I’ll confess as a kid I loved espionage: clandestine conversations, dark alley meetings, secret passageways. If it involved a high-level adventure… with a low-level of forgery… with maybe a secret handshake, I was in; and truth be told I still might be. Growing up pre-mobile phones and computers, note passing
Books printed with disappearing ink was trialed by an independent publisher in Argentina. The idea: new authors shouldn’t wait for their book to be read, they need to be discovered quickly so they could get their next book out. Books printed with this special ink were wrapped in an airtight
“James Franklin, printer, in Queen’s Street, wants a likely lad for an apprentice.” The life of a printer’s apprentice or “devil” was no picnic. It usually involved long hours of arduous labor for little or no pay with only small hope of advancement. Apprenticeship – until at least the middle
As Scotland heads to the polls this week to vote on independence from the United Kingdom, an antiquarian bookseller has drawn attention to the 18th century debate regarding the union of Scotland and England: expressed here in a book of poetry in support of the union. Equally of interest is
This book bound in human skin…isn’t human skin after all. Our fascination with the macabre practice of anthropodermic bibliopegy, or human skin bookbinding, isn’t a new one. This inscription led readers astray for many years before scientific testing of the leather proved the note to be false.
My first book love was the odd world of medieval manuscript art: an age defined by distinctive books that are inherently unique in form if not content. These handwritten and handmade books form the core of my knowledge of books and the advent of the age of printing alone is