Books are objects of wonder and mystery, a shockingly perfect piece of technology. You open a book and can find yourself in another place, another time, another life. While the internet, AI, and virtual reality may be making incredible strides, we have yet to discover a method of exploration and learning as simple and effective as a good old-fashioned book.
Yet, when it comes to the production and creation of books, we know remarkably little. Yes, paper comes from trees. Perhaps we can shout out something vague about the Gutenberg Bible or the Printing Press, but for the most part, they are something we take entirely for granted, happy to explore their contents with little attention to form.
Over the following weeks, we will be diving into the secret history of bookmaking, and examining how the act of building a book is as fascinating and elusive as the act of writing one. We will learn about the lost legacy of women bookmakers, hear from the blogger trying to document the dying world of libraries and bookstores, dive into an ancient manuscript in an unknown language, and marvel at the art of marbled paper.
There is something innately appealing about a book’s physical form. That is why we have created places where the choosing, exploring, and displaying of books is as important as the act of reading. Whether a leather-bound copy of the Odyssey to a Lonely Planet Guide to Mexico, books are a human creation, they satisfy our instinct to declare, “I am here!” “I exist!” “I have thoughts and feelings!”
Yet the act of writing does not alone make a book. The words need protection, they need a place to live and breathe. To create a book is to determine that something is worth saving. In this series, we will be exploring how that technology developed, how it was perfected, the various styles and trends within bookmaking, and what they can teach us about history, culture, and ourselves. So grab a cup of tea and get cozy, welcome to The Secret History of Bookmaking.
