Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? The following figure: “&” is called an ampersand. While we make use of its presence on our keyboards regularly, the story of its origin, evolution and integration into our written language is known only by those of us who are nerdy enough to spend our time researching the origins of type. And, I can tell you from experience, that if you’re considering entering the realm of typographic nerd-ery, be forewarned that it is a lonely place. Sure, you can find websites and books dedicated to the typographic arts, but in the real world, forget it. Your friends’ eyes will glaze over faster than you can say ligature. You will end up hearing yourself rambling on to a “listener” who has about as much interest in descenders and kerning as they do in repeating their college chemistry course.
There is, however, one significant difference between college chemistry and typography. The only practical thing you learned in chemistry is why water boils faster with a dash of salt thrown in (it boils at a lower temperature, remember?). Whereas typography, you use (and abuse) all day, every day. Whether you’re scribbling a hand-written note or typing something on a computer or hacking your way through language (and human decency) rules with today’s tXt MsG gRmaTcL NtMreS, you are putting to use the current evolutionary phase of the alphabet, which in my world, is a really cool thing, so I’ve taken to educating my friends (a little at a time) and now you (I promise it won’t hurt) about the magnificent world of typography, starting with the beloved ampersand.
So, as I was saying, the “&” symbol is an ampersand, and you will be surprised at what a rich history this charming little glyph has. To get to know it a little better, we need to look at the symbol itself and the word “ampersand.”
The Symbol
Now, here’s where you need to stay with me. Sometimes script letters, when placed next to each other, collide. A common culprit is the lower-case “f.” If it is placed next to an “i” or “l,” the top of the “f” tends to crash into, overtake or otherwise impede upon the dot in the “i” or the oh-so upright integrity of the “l.” So, a character called a ligature was created that gracefully combines the two offending letters into one glyph. Got it? Congratulations. You now know more about typography than most people.
The Latin word for “and” is “et.” Way back in the first century, the “e” and “t” were occasionally written together as a ligature. The ligature took many forms, and over the years moved away from the recognizable word “et” and more toward a stylized glyph that came to be understood as the symbol for “and.” Unlike many of the other ligatures that fell out of common use and are seen now only in publications that value typographic detail and correctness, the ampersand was widely accepted and integrated into popular use, and is now a commonly seen, and used, character.
The Word
Once embraced by the populace, the “and” symbol was placed in the honorific position of being the only ligature included in the alphabet, and was considered the 27th letter. It was simply called, “and.” When children were learning the alphabet, they were encouraged to say. “and per se” (“per se” is Latin for “by itself”) before letters that were also words in their own right, such as “I,” and “A,” and the poetic, but seldom used “O,” (think “O Holy Night”) as well as the hero of our story, the “&.” So the recitation would go something like this: “And per se A, B, C, D, E, F G, H, and per se I, J, K, L, M, N, and per se O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, and per se and.” Since “A,” “I”, and “O” already had names, they were simply called what they were. But, the “and” symbol was without a proper name, and was commonly referred to as “and per se and” which very nicely slurs right into ampersand, and with that bit of non-enunciation, a star was born.
In Conclusion
Now that you know a bit of the history of the ampersand, my hope is that you’ll start noticing all of the interesting forms that it—and all the letters and glyphs—take. And if you’ve fallen in love with with the ampersand, you’re in good company. Among typography enthusiasts, it is among the most celebrated and re-interpreted of all the characters. There is even a blog that is dedicated entirely to all-things ampersand. And, while its a bit tricky to draw (it took me 13 tries to get it just right), once you have it in your repertoire, you can dazzle your friends with your ampersand-ability, and the next time some type-nerd starts rambling on about serifs and em-dashes, you can shut them up with your story of the ampersand. We’ll see who’s the rambler then.
Paul M Davis
8 Comments
emily
love it!
01 Jun 2010 08:06 pm
Aron
fascinating.
04 Jun 2010 07:06 pm
Jeena
Love the story, told that way I have the feeling I want to know more about typography
06 Jun 2010 03:06 pm
paulmdavis
Tangentially related, Shit Ampersand, a collection of the worst ampersands in typographic history: http://shitampersand.com/
07 Jun 2010 03:06 pm
@AGingerSnaps
This is great! I love a good type story every now and again. makes me happy!
07 Jun 2010 03:06 pm
fact checker
wow. it's sad that the only thing you "learned" from chemistry is a total reversal of fact–something verifiable by simply boiling water for pasta and throwing salt into rapidly boiling water to see the rolling boil settle down. salt RAISES the boiling point of water. so water boils MORE SLOWLY with a dash of salt thrown it. practical knowledge isn't very practical when it's, you know, wrong. because then it's hard to apply practically. and that kind of goof takes two seconds to check on google, btw.
10 Jun 2010 09:06 pm
er0ck
wow. it's sad the only thing you could remark on (at great length) is an insignificant error that does not affect an otherwise well written and informative piece.
Great work Cat. Love your style!
12 Jun 2010 11:06 am
Cat Johnson
More proof that I was not born to be a chemist. Thanks for the correction Fact Checker.
12 Jun 2010 07:06 am
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