I am horrified by how impressed people seem to be when I say, “I make books.” While it is technically true that I do “make books” what people hear is, “published author”. Again, technically correct, but the reality is far less impressive than the words make it sound.
A few years ago I thought it would be quaint to give my adult children books for Christmas. I made up a little story for each of them loosely based on a childhood event, and constructed a simplistic story around it. My son’s centered on the time he “helped” me trim trees by annihilating a little lemon tree. In the story I had him dig it up rather than what he actually did, which was chop it to pieces. I illustrated it with little linoleum cuts, and since I did not have any letterpress supplies, I hand wrote the story and bound it up in a book. It took him a couple of months to actually read it and then he wasn’t sure if it was true.
My daughter’s story was about a honey pot she had given me and her search for the sweet stuff to fill it. Hers too was illustrated with lino cuts, and my first reduction print. She read hers right away and knew that most of it was a fabrication. There is just one copy of each book—probably a good thing considering their quality. The biggest effect of making them was that I was launched on my letterpress journey.
The following year I made accordion books for the offspring. They had drawings specific for each kid, and once again, just one of each. I thought they would be much nicer and neater if I had printed some words on them with something other than a pen. By January I was in the thick of purchasing type and all the associated bits and pieces.
I started with a Hamilton type cabinet, full of type. I had my choice of drawers but sadly I did not know anything about type or drawer layouts and I ended up with about 10 drawers of Gothic faces and a couple of drawers that had letters missing. By the following Fall, I had figured out how to use it in a little C&P Pilot, and was well on my way to producing that year’s gift. This time I was actually making an edition of 5.
That first letterpress book I made is the worst thing I have ever produced. Charm ranking: 8/10. Quality ranking: 3/10. I didn’t pay attention to margins, spacing, alignment, proportion. I used single pages and bound the whole thing through the tape to which I affixed those pages. The illustrations are reduction woodcuts—some really lovely and some, umm, not. But the story is sentimental and meaningful; it’s called ‘At Gran and Grumps’ House’ and features activities my children enjoyed at my parents’ house in France during their childhoods. I like to think the book has some of the magic they felt there. Of those 5 copies, 4 have a home.
During the first year of the pandemic, like many people, I worked from home. I made a book during those months that took at least 6 months. It’s picture after picture of the virus for which I used reduction woodcut, silkscreen, and engraving. I wrote one page for each week I was at home, setting the pages in 14pt Veronese, Pastonchi, Goudy Modern, Centaur. My daily journal served as the source material for those pages and I printed about one a week on the Poco. I started on my Pilot but I could not get a satisfactory print. By the end of the book the pages are evenly hand-inked and centered. There is also a typo on every dang page.
The current project is a book of essays about my childhood. It took probably 4 months to write and will occupy another 4 to print the 39 text pages plus various other bits. As I set the type, I find myself rewriting, and I am seldom satisfied. The stories are too brief, there are too many things I have not said, I am uncertain if I have included the right memories, and I doubt anyone will want to read the tripe anyhow. It is, at best, a vanity project—masquerading as “stories of my life my children will want to know.” The hope is that it will be done by the holidays but I do not know that I am going to like it. I have tried to keep the visual quality high by using a template for the type and I have committed the cardinal sin of adjusting the platen on the press for even pressure. Also, while I have just 4 pages left to print, I have 5 pictures to do, all reduction engravings—and they take awhile. The edition is 10, but I don’t think there are 10 people who will actually want a copy. Like a lot of what I make, it too is probably destined to collect dust.
In a couple of weeks I will be starting another book. This is a picture book. I have some really wonderful wood type that I want to feature and I have written a story around it. I am full of doubt about this one as well, and to make it worse, I am using someone else’s press to print it. I plan to illustrate it with silkscreen prints, a technique I am pretty weak on. This is one way to bolster my skills.
I make books because they are a compilation of skills and provide a canvas with a lot of versatility. I enjoy the constant choices and decisions required from choosing paper to selecting the type. I am not interested in simply binding books with nothing in them; I want a completed object. I have found that I enjoy finding binding techniques that do not use glue after being taught methods that seem to involve slathering glue on every surface and then layering some more stuff on and gluing again.
There are a few things I do not like in the bookbinding department. One is coptic bindings. They do not support the spine enough even while they can look really nice. The book wiggles and slides—something that can be cured with enough glue of course. I also vehemently dislike making endbands. They are fussy, exacting, and difficult. Doubtless I could improve my skill with practice but it’s a tough sell to do them at all. I think I am going to have to get over that. I also hate drawing, but that’s another story.
