no bar code bookbindery

When I first started bookbinding, I’d been studying the book for a long time.

I grew up in a house that held thousands of books. I was first read to, then I first read by pretending to read. I have been a bookseller and graduate student in literature. I have studied how books are written, edited, published, constructed, conceived, designed, marketed, and sold. My experiences in graphic design, typography, and the creation and study of content (as well as other various narrow-audience Post-Modern theories) form my ideas of what a book ought to be, and what a bound book ought to be. There is a difference…

Recently, I was given a ten-year old magazine with a quote from my old bookbinding professor. I studied with her post-dropping out of a PhD programme, while working as a graphic designer. I then continued studying and working with her and her associates at her bookbindery, up to the point where I assisted with instruction and administration.

The quote is in French, and translates as “To me, an unbound book is merely a pile of paper”. I disagree with this statement so utterly that, had I known she thought that (much less let that idea be published!), I would never have studied with her! Oh, I would still have studied bookbinding; there is no doubt. But not with someone who has so little regard for the book as a landscape for ideas, all mutable by the reader. Of course, after working for and with her so long, I understand the scope of this statement in a different context. But the point is, she has little respect or reverence for the content. Content is everything. Without the content, the book would simply not exist.

A book, no matter if it is finely bound or a “mere” pile of paper, is a book. A book can be one single sheet folded in half, if it has content. A blank piece of paper has potential, but it is simply not yet a book. Only a pile of blank pieces of paper is a “mere” pile of paper, though as you can see from my quotes, I disagree, too, with the word “mere”, as the potential in that paper, of necessity, erases the word.

The title of this post comes from a video on Neil Gaiman’s journal, where Gaiman is interviewed about the Necronomicon. He talks about how a book is an idea space, and his comments on this matter partially inspired this post, and gave it a great title (thank you!).

Every element of a book has potential… the potential to be appropriately designed, covered, and bound is influenced by its content. The potential for it to be enjoyed or not – content. Its staying-power in the library or bookstore – content again. A book can be designed and re-designed a thousand times, and it will still not appeal to ALL readers – and it doesn’t matter in the least. What is important is that the content is respected.

A book that has been bound to the point where it becomes merely an object renders the book only nominally a book – as its capacity to influence inspiration and ideas has become tethered, encased, enslaved by its binding. It may have the form of a book – but it may not be available any longer as content, especially if you can no longer handle the book to open it. It has become untouchable, and so the content has been disrespected.

Of course there is nothing wrong, per se, with the book-as-object, especially if the content of what drives the book-as-object is visual – that is, non-literary – instead of the printed word. It becomes art in the form of a book, but it may no longer be a book-as-idea space, if there is a text contained within than can no longer be read, or if the ability to read such a book has been in any way compromised.

A book is most certainly a pile of paper. It is also a falling-apart and much loved pile of formerly-bound paper. It is many other things, too: a soggy modern hardcover with an un-sewn plastic-glued concave spine, or a book with a sewn and rounded spine, bound in materials of varying degrees of fineness, up to and including really marvelous buttery silky delightful bookbinding leathers and stamped in gold.

Binding is what I’m about, so I cannot complain too much about “encasing” and “binding” and what those terms ultimately mean. Let me state categorically that these terms and the actions behind them have everything to do with a reverence for the book and its content, and nothing whatever to do with slavery.

The sewn and rounded spine is ideal; it fits in your hand better than some nasty plastic-glued job curling around your hand, impossible to hold. It opens completely, and regains its form when closed, and it feels good in your hand. But books should not be over-bound to the point where you can only look at it from afar, bound in extremely expensive or rigid materials or delicate to the point of being fragile and untouchable; such treatment renders a book a prisoner of the glass case, and is a death sentence for the ideas contained within.

These are some of the ideas that form the background of no bar code, the bookbinding and box-making workshop that is my life, my source of devotion and dedication, and my livelyhood.

Welcome!

Since this is my first post on my brand-new blog, there are fewer links and photos at the moment than there will be in the future. Soon, there will be photos of my work and a proper link to my site, with all that you need to know about finding my work and holding it in your hands, as you prepare for the moment when you settle yourself in your chair for delightful hours of soft leather caress to accompany the font of ideas held within.