Verso

Patent papers. Drawings of railcars. Engineering notes. Photographs of trains and machine shops. These were the kinds of materials I expected to encounter as I began organizing the personal papers of William Riley McKeen Jr. (1869–1946), a mechanical engineer

Imagine my surprise when I read the following words in the acknowledgment section of Elizabeth Jane Howard: A Dangerous Innocence, Artemis Cooper's 2016 biography of the late English novelist.

As acting president of The Huntington, I am having the great pleasure of immersing myself in the wide-ranging activities that take place in this extraordinary institution. Our exhibitions program is chief among them, as it showcases both our research and educational missions.

The last decade has seen a surge of interest in historical fiction. Led by Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies—novels that chronicle the rise to power of Thomas Cromwell (1485–1540) in the court of King Henry VIII—these stories have dominated bestseller charts

One of the greatest joys for historians doing archival research is the opportunity to become lost in someone else's world. I had this experience during my recent fellowship at The Huntington as I delved into the papers of Nathaniel Bright Emerson

Early in his life, the celebrated British writer Evelyn Waugh (1903–1966) thought he'd make furniture for a living; he also studied art. While he ultimately abandoned those paths, his desire to make beautiful things never ceased.

As you stroll through the Frances and Sidney Brody California Garden, you may find it hard to believe that, just a few years ago, the same space was used primarily as a walkway and parking lot.

Five hundred years before government officials in some countries got in the business of censoring Instagram feeds or Twitter accounts, the Roman Catholic Church was using ink to black out text that it considered dangerous.