On the heels of the launch of the typography-centric documentary Helvetica, Slate.com asked me to join a bunch of other authors and ruminate about my personal font choice. Well, it turns out that what I wrote for them was too similar to the essay it was supposed to run with, so they killed my submission. I blame this on what I now understand to be the clearly satanic font I was writing about. It is cursed. Who knew a font could be so evil?
For years, I've defaulted to Arial. It was an innocent decision. The alphabetically advantaged Arial is located near the top of the drop-down bar for font selection in Microsoft Word, and seems, as much as these things can seem, to be an unpretentious, easy-to-read typeface that, while more-or-less no nonsense, has a hint of play in its scroll. When I think about it (which I admittedly haven't done very often), there is something about the roundness of the letters that reminds me of the penmanship of my best friend from sixth grade; I think there might be some chocolate milk-like elixir for me when I write with it. Writing can sometimes be a painful process, so a touch of childlike regression can never hurt, right?
Well, imagine my surprise when, having been asked to ponder my font usage, I found via a quick Google search such venom! An article posted by a graphic designer named Mark Simonson refers to my once favored font as both an almost diabolical virus and a shameless masquerader -- a rip-off of the esteemed Helvetica, an evil spawn of Microsoft's techno-imperialism (apparently, Microsoft owns the licensing rights to Arial). There are websites dedicated to comparing and contrasting the original to the supposed imposter, and discussion boards fighting it out.
It would take some more digging on my part to find out exactly where the truth lies: Was the creation of Arial inspired by strange 80s-era copyright concerns, as some say, or all about money, as others do? Or, as still others argue, is the font of blameless genesis, just an attempt to make a venerable typeface like Helvetica more readable for the computer screen? Whatever the answer, I admit that my choice was clearly naive (fitting for the childhood associations I have with it), but likewise it is so compelling. My simple, seemingly straightforward typeface has a mysterious dark side. Which is interesting. That said, I am not sure I can write with Arial anymore without thinking about it, and the last thing a writer needs is to be distracted by her font choice.
Which is why I am considering switching to something a little less controversial. Perhaps something like American Typewriter, with its old-school appeal. But then again, I'd have to do some digging to find out more about where that font really came from. My sloppy, almost illegible longhand is looking pretty good to me right now.