Saturday, March 26, 2005

Bibliography: History of the book

I have to thank Richard W. Clement of the University of Kansas for this great resource:

Hagiography: Agostino Ramelli

This week we continue the project started last week: building out the hagiography of the theatrum machinarum. We now turn to the life of Agostino Ramelli, a contemporary of Jacques Besson. Unlike Besson—a protestant—Ramelli seems to have been a devout Catholic.

Ramelli’s work represents one of the greatest of the theatrum machinarum. As noted by Keller (1978): “Ramelli’s was the most splendid and comprehensive of all early books in the genre, with almost 200 plates, more than twice as many as its nearest rival.” While Ramelli’s work was extensive and popular, his inventions were not necessarily created solely on his own. The influence of earlier engineers, notably Franceso di Giorgio and Leonardo, are quite notable in his work (Keller, 1978). Reti (1972), for example, makes quite a credible case that Ramelli was influenced by the work of Leonardo (and therefore di Giorgio) as evidenced through various creations such as the double noria for raising water, cofferdams made of interlocking piles, and pumps with curved cylinders and conical valves.

It can be argued that no technical creation is born without the influence of earlier technologies. As noted by Basalla, “Any new thing that appears in the made world is based on some object already in existence.” (1988 pg. 45) Reti (1972) provides a list of the extant books dedicated at least in part to mechanical technology at the time of Ramelli’s work. They were Biringuccio’s Pirotechnia (1540), Agricola’s De re metallica (1556), Besson’s Theatre des instruments (1578), Errard de Bar-Le-Duc’s Instruments mathématiques (1584), and perhaps Carbano’s De subtiliatate (1550). Reti doesn’t necessarily pour the praise on these works noting that, “While Biringuccio’s and Agricola’s works are based on sound practical experience and reflect the true contemporary state of metallurgical and mining technology, Besson’s and Errard’s books belong to a different kind of technical literature; they deal with dreams more than facts, even if some of their dreams come true in a more or less distant future.” (pg. 602) Other technical manuscripts such as the work of Taccola or Kyeser may have also had an influence on Ramelli but the most obvious influence is Leonardo. Indeed, Leonardo’s ideas may have been introduced to the western world through the work of Ramelli.

Perhaps the most interesting example of Leonardo’s influence on Ramelli is the epicyclic gearing in his revolving bookcase. The bookcase has some notoriety in LIS circles, being mentioned by Petroski (1999) in his history of books and shelving. The gearing of the shelf, as clearly demonstrated by the models of Dante Gnudi (husband of Martha Teach Gnudi), is almost identical to a sketch that appears in Leonardo’s Codex Madrid I. The question now becomes, could Ramelli have seen Leonardo’s sketches? It’s certainly possible. Leonardo wrote the Codex Madrid I between 1490 and 1496, and the Codex Madrid II between 1503 and 1505. Leonardo himself entered the service of the French king after Francis I took Milan in 1515. Leonardo left for France the year after, and died in Ambroise in the year 1519. At the time of his death, his manuscripts fell into the care of Francesco Melzi who returned them to Italy. After his death, however, Melzi’s ancestors scattered the manuscripts. Many of them appear to have accumulated in Spain. In 1630 Antonio Mazenta talks of the dispersal of the manuscripts at the hands of Pompeo Leoni, the court sculptor of Spain. Could Ramelli—the engineer of the French king—have viewed a copy of Leonardo’s works at some point? It seems possible.

The revolving bookcase tells some of the story of the day’s technical manuscripts. As noted, Ramelli’s epicyclic gearing appears similar to those in Leonardo’s manuscripts. However, epicyclic gearing was not unknown to the engineers of antiquity and Ramelli’s contemporary horologists (as described by the other body of work of that LIS hero Derek J. de Solla Price). Similarly, revolving bookcases in general were not unknown at the time. As noted by Hall (1970), the Chinese used horizontally revolving bookcases from about the 6th century to store Tripitaka, or Buddhist scripture. They are also evident in early Renaissance paintings of St. Jerome in his study. Of note in Ramelli’s work is the detail he gives to the epicyclic gearing, an unnecessary feature for realizing the goal of the device. Grollier de Serviere, for example, designed a revolving bookcase that functioned by gravity. Ramelli’s depiction had a different goal:

“In defense of Ramelli, we might note that gearing arrangements are his forte; he tends to use gears to perform even such tasks as converting rotary to reciprocal motion, where a simple crankshaft would serve better. This habit in Ramelli is consistent with the tendency of authors of ‘Theatres of Machines’ to show off a certain virtuosity in their works, just as we today would expect an artist to demonstrate a particular ‘style’ in his paintings.” (Hall, 1970 pg. 392)

Despite all the ink spilt on such a peaceful creation as a bookshelf, Ramelli’s work is notable for its military flavour: “Skirmishes and surprise attacks echo through his work: No other contemporary book of machines devotes so much ingenuity to military devices.” (Keller, 1978 pg. 502) The martial nature of his work perhaps explained its continued popularity. Ramelli’s work ended up traveling outside of Europe when Jesuit missionaries carried it to China at the end of the 16th and at the beginning of the 17th century (Hall, 1970). The work of Ramelli, and a number of other authors, ended up in three Chinese works: Thai Hsi Shui Fa [Hydraulic machinery of the West] by Sabatino de Ursis and Hsü Kuang-Chhi (1612), the Chhi Chhi Thu Shuo [Diagrams and explanations of wonderful machines] by Johan Schreck and Wang Chêng (1627), the Chu Chhi Thu Shuo [Diagrams and explanations of a number of machines] by Wang Chêng (1627), and eventually the enormous compendium Ku-chin T’s-shu Chi-ch’êng [Synthesis of books and illustrations of ancient and modern times] from 1726. The work of earlier engineers such as Francesco di Giorgio is clearly evident in some of these manuscripts (Reti, 1963). Unfortunately, the actual mechanical representation of Ramelli’s inventions is often bungled in their Chinese reproductions. Hall notes that the Chinese draftsman, “regardless of his native abilities had not models within his own culture on which to base a knowledge of Ramelli’s gearing; thus he misinterpreted the drawing.” (Hall, 1970 pg. 386)

Timeline of Agostino Ramelli

  • 1531. Ramelli is born in the town of Lake Lugano, on the border between Switzerland and the Duchy of Milan. He quickly adopts the military life (Keller, 1965).

  • 1571. Amboise Bachot enters the service of Ramelli likely as the engraver of Ramelli’s drawings (Gnudi, 1974).

  • 1572. The year that Besson pulls stakes for England, Ramelli—apparently the apprentice of the Marquis of Marignano—appears in the sage of La Rochelle in the service of Henri, Duke of Anjou, and future king of France (Hall, 1970; Keller, 1965)

  • 1572, April 7. The king’s forces attack the bastion of l’Evangile using a wooden bridge that may have been a Ramelli design (Keller, 1978)

  • 1572, November 8. He is captured with a party of surveyors measuring the harbour and is held for a short time, perhaps four months (Gnudi, 1974).

  • 1573, March. The count de Nevers’s journal notes that Ramelli has breached the counterscarp of the bastion of l’Evangile.

  • At some point between 1572 and 1588 Ramelli publishes a manuscript about his own patent mathematical instrument (Keller, 1965).

  • 1585. In a list of the artillery engineers of the king, Ramelli’s name does not appear perhaps due to a systematic prejudice against the Italian engineers by French nobility (Keller, 1978).

  • 1587. Bachot publishes Le Timon, containing several plates reminiscent of Ramelli’s work. Le Timon also extensively lauds Ramelli.

  • 1588. Ramelli publishes his masterpiece, Diverse et Artificiose machine in which he calls himself “engineer of the most Christian King of France.” (Keller, 1965) The preface contains a prolonged accusation of plagiarism directed towards an unnamed person. Gnudi (1974) maintains that this person may have been Ambroise Bachot.

  • 1588, July. The Duke of Épernon was attacked by a group of extremists in the castle of Angoulême. Ramelli, as a member of the escort of a duchess, escaped to the city wall. It is unclear, however, whether the Ramelli in question is Agostino or his son. As noted by Keller (1978, pg. 501): “It does cast new light on Ramelli’s machines if we think that when he finished his book his son was on active service and in peril of his life hundreds of miles away, but certainly that is more likely than to suppose he was down in the southwest himself that summer.”

  • 1588, post Day of the Barricades. He joins the extreme Catholic party after Henri’s assassination. (Keller, 1965)

  • 1595. In another list of artillery engineers, Ramelli’s name again fails to appear (Keller, 1978)

  • 1595. A Captain Ramelle, perhaps another son of Agostino, is accidentally killed along with the Duke of Longueville during an honour salute in Doullens (Keller, 1978).

  • 1595, September. Paul de Ramel, king’s engineer and son of “Augustin” marries Claudine Prévost (Keller, 1978).

  • 1596. Ambroise Bachot, an architect and engineer to Henri IV, is director of fortifications of Melun.

  • 1598. Bachot publishes Le Gouvernail, a treatise bearing considerable similarities to Ramelli’s work. It appears that Bachot was Ramelli’s engraver but his own work demonstrates an ignorance of mechanical principles. Bachot holds the title of “captain engineer to the king” (Gnudi, 1974).

  • 1603. Claudine Prévost signs over property to Marie, “daughter of the late Nicolas de Ramel.” Nicolas was perhaps the brother of Paul who died at Doullens (Keller, 1978).

  • 1603. Levinus Hulsius, dealer of mathematical works, offers Ramellis for sale.

  • 1604. Ramelli, seemingly having made peace with the new king Henri IV, appears as “grand architect of the king.” (Keller, 1965)

  • 1620. Henning Gross offers a German translation with “appalling plates” (Keller, 1978) in Leipzig.

  • 1648. John Wilkins’s Mathemtaical Magick cites Ramelli.

  • 1703. The Bibliotheca Hookeana indicates that Robert Hooke owned Besson and Branca, but not a Ramelli. Apparently Galileo made no reference to Ramelli (Keller, 1978).

The importance of Ramelli’s work cannot be underestimated. Reti perhaps best describes his contribution:

“His drawings are a distinct advance over the fanciful sketches in earlier publications purporting to describe machines. Ramelli’s designs are practicable and show sufficient detail to satisfy most questions of construction and mechanism.” (Reti, 1972 p. 592)

Unfortunately, the significance of Ramelli’s work has often been diminished or underplayed. Hall notes:

Le diverse et artificiose machine has suffered, along with other ‘Theatres of Machines,’ from being considered an unimportant or even playful aspect in the history of technology. Though the type of machines often found in the ‘Theatres’ tends to lead one to that conclusion at first glance, it is nevertheless false to assume that these works are worthless for the understanding of our technological past. Instead, they are important and demanding sources for the study of early technology.” (Hall, 1970 pg. 400)

Keller extends Hall’s ideas and reiterates the importance of these works.

“If we maintain that books like these opened a new era in history, we ought to look for evidence of both their impact on the consciousness of the times that followed…” (Keller, 1978 pg. 507)

As a final note, I must excuse myself. This biography was written without reference to some of the more important works on Ramelli, notably: Ferguson and Gnudi’s edition of The Various and Ingenious machines of Agostino Ramelli (1976), Gille’s Engineers of the Renaissance (1966) and Parsons Engineers and Engineering in the Renaissance (1939).


It has been a while since I last revisited this biography. It is still substantially complete although I have extended my own knowledge of Ramelli. For example, I now own Gnudi's proof copy of the Ramelli reprint (it's a small thing for my very small budget).

Of interest, however, is the emergene of a highly annotated copy of Ramelli's work. Keller (1978) refers to it as the Honeyman Ramelli:

"One early annotated copy, the Honeyman Ramelli, was discovered by Gnudi. Since Furguson and Gnudi give such extensive details on the proof copy and extraneous drawings, it is a pity that we are only given a few tantalizing references to this annotated copy, little more than a footnote, for this material would surely have illuminated Ferguson's chapter notes. Perhaps that is a treat to come." (pg. 508)

This copy now resides at Yale University. The librarian was kind enough to give me some details:

"I had a good look at the Ramelli yesterday afternoon. There are notes on the front endpaper and fly, notes and underscoring in the text, and quite a few pages bound in at the end. Some pages have been excised. The writing often goes to the margins, which are often somewhat frayed. The notes in the text are faded brown and often blurry, while the added notes are dark and more legible. These pages are bound pretty tightly, but I imagine that quite a bit could be read in microfilm, ...but not in xerox which would harm the volume. The notes are in Engllish. In short, I really think that the reader needs to examine the book to fully understand it. Thanks for responding to him."


Basalla, G. (1988). The evolution of technology. Cambridge [England] ; New York: Cambridge University Press.

Gnudi, M. T. (1974). Agostino Ramelli and Ambroise Bachot. Technology and Culture, 15(4), 614-625.

Hall, B. S. (1970). A revolving bookcase by Agostino Ramelli. Technology and Culture, 11, 389-400.

Keller, A. (1965). A theatre of machines. New York,: Macmillan.

Keller, A. (1978). Renaissance theatres of machines. Technology and Culture, 19, 495-508.

Petroski, H. (1999). The book on the bookshelf (1st ed.). New York: Alfred A. Knopf : Distributed by Random House.

Reti, L. (1963). Franceso di Giorgio Martini's treatise on engineering and its plagiarists. Technology and Culture, 4(3), 287-298.

Reti, L. (1972). Leonardo and Ramelli. Technology and Culture, 13, 577-605.

UPDATE. December 31, 2006.

Langins discusses Ramelli in his work on Vauban. In particular, Langins notes Ramelli's odd understanding of mathematics as an early engineer:

  • Mathematics meant different things to different people since there was a split between practical and constructive mathematics. Even engineers were a bit unclear on their use of mechanics. Langins notes that “Ramelli's curious and somewhat incoherent preface to his great theatre of machines is a eulogy to the importance of mathematics and the mechanic arts. Ramelli blithely blurs the distinction between 'pure' mathematics and engineering. For him, Archimedes the mathematician is Archimedes the military engineer, with no sign whatever of Plutarch's implicit condemnation of the mechanic arts and their decided inferiority to mathematics. In his magnificently illustrated plates on various machines there is not a trace of what we would call mathematical or even quantitative considerations, yet they are presented as an example of this 'foremost art of mathematics.' Here mathematics seems nothing more than a rational approach to nature and problem solving.” pg. 36

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Dissertation: new thoughts

Every once and awhile I feel that I have to reorient myself within my dissertation direction. This is one of those times. I need to figure out where I am and where I’m going.

Q1: What is my dissertation topic?

I’m studying how technical handbooks came to be. The reaction I get to my topic is often: “why on earth would you want do study that? Who cares!?” At this point I have to suppress my anger and go through the whole justification. The first point that I bring up is that my study of handbooks has less to do with a static history of books than with the interaction of people and documentary forms. People often react and mention that books are books. I would say that this sort of response is quite uninformed. Recent movements in physical anthropology have pushed aggressively against this stance and have emphasized how important it is to understand how particular material forms get stabilized through the actions and behaviors of people. This notion seems to be lacking in LIS. Sure, we discuss the importance of social forces in constructing that much bandied term “information” but when it comes to documentary forms, we’re mum. Even in the tradition of the history of the book, we look at cycles of production in which books are situated like some sort of non-dynamic volleyball passed back and forth among various actors. My position is that we need to subject this volleyball to greater scrutiny; the actual cycle of the ball isn’t as of much interest as how the ball actually came to be.

Technical documentation is an interesting topic of study for a number of other reasons. One of the problems with studying books is our notion that books sit on shelves and act as repositories of knowledge. Through the use of bibliographic tools, this knowledge can be called back from the edge of oblivion and put into some sort of use. I’m thinking of a different understanding of documentary forms, one that mixes humans and non-humans together. For example, to write I basically need a computer. Sure, I can write in long hand if pushed but it’s a completely different experience. Similarly, there are any number of documentary forms that act as technologies that are deeply embedded in practice. Workplace studies researchers have focused on the air traffic control chart or the doctor’s chart but both of these documentary forms still have some bibliographic aspect i.e., a patient’s chart is stored and requires recall. Technical handbooks, on the other hand, are often an instrumental part of practice. There are a number of accounts describing how a work such as Architectural Graphic Standards actually gets worn out with use. So that’s the first idol that I’m attacking: the notion that document use is part of a bibliographic cycle.

The second idol I’m attacking is the notion of truth. In discussing technical handbooks people immediately turn to that body of research known as science studies and to researchers such as Latour and Knorr-Cetina. Much of their work is about the creation of “truth” and the importance of the documentary forms for establishing and maintaining claims. Frohmann has recently used this body of literature to “deflate” the LIS concept of information. As part of his argument he notes that much journal literature goes completely unnoticed and unread. This idea of the unread journal article stands in stark contrast to the account of the technical manual that is falling apart from over-use. Furthermore, it could be argued that technical hand books actually make no claims at truth at all. Either they information they contain is so black-boxed and such a part of practice that there is no discussion regarding whether it is truthful or not; it just is. Other representations clearly are not truth in that they obviously don’t exist. An idealized representation of the forces in a beam or of the components of a foundation quite clearly doesn’t represent a real thing. Rather, it represents a potential thing. And the interpretive community is okay with this. Indeed, they seem to expect this. So this notion of documents that get worn out with daily use, live on the desk top and not on the shelf, and that don’t make claims of truth seems to be a new entity for LIS studies.

Technical handbooks have one more interesting feature. They are largely visual in that they make use of highly visual forms such as technical drawings and illustrations and abstract forms such as nomographs, tables, and graphs. Interpreting these forms requires knowledge of the particular genre. The genre is not, however, literary. Rather, it is visual. My focusing on documents created using a primarily visual genre I can avoid much of the heated rhetoric surrounding “literacy” and our ongoing Victorian hangover with the pre-eminence of the word.

Q2: How are you going to do it?

So my research question is: “How did these things come to be?” This is a question of stabilization of a particular material form. I intent to use the theoretical approach of SCOT. I’ll go into greater detail about SCOT at a later date. My basic approach will be to study two very different epochs of technical handbooks bookended by major advances in literary technology namely the introduction of the printing press and the advent of the Internet. I will explore the technical handbooks of the 16th century and one of the most popular handbooks of our own day: Architectural Graphic Standards. Splitting my research across these two era evokes Latour’s metaphor of the Janus face of science: the messy and contingent image of science currently in the making, and the refined and sterile image of science that has been made as demonstrated by the journal literature. SCOT involves attention to the various interpretive communities that interact with a particular material artifact and act to stabilize the artifact’s form. There’s one problem with discussions of community and that’s the problem of classification. As so thoroughly demonstrated by Bowker and Star, carving up the world into communities is a pretty difficult task. SCOT is susceptible to this criticism in two ways. As demonstrated by [some guy who wrote about mountain bikes], it is exceedingly difficult to apply SCOT to technologies that are too recent to have developed a stable discourse. While the material form itself may be relatively stable, the discourse communities that SCOT employs are difficult—if not impossible—to determine. Similarly, determining the discourse communities of a past era is equally difficult. As demonstrated by Darnton’s Great Cat Massacre, it is difficult for us to determine the structure and communities of historical book production from our vantage in the twenty-first century. My intention is to establish robustness in my finding my comparing and contrasting these two eras in order to pull threads of commonality. My hope is that hypotheses established from the study of one period can be tested against the findings from the other period.

SCOT doesn’t completely address the question of how. It only touches on the meta-how. Traditionally, SCOT had been used along with narrative history to establish insights. While I certainly support the use of history my intention is also to turn to the actual documentary forms—or at least high quality reproductions with all of their limitations—to explore the changes. As demonstrated by physical anthropology, material forms emerge for a reason. Admittedly, some changes are due to random or blind variation but those forms that stabilize do so because they work. In addition to general historical work, I will look at the commonalities and differences in the documentary forms to see what works in hopes of explicating the reason. By splitting my interest across two periods I have access to a fairly long period of evolution. To actually study the documents I will use a method that Rose has called “Discourse Analysis I”.

Q3: Is that it?

Yeah. That’s it. I’m amazed that the months of anguish that I’ve squeezed into this topic has left me with such a short statement. Go figure.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

“She pushed my buttons!”

What an insidious excuse: “She pushed my buttons.” Last week I ended up in a rather heated discussion about what exactly this expression means. To me, it means nothing. To others it is a perfectly acceptable explanation, like saying: “the leaves dropped in autumn.” Despite my best rhetorical efforts, the cognitive authority of the expression remains impeccable. This authority didn’t just appear, it must have come from somewhere. So my question for the day is how did this expression appear?

H1: The expression has always existed (or at least since the industrial revolution, or alternately the cybernetic revolution, gave us buttons for controlling automata).

False. A quick search of the collections of Project Gutenberg indicate that neither the expression “pushed my buttons” nor the expression "punched my buttons" appear in the full text of any of the 15,000 works in their collection. The collection consists primarily of works in the public domain as per US Copyright law (i.e., published before 1923, published by the government, some works published before 1964 whose copyright was not renewed, and some works published before 1989 without copyright notice).

H2: The expression has come into common usage since 1923.

False. A search of the full archives of JSTOR indicates no usage of the term. Searches through Proquest’s historical New York Times and historical Wall Street Journal indicate that the term came into usage only relatively recently. The New York Times first used the expression in 1982 in a first person account written from the perspective of “the A bomb” (Baker, 1982). The meaning seems to have shifted since then.

H3: The expression only exists in the popular parlance (i.e., outside of the academic world of JSTOR or the white collar environment of the New York Times and Wall Street Journal).

False. Searching through a popular lyrics search engine ( indicates that the expression has been used a number of times. For example, the expression appeared on Guru’s Jazzmatazz--Streetsoul in October of 2000. Pop diva Pink stated “Momma was a lunatic, she like to push my buttons” in the track My Vietnam which appeared on her 2001 album Missundaztood. Hall and Oates, the masters of saccharine rock, first used the expression on their 1990 album Change of Season in the song I Ain’t Gonna Take it This Time. It’s unclear from their syntax, however, whether they used the expression in a positive or negative manner: You push my buttons hard /And don't even realize what you're doing is killing my soul [ed. I certainly hope that this expression, commonly used by some of scariest dudes that I know, did not originate in a Hall and Oates song!]. Another early use of "push my buttons" was in the hit TV program Friends. In 1994, the character "Phoebe" in talking about "Ross" stated: "I'm trying not to be mad at him, but man that guy can push my buttons!"

With my hypotheses blown, I can at least take a look at other ways in which the expression was used. According to the OED, the expression in a general sense has a fairly long history and provides a number of examples in typical OED manner. The expression seems to be related to an action-response scenario rather than one of blame or accusation:

1914 E. GREY in Europ. Crisis, Corr. (Parlt. Papers CI) 46 Mediation was ready to come into operation..if only Germany would ‘press the button’ in the interests of peace. E. GOSCHEN Ibid. 59 The Chancellor told me last night that he was ‘pressing the button’ as hard as he could.

Modern usages of the expression crop up only within the last 10 years. For example, a 1994 interview in Down Beat magazine has the Jazz composer and musician Anthony Braxton describing the excitement he felt for jazz as a young man as “pushing my buttons.” (Corbett, 1994) Alternately, in 1993 we have the UC softball pitcher Michele Granger describing how her coach could really drive her by saying that he knew how to “push her buttons.” (Anon, 1993)

Perhaps the first documented use of the expression in the way that we understand it comes from a 1994 article in—of all sources—Ms.:

“If we've had a hard day at work, were embarrassed or humiliated by a boss--challenged in the box--the contract leads us to believe that we can take those feelings out on "our" women, and thus regain our power. If we end up hitting her, then we have to blame her in order to deny our aggression and keep our self-esteem intact. So we say things like: She asked for it. She pushed my buttons. She deserved it. Invariably it comes as a surprise to us that women don't meekly accept our violence. So we respond by minimizing and justifying our actions: I didn't mean it.” (Allen, Kivel, and Obejas, 1994)

The expression apparently hasn’t been limited to perpetrators of violence. The expression quite quickly seems to have bled over into usage by therapists. A first-person account in 1995 from a therapist referred to his/her client’s attempts to manipulate the therapeutic process as: “pushing my buttons.” (Polson and McCullom, 1995)

Since 1995 the expression has become quite popular. Everybody seems to know how to push everybody else’s buttons. Recent articles demonstrate that children know how to push parent’s buttons, and employees are quite adept at punching the buttons of their bosses. Even fellow commuters are quite good at punching buttons when they’re behind the wheel. My position is that this expression needs to be deflated. Its Hall and Oates heritage may be the place to start.


Allen, R.L., Kivel, P., and Obejas, A. (1994, September). Men Changing Men. Ms. 5(2): 50-56.

Anon. (1993, April 12). Sports people: Michele Granger. Sports Illustrated. 78(14): 71.

Baker, Russell (1982, April 10). The mushroom blues. New York Times. 23.

Corbett, J. (1994, April). Of science and Sinatra [profile of Anthony Braxton]. Down Beat. 61(4): 28-32.

Polson, M., and McCullom, R. (1995). Therapist caring for the treatment of sexual abuse offenders: Perspectives from a qualitative case study of one sexual abuse treatment program. Journal of Child Sexual Abuse. 4(1): 21-44.