A list this long is useless without an order. The method catalog gives you three ways in: down the taxonomy, across a matrix of families and fields, or along the decades a method was born in.
Two orders run at once. The taxonomy goes from 7 divisions down to the shelves inside them, and each shelf holds the methods that belong there.
The second order is the one researchers actually think in: the field you work in. The same method can sit on a statistics shelf and still be the one your discipline reaches for, so field runs across the taxonomy rather than underneath it.
The same corpus, seen three ways: the taxonomy that holds it, the grid that measures it, and the decades that produced it. The sections below walk each one in turn.



Before you type anything, the catalog shows you where the mass is. A matrix of families across fields turns the whole corpus into a grid of counts, and every cell is a door: click it and you get exactly the methods that cell counted.
That is a design rule, not a coincidence. The number you read and the list it opens come from the same function, so a cell cannot promise twelve methods and then hand you nine.
Methods have birthdays, and the spread of them says a great deal about a field. The catalog draws the decade each method was first published in, for whatever scope you are looking at right now.
Everything before 1900 sits in a single bucket, because the alternative was three hundred empty boxes. Methods whose year we do not know are counted and named as unknown, never dropped into a decade that merely looks plausible.
A list this long answers no question on its own. It becomes readable the moment you pick an axis, and the axes are what the catalog adds on top of the names.
A page is written to be read from top to bottom: identity first, then the idea, then the practice, then the evidence and the neighbours. These are the real sections, in the order they appear.
Some sections are open to everyone and the deeper ones are for members. Where a section is locked the page says so plainly, on the card, instead of looking empty. See what else the Library does
Every method record carries a version and date, and the catalog you browse is rebuilt from that index. The count in the header moves when the library moves, instead of sitting there as a figure someone typed in two years ago.
What we do not claim is a schedule. There is no promise of a weekly sweep, because that is an easy thing to print and a hard thing to keep. What the catalog does guarantee is that it never pretends: if the index is missing, a section stays undrawn rather than showing a zero.

Pages are assembled from open scholarly records and carry the sources they were built from, so any page can be followed back to what it stands on. The measure we hold them to is whether the page explains the method well enough for a person to use it.
No, and that is deliberate. A corpus this size becomes readable only once you pick an axis: a division, a shelf, a field or a decade. Pick one and the list appears, with the count you clicked matching the list you get.
It is counted separately and named as unknown. The decade strip tells you how many methods it could not place, rather than quietly assigning them to a decade that looks about right.
The identity and the sources are open to everyone. Deeper sections, such as the intuition, the mechanics and the pitfalls, are for members, and a locked section says clearly that it is locked.
Each page carries its related methods, its sources, and a way into chat, where you can ask about the method and get an answer grounded in the pages behind it.
Pick a division, follow it down to a shelf, and watch what the counts do when you click them.
Browse the catalog