Bookbinding 101

Lesson 1

Anatomy of a book

Open any hardcover book and look at it the way a binder does. The pages are not loose leaves glued at one edge. They are folded sheets, gathered into bundles that Cockerell calls sections and that many binders today call signatures. The folded edge of each bundle forms part of the spine, the back of the book. The opposite edge, where the folds were cut or left to be opened, faces out at the fore edge. The top of the book is the head, the bottom is the tail, and a well made book keeps those names straight from the first fold to the final pressing.

Around the pages sits the structure that protects them. At the front and back are the end papers, the folded sheets that join the text to the covers. The covers themselves are boards, stiff card that Cockerell insists must be firmly attached, not merely glued on as an afterthought. Where a board meets the spine it forms a joint, the hinge the book opens on, and the small lip of board that extends past the pages at the head, tail, and fore edge is called the squares. Those squares are not decoration. They shield the page edges when the book stands on a shelf or drops on a table.

Small parts do quiet work. The headband, a little cord sewn at the head and tail of the spine, strengthens the very places your finger pulls when you take a book down from a shelf. Cockerell opens his book with the purpose of it all: binding exists "to keep them together in their proper order, and to protect them". He also draws a line every beginner should learn. In true binding, the slips from the sewing are firmly attached to the boards before covering. In mere casing, the common trade method, a finished case is glued onto a book made separately, which is faster and weaker. Everything in this course follows the stronger road. Keep that picture in mind whenever a later lesson names a part: nothing in a binding is there by accident, and each piece either holds the leaves in order, protects them, or helps the book open and shut without tearing itself apart.

Lesson 2

Tools, paper, and grain direction

The hand binder works with a short, friendly list of tools. You will want a bone folder for crisp folds and for pressing down pasted work, a sharp knife and a straight edge for cutting, an awl for pricking sewing holes, needles and linen thread, a ruler and a carpenter square for marking up, a hammer for backing, and some way to press a book flat: a lying press if you have one, or heavy boards and weights if you do not. Cockerell devotes his later chapters to materials with the same care, glue, paste, leather, and paper, because he believed poor materials undo good work faster than clumsy hands do.

Paper deserves special attention, because it has a direction. Machine made and hand made papers are built from fibres, and those fibres tend to line up one way, the way water ran or the sheet travelled. Binders call that direction the grain. Fold with the grain and the sheet folds cleanly. Bend a sheet gently both ways and one way will curve more easily and spring back less. Tear a corner both ways, on scrap, and one tear runs straighter. Paper also folds, turns, and lies flat most kindly when the grain runs up and down the page.

So the rule for every project in this course is simple: grain parallel to the spine, in the text paper, the end papers, and even the board and covering paper where you can manage it. Grain running across the spine makes pages that fight the reader, cockled end papers, and covers that warp as the paste dries. Modern binders state this rule in exactly these terms, and while Cockerell writes about paper quality, soaking, and flattening at length in his own Edwardian words, the grain test above is the quick modern way to put his care for paper into practice at your table.

Lesson 3

Folding and sewing signatures

Binding starts with folding. A large sheet, folded once, gives two leaves and four pages. Folded again, it gives a small bundle of eight pages, and so on. Each folded bundle is one section, or signature. Cockerell begins with books in sheets: folding, collating, and checking that every sheet is present, in order, and folded square, with the head knocked up exactly even. Work slowly here. A signature folded crooked cannot be rescued later by good sewing, and pages trimmed out of square will haunt the finished book every time it is opened.

Next comes marking up and sewing. For a book sewn on cords, the binder draws lines across the back of the gathered sections to show where the cords will sit. Cockerell notes that nearly all books look best with five bands, and he marks a kettle stitch, also called a catch stitch, about a quarter of an inch from the head and from the tail. The sewing frame he describes, two uprights, a crossbar, and cords held by keys, is, in his words, practically the same tool shown in prints of the early sixteenth century. Some crafts change slowly because the old design is already right.

The sewing itself follows a steady rhythm. The needle travels out and in along the fold of each section, passing around each cord, and at the kettle stitch it links to the section below, locking the growing book together section by section. Keep the thread snug but not savage: pulled too hard it cuts the fold, left too loose the spine will sag. When the last section is sewn and the kettle stitch tied off, run your thumb down the back. It should feel even, firm, and just slightly springy, ready for glue.

Lesson 4

A simple pamphlet binding

Before the full journal, make the smallest real binding there is: a pamphlet. Take one signature only, a single folded bundle of, say, five folded sheets, giving twenty pages, with a sheet of stiffer paper or thin card wrapped around it as a cover. Because there is only one signature, there is nothing to sew on cords. Instead, the pamphlet stitch passes through the fold itself, in one of the oldest and most useful patterns in all of bookbinding.

Open the signature to its middle and mark three holes along the fold: one in the centre, and one a short distance from the head and from the tail. Prick them with an awl, working from inside the fold on a scrap board. Thread a needle with strong thread, roughly twice the height of the book, and sew: in at the centre, out at the top hole, down the outside of the spine, in at the bottom hole, up the inside, and out again at the centre, on the opposite side of the long stitch from where you started. Tie the two ends together over that long stitch, trim them short, and press the pamphlet flat.

That is the whole craft in miniature. You have folded, collated, pricked, sewn, and covered a book, and it will genuinely last: pamphlets in libraries are kept this way for occasional reference, a use Cockerell himself plans for in the fourth of his specifications, for pamphlets and other small books that need to be kept together tidily. Make two or three. A recipe booklet, a travel notebook, a collection of poems for a friend. Each one teaches your hands the rhythm the journal in Lesson 8 will ask of them. Your second pamphlet will take half the time of your first, and your third will show you whether your folds, not your sewing, are what still need practice.

Lesson 5

Gluing, backing, and boards

A sewn book now needs its spine shaped and its boards attached. First, glue up the back: knock the sections square at head and spine, hold the book firm, and brush a thin coat of warm glue along the back so it sinks between the sections without flooding the pages. Cockerell follows glueing up with fraying out the slips, the cord ends from the sewing, teasing them into flat fans of fibre that will spread wide on the boards and weld book and cover together far more strongly than a trimmed stub ever could.

Then rounding and backing, the most sculptural step in binding. A flat backed book wants to sink in the middle over time, so the binder rounds the spine into a gentle arc by careful hammering, working from the centre outward while the glue is still responsive. Backing follows: the outermost sections are fanned slightly over the edge of backing boards, forming small shoulders, called joints, against which the boards will sit. Cockerell is precise here: in section, the rounded back should be a portion of a circle. Take that as your guide and stop often to look.

Now cut and attach the boards. Board is cut so the finished book will carry even squares at head, tail, and fore edge, and the edges of the board are squared and, for finer work, slightly bevelled. The frayed slips are pasted down onto the boards, the book goes into the press, and when it comes out the boards move with the book as one thing, opening on clean joints instead of flapping from a glued hinge. Stand back: you are holding the skeleton of a real book, ready to be covered.

Lesson 6

Covering in cloth and paper

Covering is where the book gets its clothes, and cloth is the kindest material for a first full binding. Book cloth is woven fabric backed with paper so glue does not strike through. Cut it to cover both boards and the spine with a generous turn in all around, lay the book on it, and mark the spine width carefully, because a covering cut even slightly narrow cannot be stretched into behaving. Cockerell covers in leather in his finest work and pares it thin at the edges; cloth asks less of a beginner and forgives more.

Paste or glue the cloth, set the boards down in position, turn the spine piece over the back, and then turn in the edges at head, tail, and fore edge. At the corners, mitre: fold and nip the cloth so the corner closes in a neat diagonal without a lump, a detail Cockerell treats as its own craft under the heading of mitring corners. Work the cloth down well over the joints with a bone folder, and take special care at the head and tail of the spine, pinching the covering in around the headbands so it sits snug and square.

Last, fill in and finish. The turn ins leave the inside of each board uneven, so a sheet of paper, the filling, is pasted down inside, and then the free leaf of the end paper is pasted down over it, hiding the construction and giving the clean opening page of a bound book. Paper coverings follow the same road: decorative paper over boards, or a strong paper spine with paper sides, is a honourable, traditional finish and a fine place to use a sheet you love. Press the book until thoroughly dry before you judge it. A paper covered book made this honestly will outlive many a grand looking case binding made carelessly, which is exactly the lesson Cockerell spent his career trying to teach the trade.

Lesson 7

Repairing a worn book

Cockerell ends his book with the care of books, and with rebacking, the repair that saves more beloved volumes than any other. Look at a worn book honestly before you touch it. Is the text block still firmly sewn, with the paper sound? Are the boards attached, or hanging by a thread of old leather? Is the spine covering cracked, torn away, or gone entirely? A book whose sewing is sound but whose covering has failed is a candidate for repair. A book whose paper crumbles at a touch belongs to a conservator, and saying so is part of the craft.

Rebacking, in outline, goes like this. Lift and preserve the original spine piece and boards if they have life in them. Clean the old glue and loose material off the back of the text block without tearing the sections. Sew or tip on new end papers if the old hinges have split. Glue up the back, add new strong material, cloth or leather, worked well into the joints, to form a new spine, reattach or secure the boards, and lay the saved original spine covering over the new work where possible, so the book keeps its face and its lettering.

The daily care around repairs matters as much. Cockerell warns against the injurious influences books live with: damp, great heat, dust, rough handling, and being yanked from the shelf by the headband, the very strain that tears weak spines. Pull a book out by pushing its neighbours back and gripping its sides. Keep shelves dry and out of fierce sun. And mend early: a loose board reattached this month is a small job, while the same book in five years may need its sections resewn entirely.

Lesson 8

Final project: a hand-bound journal

Now gather the whole course into one object: a journal you will actually write in. Choose your paper with the writing in mind, smooth enough for your pen, sturdy enough to sew, and test its grain before anything else, so the grain will run parallel to the spine. Decide the size by folding one sheet and living with the result for a day. A book that fits your bag and your hand gets used; a grand book that fits neither becomes furniture. Plan on eight to twelve signatures of four folded sheets each.

Work the full sequence without rushing any stage. Fold and press the signatures overnight. Collate them, mark up the back for sewing on tapes or cords, and sew on the frame, keeping your kettle stitches neat at head and tail. Glue up the back, round and back it gently, cut your boards with even squares, and attach them with the frayed slips pasted well down. Cover in the cloth you chose, mitre the corners, fill in the boards, and paste down end papers you picked for the pleasure of opening the book and seeing them.

Press the journal until it is thoroughly dry, then open it properly: Cockerell closes his method with advice on opening a new book gently, a few leaves at a time from both ends toward the middle, so the sewing settles instead of cracking. Write your name and the date on the first page. You will write in a journal you made yourself, and you will never throw out a broken book again, because now your hands know what a book is: folded paper, thread, glue, and boards, and the patience to put them in the right order.

Sources

The Books Behind This Course

This course is taught from a classic text that is free for anyone to read. Every method in the lessons traces back to this book.

• Bookbinding, and the Care of Books, Douglas Cockerell (1901), Project Gutenberg

Graduation

Your journal is waiting on your own bench

You started with the anatomy of a book and a handful of simple tools, and you finished with a sewn, backed, boarded, cloth covered journal of your own, plus the judgment to rescue a worn book instead of binning it. Keep your folds square, your grain parallel to the spine, and your kettle stitches honest. Congratulations, and welcome to one of the oldest and most patient crafts in the world.

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