Commandos of the Margins

For some years I have been collecting the writings of that type of reviewer who, despite his pugnacity, insists on being anonymous. He is the gentleman (I use the courtesy title against my better judgment) whom we all know so devastatingly well—the scribbler on the margins of library books. The hobby of collecting such scribblings (should I call it philos‐graffitism?) has the supreme advantage of costing nothing. But it garners a rich if suppurating harvest of what one might call “literary sidelights”.