In Praise of Prefaces

I admit that for years and years I never read a preface in a book. It was just a bunch of front matter, like the colophon and table of contents, which stood between me and my intended reading material. I eagerly skipped over this obstruction to get drunk on the wine of words.

I didn’t know what I was missing. Shame on me!

The older I get the more I appreciate context, that amuse-bouche before partaking in the main course. The more I think about it, the more appropriate this metaphor seems. Not an appetizer, the amuse-bouche is a complimenary single-bite dish served by a chef before a meal to awaken the palate and prepare guests for the delights to come. It is not ordered from the menu and is instead a gift of the meal’s author.  

Prefaces are much the same. They provide the reader with a few insights into the creative process, a peek behind the curtain of what the author wants to communicate. It sets the tone for what’s to come, and whets the appetite. Not to mention, the best are worthy stand-alone literary works in their own right.

In The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, Anne Bronte boldly states her reasons for writing this proto-feminist novel, and doesn’t really care what you, society, or the critics think. But how eloquently she tells the haters to go pound sand.

Issac Asimov wins us over in his self-effacing and humorous prefeace to Foundation and Earth. When we go on to read the contents, it’s with a kinship to the author.

While we’re on the subject of front matter, forewords can offer their own fun or insights. I refer you thusly to If Chins Could Kill, the autobiography of everyone’s everyman, Bruce Campbell.

So don’t be in such a hurry to dive right into your next read. Check out what comes before.

Do you have any memorable prefaces to recommend?