Meet the bookmakers

The history of printed books is dotted with periods when the demise of the printed book is predicted by the general public. But this history is a story of resilience and continuity. Most such book histories have, however, focused on the lives of authors. This particular book, Adam Smyth’s “The Book-Makers: A History of the Book in Eighteen Remarkable Lives” (Basic Books, New York, 2024) is unique because it contains 18 biographies of individuals who are not authors but whose lives have contributed vastly to the flourishing of printed books. These unique personalities are printers, binders, paper makers, typefounders and library founders whose work shaped books as concrete objects.

Through this approach covering over 550 years, there are no technological timelines, but rather acknowledges the labor of these persons whose craft through “sweat, mess, ambition and accident” has demystified the making of books. This is far from a “Gutenberg-to-Kindle” history.

It is a celebration of objects, of craftspeople and of the “odd, obsessive, ingenious souls” who turned printed sheets into culture-shaping artifacts. It asks the readers “to slow down, touch the page and think about the hands behind it.” The biographical structure becomes both a blessing and a constraint, because of the “uneven” lives presented, so to speak. Some lives offer rich narrative possibilities while others pale in comparison.

The book spans from the late 15th century all the way to the present, beginning with Wynkyn de Worde, the pioneering printer in early London, and culminating in modern DIY zine makers in New York. The choice of figures represented may be considered eclectic and uneven in the level of interest they present. It cannot be helped that some lives, some anecdotes are more interesting than others.

Readers get to know interesting trivia about bookmaking, such as that early books were not always sold as bound volumes, with customers buying printed sheets and getting them bound separately. There are also “the cut-and-paste Bible harmonies made by Mary and Anna Collett in the 17th century, the Victorian craze for extra-illustration (where readers expanded their books into dozens of volumes) and the modern revival of artist’s books, small presses and zines.”

He is equally detailed in his portraits of typographers and printers, many of whom I had never known about before. A John Baskerville, for example, is represented as more than just a namesake font – his life, and that of his wife Sarah Eaves (who co-managed the business), becomes a way to explore type, design and craftsmanship.

Another important figure is Charles Edward Mudie, whose circulating library in the 19th century arguably democratized book access. Smyth shows how Mudie’s library challenged existing notions of reading, distribution and taste – he made books affordable and mobile, influencing what people read and how books traveled. Think of how that has influenced our book access today.

The author presents also more idiosyncratic and radical creators: Thomas Cobden-Sanderson, whose obsession with craftsmanship led him to throw his own type into the Thames to prevent it being misused. That was such an almost tragic portrait.

Cobden-Sanderson had written in his diary: “To the Bed of the River Thames, the river on whose banks I have printed all my printed books, I bequeath the Doves Press Fount of Type – the punches, the matrices and the type in use at the time of my death, and may the river in its tides and flow pass over them to and from the great sea for ever and for ever, or until its tides and flow for ever cease; then may they share the fate of all the world, and pass from change to change for ever upon the Tides of Time, untouched of other use and all else.”

Smyth’s biographical approach is considered the book’s major strength, for the author is able to make the figures represented “alive, intimate and human.” The book is cited for the sensory experience presented: “The printer’s shop smells; the binders” workshops are cramped; deadlines loom; type wears out; mistakes happen.” Thus, giving the readers “a vivid sense of the labor, mess and craft behind every page.”

The scope of five centuries is expansive, yet tightly linked to Western print culture, especially that of Britain and North America. So if one was expecting or hoping for a global history which would touch on Asian, Middle Eastern, African or Latin American print traditions, one would be disappointed.

Despite what may seem the limitations of the book, Smyth achieves something valuable: he is able to make the book alive and fresh again, an object made by real people under real conditions. For anyone interested in how books came to be and why they still matter as physical objects, Smyth’s work is a delight, a provocation and a reminder of the centuries of craft embedded in every printed page.

This would make wonderful reading for all booklovers and readers interested in how books are made; historians and students interested in such a history; designers, typographers or anyone interested in the physicality of print and all others curious about the past and the future of the printed book.

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