Generally, when asked to write about the central idea of an essay called "How to Mark a Book," I would smile, be smart, and say that it was simply how to mark a book- duh. However, I thoroughly enjoyed this essay because the Adler tricks you into thinking it is going to be about how to take notes and pay attention to deals when in fact he is writing about the importance of communicating with the author by writing and questioning in the margins of the text. The central idea of this essay seems not to be how to actually mark in a book, but is simply stated in the second paragraph as 'I contend, quite bluntly, that marking up a book is not an act of mutilation but of love."
             I'm not exactly sure how I am supposed to go about supporting my claim with "specific evidence" when the entire text is evidence enough. He doesn't hide the fact that he believes writing in a book is the only way to truly understand it. I could give evidence by pointing out that he says "Full ownership comes only when you have made it a part of yourself, and the best way to make yourself a part of it is by writing in it." Or I could simply quote the line from the eighth paragraph when he ingeniously states "Arturo Toscanini reveres Brahms, but Toscanini's score of the C-minor Symphony is so thoroughly marked up that no one but the maestro himself can read it." The entire essay is pretty straightforward with its central idea and doesn't really need much explaining. This is interesting since the title of the essay is one which inflicts serious groaning-time on most people but turns out to be ironic. One thinks it is an instructional essay on how to physically mark in a book correctly only to find that it is actually an essay about allowing oneself to believe in the act of writing in books to become closer to what the author is trying to say to his audience. Although he does actually talk ...