Between the lines: ‘Items from the Lydia Davis Papers’
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A recent exhibition from Columbia’s Rare Book and Manuscript Library offers a glimpse into the writing process of Barnard alum Lydia Davis, featuring her handwritten drafts, meticulous edits, and experimental story titles.

Photo by Janelle Bai/The Barnard Bulletin
By Janelle Bai
April 14, 2026
Located on the sixth floor of Butler Library, Columbia’s Rare Book and Manuscript Library serves as Columbia’s principal repository for rare books, manuscripts, and archives, spanning materials from children’s literature to oral history. Drawn from one of their most recent acquisitions, the exhibition, “Notes I Have Now and Then Made: Items from the Lydia Davis Papers,” offers a glimpse into the meticulous writing and editing process of Lydia Davis (BC ’70), a short-story writer, essayist, and novelist. The exhibition was on view until April 10.
Born in Northampton, Massachusetts, Davis is an American writer widely recognized for her short fiction — some pieces only a page or a sentence long — and her precise, minimalist style. Her story collections, including “The Thirteenth Woman and Other Stories” (1976), “Break It Down” (1986), and “Can’t and Won’t” (2013), explore everyday life, mundane routines, and human emotion. Beyond being an accomplished writer, Davis is also recognized for her translations of French literature, most notably “Madame Bovary” by Gustave Flaubert and “Swann’s Way” by Marcel Proust.
The exhibition is assembled from Davis’ papers in the library’s permanent collection. This project — primarily curated by Melina Moe, Curator of Literature; Denise Cruz, Professor of English and Comparative Literature; and Matthew Gay (CC ’26) — started with extensively probing the towering stack of archival boxes, filled with handwritten notes, typed drafts, and translation notes. Rather than starting with a fixed theme, the curators gathered all interesting works that they found. From there, the exhibition developed around a central idea.
Gay describes, “The narrative trajectory was one of constant wrestling and editing within her work. There’s often this idea of novelists that you have this one extremely long writing that you labor over, but that’s not her process at all.”
Instead, Davis starts in her journal — a very intimate, conscious way of producing writing — then transitions into a typed, polished form. Yet, from there, she continues laboriously editing with her pencil. Gay notes, “In an age where all the changes are tracked digitally, it’s so precious to see someone going at it with a pencil, and she’s quite assertive in editing her own work.”
This process is echoed in the structure of the exhibition itself. Materials in the archive are arranged loosely from earlier to later works, allowing visitors to trace her development from a Barnard student to an established writer. This progression is visible not only in the content of her writing but also in its physical form: her early handwriting appears large, playful, and almost childlike, while later drafts become smaller, more compressed, and more economical on the page.
The archive reveals the painstaking, repetitive work behind the stories, with certain manuscripts surviving in 25 different versions. On display near the beginning of the exhibition is a paper titled “The Way to Perfection.” The printed draft is layered with handwritten edits in pencil. Words are struck through, reconsidered, and questioned in the margins. These precise revisions, as one might even see as obsessive, are what make her writing powerful: maximum impact with minimal words.
At the same time, the page also preserves traces of her everyday life. Two fortune cookie messages are pressed on the manuscript. One reads, “He who seeks will find,” while the other reads, “The mind is everything. What you think you become.” As drafts and snackings collide on the same page, such details reveal how Davis’ writing is intertwined and embedded within her ordinary life.
Gay recalls the unexpected discovery of the fortune cookie messages: “I remember pulling out the folder, opening it, and out fell the fortune cookie messages. In a way, there’s a kinship between the fortune cookie messages and her short stories: often existential, short, and unresolved endings.” Davis lifts words and phrases from everything — even the most mundane sources — encouraging viewers to hold onto these fleeting moments.
A central focus of this exhibition is “Can’t and Won’t,” a 2013 story collection of flash fictions, essays, and translations. A printed draft of the titular story “Can’t and Won’t” is shown at the exhibition, annotated with “(dream).” This categorization demonstrates her conceptualization of the entire volume, where the arrangement of each story weaves together into a broader imaginative landscape. Several checklists document her decision-making, with notes such as “move ‘Their Poor Dog’ closer to the end.” This offers a rare yet vivid glimpse into the rigorous, thorough planning that went into the production of the story collection.
This scrupulous attention to form and detail is echoed in her individual stories, too. The exhibition presents “An Awkward Situation” in both its handwritten draft and typed version, enabling visitors to follow Davis’ writing process from initial thoughts to refined prose. The handwritten draft displays her experimental approach to writing: words and phrases slashed and rephrased, and new sentences inserted in the margins. The typed version remains heavily annotated, demonstrating that revision continues well beyond the initial draft.
Gay notes, “What’s amazing about her work is that she can write a sentence, then rearrange or cut a few words, and completely change the meaning of the entire story. Because the material itself is so strong, it becomes fascinating how she arranges it — she’s incredibly detail-oriented.”
By shifting the attention away from finished, polished text, this exhibition presents Davis’ writing as perpetually evolving, shaped by extensive experimentation, editing, and revision. Gay remarks, “Even in her final pieces, the process doesn’t go away. You can still feel her wrestling with it.” For Barnard students, the exhibition offers a rare opportunity to visually witness Davis’ writing process as a rigorous editor, encouraging viewers to approach their own writing with the same attentiveness and care.


