Before the internet, there was the almanac: a comprehensive annual guide to themes of human life as disparate as the weather, the government, and medicine. It was part pragmatism and part prognostication, and it was meant in to lend readers the same feeling of omniscience that Google now does. In 1976, with feminism established as a social reality, a new kind of almanac was published, the Illustrated Woman’s Almanac: 12 How-To Handbooks in One. The 624-page book retailed for $6.95 and contained — in one place, for the first time — information, tips, and guides about every facet of female experience.

“These days all sorts of people have bold plans for women — plans for us to embark on brand new careers, rear better families, have more free time, enjoy more exciting sex lives, become financially independent and politically powerful,” write editors Kathryn Paulsen and Ryan A. Kuhn in the book’s introduction. “But no matter how these grand dreams inspire us,” they continued, women lacked the “solid, practical information” required to make them a reality, “the kind of information we need to actually ask for a raise, start a daycare center, establish a credit identity.”

The Almanac was an obvious echo of the famous Our Bodies, Ourselves, first published in 1970 as a pamphlet by the Boston Women’s Health Collective. That grassroots initiative began in part as a challenge to the medical establishment and became a book that offered women accessible information about all aspects of their health and wellbeing.

Similarly, the Woman’s Almanac sought to put the power of information in women’s hands. The volume included all manner of practical information a woman might need to lead a full life and, importantly, establish her independence. As the introduction states, “The Almanac tells you not only how to rewire a lamp, but how to start a business at home, how to cope with anxiety, how to make babyfood…how to run for office — and much, much more.” The last 80 pages are a yellow pages for women, with headings ranging from abortion and adoption to women’s studies departments.

While an impressive resource, the exhaustive book was certainly not meant to be read straight through. The print is small, and a dizzying amount of information is contained within. But the Woman’s Almanac strove for a joyful variety. As a reviewer in the Philadelphia Inquirer put it, “Just as you’re beginning to cry for mercy, the book ends mercifully with ‘simple pleasures,’ including belly dancing, massage, yoga, ice cream making, poker, and bee keeping.”