlier sections. Within it, Miller mentions the “Universe of Death,” a chapter within The World of Lawrence and The Cosmological Eye (1939). Yet, it bears little resemblance to the section as it appears in the book. Similarly, there is a short description of the 1933 film “Extase,” which was likewise detailed in a chapter of the same name in The Cosmological Eye, yet its appearance within “Self-Portrait” is a different piece altogether. The more I read “Self-Portrait,” the more it appeared as a familiar part of Miller rather than a focused reflection on Lawrence (hence the title). The manuscript, framed around a walk through Paris during springtime, bears many hallmarks of Henry Miller’s original style, such as ornate, unconventional prose, descriptions of sordid and lurid elements lurking underneath the quotidian, a personification of Paris, dubious biographical details and nostalgic reminiscences on his earlier days in Brooklyn, musing on favorite authors (Proust and Dostoevsky), and a meandering, abstract form.

The fact that “Self-Portrait” presents itself as creative piece, rather than an analytical one, hints towards its eventual fate. Biographer Jay Martin details that, while Miller “originally regarded ‘Self-Portrait’ as a note to the ‘Universe of Death’ or a coda to ‘The World of Lawrence,’ he always planned it as a personal statement … [taking shape] by looking at himself, or portraying his experience, in a variety of ways.” [2] And Dearborn states that “Miller’s new book, tentatively called ‘Self-Portrait,’ … would eventually appear as Black Spring.” [1] This appears to be the definitive answer: “Self-Portrait,” written as a marginal addition to Miller’s project on D. H. Lawrence, became the premise for a new book entirely, and eventually grew into his collection Black Spring (1936). The process of researching Miller’s “Self-Portrait” emphasized one of the most rewarding aspects of my job here at Spencer Library: being able to uncover little-known parts of literary and cultural history.

Nile Russo
Public Services Student Assistant

[1] Dearborn, Mary V. The Happiest Man Alive: A Biography of Henry Miller. New York: Simon & Schuster, [1992]: 156-163. 

[2] Martin, Jay. Always Merry and Bright: The Life of Henry Miller: An Unauthorized Biography. Santa Barbara, Calif, London: Capra Press ; Sheldon Press, [1979]: 293f.

Special thanks to Special Collections Curator Elspeth Healey for directing me towards the Dearborn and Martin biographies of Henry Miller.

This post was written Public Services student assistant Kit Cavazos as part of their summer internship supervised by KU English Professor Misty Schieberle and Special Collections Curator Eve Wolynes.

Although medieval manuscripts are well-known for their look and style, the act of actually reading and understanding one can be tough. The image that often comes to mind is that of their non-naturalistic drawings, and thus, a casual viewer may see the squiggles sprinkled across the text as another odd decoration. However, many serve specific and intentional functions, acting as contractions, substitutions, or abbreviations of words or parts of words. Scribes often chose this practice because it saved on ink and parchment space, since both these materials were quite expensive.

The first and most prominent thing to note about manuscript notation is the dashes that are most often placed over vowels. Most of the time, these indicate a missing letter N or M. For example, “terram” shortens to “terrā.” The page above has quite a few examples in the first line: “qua[m],” “lapide[m],” and “lapide[m].”

Dashes can often have other meanings when interacting with a consonant, either by hovering above or crossing the letter. The incipit line of the above page has a quite recognizable first word, which substitutes an I for a J. This letter difference is generally because Latin, as a language, does not use the letter J, meaning our first word is “Judea.” Thus it is easier to understand part of the next noun, which has a letter L with a dash intersecting it, with the result resembling a stylized letter T. Picking out when a letter is a T or an L is made easy by way of comparison, as the page’s script will always have a style that differentiates letter that could be confused.

Thus, this L with an intersecting dash in the spine could represent a few similar letter clumps: “ler…,” “…ul,” “lor…,” or “al…,” among others. Despite knowing exactly what variations the letter could stand for, it still introduces a new wrinkle into the fold, as none of the suggested meanings for the substitutions seem to make the word wholly understandable. “Jerlerm,” “Jerulm,” “Jerlorm,” and “Jeralm” are not proper words, and thus, the contraction demonstrates how common words (such as proper nouns) could have more of an abstract contraction. When examining this word in context, it might be a bit easier to understand that this contraction represents the city named “Jerusalem.”

Another common symbol is this: , which often represents a “rum,” “ram,  or “rem” sort of ending. The above example has multiple instances of its use within the first line, all taking the first possible ending. The line, when uncontracted, would read “verbi salutaris ac miraculorum suorum dulcidine” (“by the sweetness of his saving word and miracles”). These textual changes – both contractions and substitutions – indicate that both scribes and readers needed to have not only a deep understanding of what each symbol represented, but also a sense of the language. You could either look at the Latin and parse some words, or you could understand how to complete the words but have their meaning completely lost on you. This afforded the literate members of the population some form of exclusivity from everyone else. These manuscripts often contain important information about plants, animals, or other general encyclopedic knowledge.

Another important aspect of a manuscript is additions that enhance a reader’s understanding of the text. The most obvious would be the fingers pointing to specific lines. These are manicules, and they are meant to emphasize important parts of the text. Another detail does something similar on the above page. The red lines highlighting specific letters are forms of rubrication, and they have a very similar function to manicules. In this instance, they mean to indicate and emphasize the capital letters in the line.

In other instances, rubrication notates significant parts of the text and frequently has a moralizing meaning. This means it can also come in textual form – often called the rubric – and it can add, emphasize, or reiterate important information to the reader. The term rubrication comes from the Latin word “ruber” (“red”), but important elements to a manuscript are not restricted solely to one color. Red often sees the most use, but blue and occasionally green can also be used for emphasis or decoration.

With these basic understandings of common aspects of a medieval text (at least within the Spencer collection), reading a manuscript for the first time may be less daunting. The above page, for example, has several features already discussed. Most prominently, the rubrication stands out from the rest of the content, especially in the rubricated initial letters A and I, which have blue decoration that appears to mimic a lace design. The first rubricated word of the text is in the incipit line, which has the same L with an intersecting dash as before. Thus, we know the word would be something like “pp[ul]m” or something similar. If you don’t have a book on contractions easily to hand, sometimes sounding out what letters you do have can help make sense of the word – “populum,” in this instance. Thus, reading through the incipit line, it would say something like “Absol[v]e q[uaesumu]s D[omine] p[o]p[u]l[um] n[ostr]o[rum] vincula peccato[rum]” (“we beseech you, O Lord, to absolve our people from the bonds of their sins”). From even just this first line, we can understand that the reader is meant to focus on the people or population about whom it is speaking.

Reading through a medieval text can be difficult; even just reading one line without translation can take hours, depending on how many contractions or abbreviations there are, as well as how obscure each one may be. The result, though, is quite often rewarding, as it means modern readers can understand how information was relayed and what information medieval writers saw as needing to be relayed. An online resource for information on specific abbreviations is Cappelli’s Latin Abbreviations, which has been incredibly helpful for research and compiling the transcription of these lines.

Kit Cavazos
Public Services student assistant

Kenneth Spencer Research Library’s current short-term exhibit explores some choice items from the library’s collection of medieval seals. This is a collaborative project put together by myself – Kaya Taylor – and my collaborator Eli Kumin, both of us long-time student workers here at the library.

Eli and I have cultivated a particular interest in medieval wax seals, spurred on by our work on a Sanders Scholar research project under the supervision of Dr. John McEwan. Beginning in September 2024, we spent the project exploring the Abbey Dore collection (Call Number: MS Q80) at Spencer, given the remarkably well-preserved seals and documents dating back from the 12th and 13th centuries. As the project came to a close in May 2025, Eli and I realized that we could memorialize our work and interests in the form of an exhibit case. Titled Sigillum, it is our way of giving others a look into these fascinating and unique pieces of history, here to be enjoyed roughly 4,000 miles away from where they originated.

The overarching narrative of the Abbey Dore collection is one of property and the interplay between royal and religious power in the medieval period. The language used in the documents points to the exchange of land for the salvation of the donors and their loved ones, e.g. “for her soul and the soul of Madoc [her husband]” (Call Number: MS Q80:13).

Visitors may notice there is one document unlike the others in the exhibit case, labeled “land conveyance of Sir Roger Lasceles to his four daughters” (Call Number: MS C150). Although separate from the Abbey Dore collection, this document is included because it’s a particular favorite of ours and it boasts several unique qualities: a chirograph edge and three intact seals with very clear impressions. We chose to include it at the starting point of the exhibit because of its eye-catching quality, pulling visitors into the discussion of further seals and documents within the case.

Although Eli and I came to know the Abbey Dore collection very well over time, we still felt a bit confused as to the relative geography of the Welsh Marches and the locations mentioned in the collection. We felt that visitors could benefit from seeing a map of the region, and so we resolved to make one that centered the relevant places and landmarks stretching across the Welsh-English border. Ultimately, we used ArcGIS software to put together the map seen in the exhibit.

We hope that Sigillum gives visitors a chance to appreciate not just the wax seals themselves, but the real human stories that stand behind them. We are excited to offer this glimpse into the medieval past, and grateful for the opportunity to bring these objects to light at Kenneth Spencer Research Library.

Sigillum: Seals and the Making of Medieval Authority is free and open to the public in Spencer’s North Gallery through July 31st.

Kaya Taylor and Eli Kumin
Public Services student assistants
KU Libraries Sanders Scholars 2024-2025

This is the latest installment in a series of posts introducing readers to student employees who make important contributions to the work of Spencer Research Library. Today’s profile features Ceres Botkin, a Public Services student assistant.

Please provide some brief biographical information about yourself.

My name is Ceres Botkin (they/them) and I’ve been working in Public Services at Spencer since the spring of my freshman year in 2022. I am currently completing the fifth and final year of my undergraduate program, and I will graduate with degrees in mathematics, physics, and computer science. I hope after graduation to either go to graduate school in physics or library science.

What does your job at Spencer entail?

I work in the Public Services department, which entails helping library patrons find and access library materials germane to their research interests. This involves being familiar with the collections and the several strengths of our library. I’ve also worked with several curators on numerous projects from sorting and cataloging donations to helping with research for temporary exhibits.

In addition, I have also helped out in other departments as needed. For example, I have worked in Conservation Services with construction of glass plate housings along with making Mylar book jackets. I have also helped in the cataloging department by aiding the process of integrating newly cataloged material into the wider library collection.

Why did you want to work at Spencer Research Library?

My previous on-campus job involved staffing the front desk of a residence hall between the hours of 3am and 7am. I wanted a job that felt more fulfilling and had better hours. In addition, I had a friend who worked at Spencer who enjoyed the work.

When my friend recommended the position to me, I was reminded of my previous desire when I was a teenager to work at my local public library. The library held a special place in my heart, as I would frequent it over the summers as a third place to go that was separate from my home and school. I would meet up with friends and do research for upcoming debate tournaments there. I always thought it would be nice to give back to my community by also working at a library and supporting one of the few remaining institutions in the U.S. that provides free resources, education, and entertainment.

What has been most interesting to you about your work?

I would definitely say that sorting and cataloging donations is the most interesting part of my job. My first project working at the library, in fact, was sorting 20th-century Star Trek zines. Zine culture is very interesting, and it was wonderful to peek into another world. In addition, it was really cool to see all of the various pieces of art and read the stories that were contained inside.

In addition, I love exploring the different collections and talking with the curators about how we started some of them. For instance, the Literary Ephemera collection in Special Collections is always fascinating to browse because it is mostly comprised of outsider art and poetry. They’re not only interesting to read in a vacuum, but they also provide interesting commentaries on the times they were created in.

What are you studying, and what do you hope to do in your future career? Has your work at Spencer changed how you look at your studies or your future career plans in any way?

As mentioned previously, I am currently studying mathematics, physics, and computer science. Originally I planned on going into graduate school in order to pursue a Ph.D. in physics, but working at the library has made me consider going into library work as well. It would be interesting to get a master’s degree in library science and work at a library after graduation. In addition, I have also considered using my computer science degree and going into the field of digital archives – archiving material which is only digital. For example, I was considering working at the Internet Archive, which houses numerous websites, books, recordings, videos, and software.

What piece of advice would you offer other students thinking about working at Spencer Research Library?

Never assume that any resources available to you will always be available to you. First get familiar with what resources are provided by your local community, government, and university. Second, never stop fighting for those resources. In the context of the library, never stop fighting for the open access of information, funding, and a place to study and relax without having to pay first. Also please donate to your local library if you are in a position to do so.

Ceres Botkin
Public Services student assistant

This is the latest installment in a series of posts introducing readers to student employees who make important contributions to the work of Spencer Research Library. Today’s profile features Oliver Grotegut, a Cataloging and Archival Processing student assistant and a G. Baley Price Fellow.

Please provide some brief biographical information about yourself.

I am a senior at KU majoring in linguistics with a minor in sociology. I started working at Spencer in March 2024.

What does your job at Spencer entail?

My job is to inventory University Archives materials so that ArchivesSpace, our online collection database, can be updated. We gained quite a lot of material in the years since the last update, so this long-term inventory project ensures that anyone can easily find materials we have available in the University Archives.

Why did you want to work at Spencer Research Library?

I wanted to work at Spencer, or really in archives in general, because I was interested in a job optimizing materials for public use and finding relevant patterns and throughlines in large groups of information. I knew that library or archival work was the ideal field to find such a job. I feel my time at Spencer has provided me with an invaluable amount of knowledge from hands-on learning about archival work, information organization, and document care and preservation that I look forward to bringing with me into a career in archives.

What has been most interesting to you about your work?

There has been a lot I have found enjoyable about my work. It has been especially interesting to sort through decades worth of accepted and denied grant applications and project proposals, and seeing what research was considered novel and worthwhile over the years. By far my favorite record group to inventory so far has been the student housing records. So many of the materials in that group – scrapbooks, incident reports, event planning forms – exemplify what life was like for KU students at any given time.

One I think of the most often is a document from the 1950s where all the residents of Miller Hall explain why they would or would not be alright with having a African American resident move into their scholarship hall the following year. The residents provided in-depth, incredibly honest descriptions about their perspectives on the matter. Rightfully, much of the education and discussion of the civil rights movement focuses on the actions and experiences of African Americans at the time. Seeing the privately held opinions of white Americans at the time, especially those occupying all-white spaces, provides a great deal of further context to the realities of the climate at that moment in history. I also find it interesting sociologically that the matter of potentially having an African American resident in Miller Hall was considered worthy of being discussed and voted on, and the existence of the document says a great deal not just about the opinions of the residents but of the student housing administrators. For those interested, the majority of the opinions were in favor of racial integration, and Miller Hall gained at least one African American resident the following year.

On a lighter note, I also like getting to put new labels on the boxes.

Oliver Grotegut
Cataloging and Archival Processing student assistant
G. Baley Price Fellow