It’s the beginning of 2016 and Bibliotheca, the Kickstarter project that took the world of Bible publishing by storm over the summer of 2014, raising nearly $1.5 million dollars to print a multi-volume, readable edition of the American Standard Version, still hasn’t delivered the goods. The culprit seems to be mission creep: all the design and printing choices have been made, and now we’re waiting on a revision of the ASV that wasn’t part of the original pitch. This has caused a lot of frustration — a lot of us backed the project in spite of its use of the ASV, not because of it — and a number of my friends have gone so far as to request refunds. Since I backed Bibliotheca on Day 1 and wrote about it extensively for Bible Design Blog (you can see my coverage here), I get polite e-mails on a regular basis asking whether I’ve given up on ever seeing the end result. And I get a few not-so-polite ones suggesting there is egg on my face for promoting Bibliotheca to my readers.
The fact is, I haven’t given up on Bibliotheca, and I want you to know why. First, I need to clarify a few things. I don’t have any insider information about the state of the project. All I know is what has been released to the public. Although I was in touch with Adam Greene during the fundraiser, I have not heard a thing from him since it ended. I’m in the same boat as the project’s other backers. If I’m not giving up, it isn’t because I know something you don’t. It’s because I’m putting a different interpretation on the knowledge we have in common. Fair enough?
So here are the six reasons I haven’t given up on Bibliotheca:
1. I haven’t given up on Bibliotheca because, where Kickstarter projects are concerned, late deliveries are the norm. Of the four projects I backed in 2014, none of them delivered by the deadline. The earliest arrival hit my doorstep six months late. None of them, when they finally showed up, was a disappointment. Now Bibliotheca is the last one I’m waiting on, and they’re currently talking as if the set will be in our hands by mid-year.
2. I haven’t given up on Bibliotheca because mission creep isn’t always the kiss of death. I hate mission creep. If Adam had asked me, I would have told him the most important thing following his unprecedented success was to deliver what was promised in the time it was promised. Use the leftover funds to pursue bigger projects in the future. Instead he started thinking about how to upgrade every aspect of Bibliotheca, and then made the decision to abandon the light update to the ASV originally pitched to backers in favor of a deeper revision. The thing is, mission creep of this nature, while it delays the end result, also improves it. And some of the best results in history can be attributed to mission creep (see the Emancipation Proclamation).
3. I haven’t given up on Bibliotheca because Adam Greene seems intensely committed, and that makes a difference. Some of the disillusionment with Bibliotheca stems from the belief that his huge success led Adam to take his eye off the ball. I’ve even seen some people online speculating that Bibliotheca would never ship and Adam would take the money and run. I don’t understand this, frankly. The reason for the delays strike me as the result of the fact that, for Adam, this is a life goal, an obsession. I’m sure there were people telling the Pope that the Sistine Chapel would never be finished and Michelangelo would disappear with the money and sun himself on the Lido. Meanwhile the maestro was wiping paint from his eyes and saying, “It’ll be finished when it’s finished.”
4. I haven’t given up on Bibliotheca because, obviously, I’m still in love with the concept. You’re talking to a guy whose life work centers on making the Bible readable. If the original pitch had included the caveat that Bibliotheca wouldn’t ship until this summer, I still would have backed it.
5. I haven’t given up on Bibliotheca because its influence has been positive. Call it self interest, but I’d been blogging about readable Bible design for seven years by the summer of 2014, and I’ve now had more conversations with people in publishing about making my own dream edition a reality than in all that time. Way more. And Crossway recently announced the release of their own multi-volume Reader’s Bible coming in October of this year, which means you can have a Bibliotheca-style edition in a translation you’re more likely to use.
6. Finally, I haven’t given up on Bibliotheca because I’m actually looking forward to discovering how Adam’s revised ASV will turn out. When the project passed the $1 million mark, I remember people saying that this would give Adam the change to license an in-demand translation, the assumption being that he’d settled on the ASV because it was royalty-free. Based on the way he talked about the translation, though, I figured that was unlikely. While I am not nearly as excited about the American Standard Version as he is, I can relate to the impulse that led Adam to love it and want to reintroduce it to the world. And if the result ends up finding favor, the extra investment made in creating the revision could make a kind of sense: Adam could license it, or release new editions in different formats.
Those are all the reasons I haven’t given up on Bibliotheca. It’s not that I’m not frustrated, it’s just that the frustrations seem understandable to me, and haven’t blunted my desire to see the books on my shelf. If you feel differently, no problem. My goal isn’t to convince anyone to see things my way, just to explain why I feel the way I do. Whether you backed the project or not, the good news is, we can expect more reader-friendly editions of the Bible in the future. While they may never supersede the classic reference format, I have hopes that at long last readable Bibles, which have come and gone over the years, will carve out a sustainable niche.
First Things has published my Christmas Guide to Buying a Bible: 2015 Supplement to offer options to anyone on the hunt for gift-giving ideas. Follow the link to see which Bibles I chose — and to share your own recommendations in the comments!
For the most part, I found myself emphasizing reader-friendly editions — no surprise — especially highly giftable ones. Some of my suggestions are Bibles I’ve written about here in the past, and some are new. Enjoy the list … and have a merry Christmas!
I am doing something today I don’t think I’ve ever done before at Bible Design Blog: reviewing two editions side-by-side. But then, it’s a unique situation. Two beautiful renderings of the same impressive design, both printed and bound by Jongbloed in the Netherlands.
A TALE OF TWO EDITIONS
Tyndale refers to this text setting as the NLT Select Reference Edition, while Schuyler offers it under the Caxton name. Both editions are printed and bound in the Netherlands by Jongbloed, and at first glance appear quite similar. The Caxton, however, features several grace notes that make it the more luxurious of the two — in particular the leather lining, upgraded ribbons, and wider range of cover colors. (As far as I can tell, the Select is printed on the same 28 gsm Indopaque paper as the Caxton.) If you prefer the Select’s more minimalist cover aesthetic, though, you can choose not only between black and brown, but also goatskin and calfskin covers.
For Schuyler, the Caxton represents both continuity and improvement. The consistent quality that has made Schuyler a market leader in the high-end Bible market is readily apparent here. In this sense, the Caxton is a ‘boring’ release — in the best possible way. You get exactly what you’ve come to expect from Schuyler’s line. At the same time, the leather lining marks a step forward for Schuyler, much nicer than the shiny synthetic liner in the Select’s cover (which is comparable to what we have seen in Cambridge editions from Jongbloed). More importantly, while this is not the first single-column setting from Schuyler, I believe it is the best.
The Select marks an even bigger advance for Tyndale, which dropped the former Select line (reviewed here) some time back. It’s great to see them returning to the high-quality market — and doing so in partnership with Jongbloed, too. Crossway entered this field awhile back, working with Jongbloed to bring us the excellent Heirloom line. Tyndale’s move ensures that readers of the NLT will enjoy Bibles of comparable design and quality.
THE TEXT SETTING
Since both editions use the same text setting, let me cover the interior design first. In a nutshell, the Select/Caxton offers a reader-friendly reference edition in the spirit of Cambridge’s Clarion and Crossway’s Personal Reference. The similarities are striking, especially comparing the Clarion. The same typeface is used, Lexicon, which a lot of designers I’ve spoken with consider the ideal when it comes to Bible typography. The cross reference system looks similar, with boldface chapter and verse headings in the outer margin and references underneath. Textual notes are placed at the bottom of the text column.
Comparing the Select/Caxton to the Clarion, however, you notice some differences. The chapter headings are set in bold italics instead of the Clarion’s plain italics. The page header is in all-caps, like the Clarion, but the spacing between letters is looser, which gives a more elegant impression (and is in keeping with the generally whiter, more spacious page).
The biggest difference has to do with page proportions and the resulting impact on the proportions of the text column. The Clarion page measures 5” x 7”, a classic footprint for books intended for hand-held reading. On that page, the text column is 3.5” wide and 6” tall, which creates a wide, page-filling impression. The Select/Caxton, however, is a larger book. The type size has been bumped from 7.5 pt. to 8.75 pt, and so the page is enlarged to accommodate, measuring 5.25” x 8.25” — comparable in width to the Clarion but a full 1.25” taller. The taller page allows a taller text column: the Select/Caxton’s single text column is 3.625” wide and 7” tall. In other words, while it’s only 0.125” wider than the Clarion, the Select/Caxton’s column is a full 1” taller than the Clarion’s.
As a result, the Select/Caxton sits prettily between the Clarion and another beloved single-column text setting, the Crossway Legacy. I mean that literally. This text setting looks like the fruit of a conversation that went something like this: “What if we took the text setting of the Clarion and gave it the proportions of the Legacy, minus the huge margins?” The Heirloom Legacy, in case you’re wondering, has a text column that measures 4” wide and 6.5” tall.
Another significant difference has to do with the line spacing, what typographers call ‘leading’ since in the old days of metal type, spacing between lines was achieved by inserting plugs of lead. Making allowance for my middle-aged eyes, I estimate the leading of the Clarion to be about 9.5 pt., while the larger Legacy has roughly 11 pt. leading. When I apply my scale to the Select/Caxton, though, I get something along the lines of 11.5 pt., which gives each line a bit more air to breathe. This can aid both readability and your ability to keep your place on the page, since lines spaced more generously are harder for the eye to mix up.
To be honest, I find the difference in type size between the Clarion and the Select/Caxton fairly negligible. I knew from the stats which one was larger, and confirmed this by measuring, yet eyeballing the two side-by-side I can’t really tell much difference. That is not the case with the leading, however. The extra line-spacing has a curious effect. At times the Clarion’s type appears as large or larger to my eyes, but the Select/Caxton’s lines are easier to skim over. I am not sure which page I prefer, frankly, and I cannot guarantee you would experience the same effect. It goes to show how significant even the smallest changes can be to the way we process words on the page.
Comparing the Select/Caxton to another high-end NLT, the R. L. Allan NLT1 (reviewed here), illustrates two very different approaches to readability. The Allan features Tyndale’s Premium Slimline Reference book block, a two-column text setting that packs larger individual words onto a considerably larger page. Even setting aside the Select/Caxton’s superior paper quality, I would argue that the Select/Caxton, by virtue of its spacious one-column text setting is both more readable and more suitable to general use.
One last detail I want to point out is that, thanks to the New Living Translation’s more fluent use of dialogue tags, the translation benefits particularly well from a single column layout. As the passage below from Acts 22 illustrates, despite the slight anachronism that comes from retaining dialogue tags at the beginning of speech instead of in the middle or end of the line, which is much more common in English today, the NLT is formatted in a way that will scan smoothly for readers, with minimal confusion about who’s saying what. This isn’t always true in more literal translations, where retaining the antique grammatical form of the dialogue tags prevents new speakers from being indicated by the start of a new paragraph.
The print impression in both Bibles — at least, both of my review copies — was nice and dark, consistent from page to page. Line-matching seemed very consistent, too. Occasionally I found what appeared to be mis-matches, but in fact this was the result of other pages showing through underneath (a harder metric to control). Jongbloed did an excellent job with the printing on these editions.
THE SCHUYLER CAXTON
Now that we’ve looked inside and considered what the Select and the Caxton have in common, I want to explore their differences more, which have mainly to do with the binding. My review copy of the Schuyler Caxton is bound in limp natural grain goatskin, in a shade of dark purple that I imagine resembles the shade of a Roman emperor’s toga. Byzantine emperors were said to have been “born to the purple,” and many quite literally were, their mothers having given birth in a palace chamber lined in porphyry.
The color compares favorably with the Cambridge Prayer Book & Bible bound in purple calf split leather. Like the Cambridge, the Caxton’s lining is black, and you know how unhappy black liners inside a color cover make me. My objection to the practice is rooted in the fact that black has been the default option for so long. To me, a color cover with a black lining just screams that no one was paying attention to the details. Having said that, in this instance I happen to know for a fact that someone was paying attention to the details. Early in the process, the folks at Schuyler queried me about what color lining to use with a purple cover. The available options were limited, and as much as it pained me, black was indeed the most complementary of the choices. The others would have made for jarring combinations. All this to say, I’m not deducting points for the black lining in this instance — not that I keep track of points to begin with! — but I don’t want anyone to think I’ve made peace with the thought of black linings in non-black covers. I haven’t, and I never will.
Whether my photos capture this or not, I must say that the purple cover and the purple ribbons make a painfully elegant combination. This is high church through and through. The red-under-gold page gilding and the gilt line around the inside cover are standard on Schuyler editions (also present on the Select), but something about the purple-on-purple combination elevates the look, each shade bringing out the richness of the other.
The bad news is, the purple Caxtons are all gone, sold out during the pre-order phase, and there won’t be more of them for months. Mourn if you want, but there are some beautiful color combinations available. Personally, I would suggest either the dark green or the antique marble brown. Or the blue. (Like I said, there are options.)
One tweak I would love to make to the Schuyler’s aesthetic is the scale of the printing on the book’s spine. It’s simply too large. The ‘HOLY BIBLE’ and ‘NEW LIVING TRANSLATION’ are borderline for me, but I would reduce them at least ten percent. This would make the spine less crowded and give a more refined impression.
The logo at the bottom could be reduced considerably more. Graphic designers often complain about the perennial client request to “make my logo bigger,” and for good reason. You want attention and you think the best way to get it is to yell. The design equivalent of a raised voice is the big logo. The reason designers buck is not just that oversized logos result in an unbalanced overall look; it’s because yelling doesn’t really have the effect the yeller thinks it does. Things that are balanced, in scale, in proportion, communicate a level of assurance that look-at-me enlargement never does. Over time, Schuyler’s cover decoration has grown more sophisticated. Bringing the elements into proportion on the spine should be the next big step.
Inside the cover, the story is all about the leather lining. While it may create a subtle improvement in feel, the gain I noticed most actually had to do with sound. One of the gripes I’ve heard from readers is that some high-end Bibles, when you handle them, make a squeaking sound. With the synthetic liner on the Select, I get a little bit of that — but I haven’t heard it once with the Caxton. Admittedly, comparing two individual copies falls short of a definitive test, but I’m going to tentatively agree with folks who’ve traced the sound back to the synthetic liners.
A NOTE ON THE HINGE
The Jongbloed hinge has been a concern of mine for awhile, and the Caxton review copy was sent along with a note to the effect that, while the problem hadn’t been eliminated, the in-house team at Schuyler felt that the hinges on the Caxton weren’t as stiff as past editions have been, resulting in a Bible more apt to open flat. Imagine my disappointment when I opened my Caxton and found it would not lay flat. The good news is, the disappointment has abated. Let me explain.
Out of the box, the Caxton did not feel any different to me than past Jongbloed Bibles, and I can confirm that the hinge is still there, and it is still stiff. What I found, however, was that with just a little bit of use, my Caxton was opening pretty much flat. Maybe the leather lining helped? Having two bindings of the same book block in hand presented a rare opportunity. I decided to see if the application of brute force would make the Select open flat the way the Caxton was. After bending the cover back and struggling with the hinge in ways I really wouldn’t recommend, I found that yes, the Select would open fairly flat, too. While these Jongbloed editions might not open as flat as, say, an Allan right out of the box, this seems to confirm that things get better with a bit of use.
Having said this, I should note that the new Heirloom Omega ESV, also printed and bound by Jongbloed, does open flat right out of the box — at least, my copy did. It, too, has a hinge, but a shallower one. I will be writing about this edition in the future.
THE TYNDALE SELECT
The impressive thing about the Tyndale Select is how favorably it compares to the Caxton. “Of course it does,” you’re thinking. “It’s the same book block printed by the same printer and bound by the same binder.” True enough. But Jongbloed can do a wide range of work at a variety of quality levels. The work they do for Allan, for example, is higher spec than standard Jongbloed-printed Cambridge Bibles. And when a major publisher releases a luxe edition, the details do not always live up to the hype.
That isn’t the case here, however. Tyndale has created a beautiful website to promote the Select, and this Bible deserves it. This is a well-made, elegant edition suited to deep reading, teaching, and study, the kind of Bible you could settle down with for the long term. While I have only seen the black goatskin option, based on my experience of Crossway’s similar Heirloom line, I feel fairly confident in recommending both the goat and calf editions, based on your preference. The Select features an excellent text setting in a variety of fine cover options.
Everything I’ve said so far about the Caxton’s quality applies equally to the Select, with two exceptions. The liner is synthetic rather than leather, and the two ribbons you get with the Select aren’t nearly as nice as the Caxton’s three. These factors do make the Caxton the more usable of the two, if we’re thinking of lifetime Bibles here.
The Select might have one advantage, though. The aesthetic of the cover may be more to your taste. Stacking the printing at the top of the spine gives the cover a clean, modern look. While I prefer the classic feel of the Schuyler, my graphic designer wife gives the Select her thumbs up. I suppose the fact that the choice might come down to which spine you like the look of best illustrates how successful Tyndale’s return to the high-end market has turned out.
NEW LIFE FOR THE NLT
I have turned to the New Living Translation for years as a back-up when working with more literal translations like the ESV, typically relying on an old hardback from the time of the original release. Despite my appreciation, I have never used the NLT as much as I might because the editions I’ve owned just aren’t designed the way I’d like. I thought that might change with the Allan NLT1, but despite my adoration for that big, floppy cover, I could never warm to the text setting itself.
Suddenly I find myself spoiled for choices: the Caxton in its beautiful array of colors, now with leather linings, and the Select in black and brown and the choice of goatskin or calf. The text setting, obviously, is what makes this Bible such an attractive option — but having it available in so many different color and binding options sure doesn’t hurt. NLT fans should be rejoicing about now. They’ve never had it so good.
Every translation with any kind of following deserves a reader-friendly reference edition like this, a single column setting with nice proportions that can serve today’s Bible reader as an all-around staple. There should be a NASB just like this, and an NIV and an NRSV. Insert whatever your favorite translation happens to be. If the NLT is your go-to, I can’t think of a single reason why you wouldn’t want a Caxton or a Select — or both — on your shelf. Not just on your shelf, either, but in your hands, and in the hands of your friends, your congregation, your Bible study partners. As far as the NLT goes, this is the text setting to have, and it’s available in a range of options that makes it simple to find the perfect edition for you.
A topic of perennial interest at Bible Design Blog has been bookbinding. My own efforts to learn the craft have led to relatively dismal results, though they’ve taught me a great deal about how books are made, and how difficult it can be to make them well. Recently Matthew Everhard took up the challenge, and after seeing some of his early results I reached out to see if he would share his story with us. Fair warning: if you linger over the pictures and follow the links, you may find yourself skinning the neighbor’s couch and trying your hand at a little recreational binding! — JMB
THE COMPLETE IDIOT’S GUIDE TO BIBLE REBINDING
by Matthew Everhard
There is no book called The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Bible Rebinding, but if such a volume is ever to be written, I have a feeling that I may inadvertently be its protagonist.
Let me tell you my story.
I got into Bible collecting as a hobby a couple of years ago, due largely to this very blog. Searching for a new ESV, I came across Mark’s reviews of the (then) new Legacy Heirloom edition by Crossway. I fell in love with the photography as well as Mark’s writing, and began breaking the Tenth Commandment regularly—a sin that I have repented of many times.
Mark’s site, of course, led me to other great editions by Cambridge, Schuyler and the like, including my Wide Margin ESV, which has now become my mainstay. With great paper, goatskin leather, a flexible binding and a gorgeous overall appearance, my Cambridge Bible became the love of my life. (Next to my wife, I should state clearly).
AN IDEA IS BORN
As many of you collectors already know, this is an expensive hobby. Very expensive. As a local church pastor, my income steam is sufficient, but not extravagant. That led me to the idea of Bible rebinding. If you could buy a Bible (cheap) and then cloak it with a goatskin cover, what is there to lose?
Rebinding, of course, can be an excellent way to turn any regular Bible into a super-Bible. My friend Matt Bassford wrote an article about how to get one done in calfskin for as little as $75. But even then, if you start picking up the fancy options, a good rebind can easily set you back triple digits.
So then I had an idea. As Dr. Suess once said, “a terrible … awful idea.” I’ll begin rebinding Bibles myself! After all, how hard could it be?
The tools are simple enough, sure: a razor blade, some Aileen’s tacky glue, a carpenter’s square, a cutting mat to preserve the kitchen table, and a $12 leather skiving knife that I bought from Asia. This dangerous implement is complete with really cool characters that I believe are loosely translated: “Warning: white guy with a sharp blade!”
LEATHER FOR PRACTICE
What about the leather, you ask? Quality leather is the sine qua non of a good rebind. Thankfully, there are a number of great places to order high quality leather, such as eBay or Springfield Leather. The key here is to get a good calfskin or goatskin leather, somewhere in the neighborhood of 1-2 ounces in thickness. Anything more than that will be too thick to fold well, and you will have to use that skiving knife a lot more than you want to. A good uncut, pre-dyed goatskin will run you about $30 – $40, so try not to mess up a lot. (On that ominous note, see more below.)
I am cheap. If I didn’t mention that before, now would be a good time to bring that up. I wanted yards and yards of free leather to use for practice so I could afford to make the predictable beginner’s mistakes. And I found that leather—in my neighbor’s trash one night.
When my block-buddy recently threw away his huge, two-piece soft leather couch, I knew I’d struck gold. My wife Kelly and I brought the couch home—with my friend’s permission, of course—and skinned that thing like a domestic beast bred just for its supple hide.
As a result, I now own dozens and dozens of square feet of rich, red-brown leather that has been worn to a soft comfortable state.
BOOK BLOCKS FOR PRACTICE
With a total investment still under $50, I was ready to begin with one more stop: the church lost and found. There, we have several dozen Bibles that have been missing their owners for many months. I checked through the pile and found a few old beaters that didn’t have any identifying marks, annoying name stamps on the cover, or personal items inside. In fact, I chose some of the ones that really did need repair, so that in the happenstance that the owner reappeared, they would thank me for the work.
HELP FROM A MASTER
The smartest move that I made was contacting a true master before beginning. Although there are many professionals that do Bible rebinding (Leonard’s Books, AA Leather and others come to mind), I contacted a young artisan from California who does beautiful work—right out of the shed near his home. I’ve written about Diego Caloca here, and you really should check out his stunning work. Diego kindly send me the 40-step pictorial procedure that he uses, and I was glad to follow his lead without reinventing the wheel. He’s made himself available to give me tips and pointers when necessary, and I appreciate the help greatly.
THE WORK BEGINS
One rainy Florida evening, my wife and I set out together to become Bible rebinders. We made our first cuts, and laid our first glue line. Let me tell you that it is much harder than it looks. If there is one rule of Bible rebinding that you should be aware of before you begin, it is this:
There are more ways to make mistakes than there are to succeed.
Believe me, we have made every error one can possibly make. (I think.) We have cut too much off and we have left too much on. We have cut too jagged and too straight. We have made our yapps too short, and we have even made one that looks like some kind of alien creature. We have gotten glue on the gilded page edges, and not enough glue on the liners. If there is a way to ruin a Bible, I’ve done it. I’d show you the pictures, but I’m afraid you’d unfriend me on Facebook.
Logically, I suppose, if we keep learning and making those rookie mistakes, we will eventually improve enough to the point where we can be content with our work. As husband and wife, we have spent several good, quality evenings together rebinding Bibles, which is always better than watching reruns of The Carbanaro Effect.
Will we ever be professional Bible rebinders like Leonard’s or master artisans like Diego? Probably not. But we do hope to improve just enough to show off a few good looking Bibles at our church’s craft show this fall.
And one day, perhaps I can even author The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Bible Rebinding.
* * *
Matthew Everhard is the Senior Pastor of Faith Evangelical Presbyterian Church in Brooksville Florida. He is the author of Hold Fast the Faith: A Devotional Commentary on the Westminster Confession of 1647 and a few other shorter books. You can read more by Matthew at AChristianManifesto.com.
With apologies to Baron Munchausen, I have learned from experience that a modicum of hyperbole can be most efficacious. This explains why my feature for the latest edition of Relay, the new online magazine of Worldview Academy, makes the case for reader-friendly Bibles by making the case against reference editions.
No, I haven’t gone (entirely) crazy … I just hope to get people’s attention by calling into question one of those truths we tend to hold self-evident: namely, that the accretion of ‘helps’ in your typical printed Bible are actually, well, helpful.
I took up this theme in my recent interview with The Bible Exchange, too.
“A help is something that assists you in solving a problem you can’t resolve on your own. The goal of help is to fill a gap until you develop the strength to fill it yourself without help. This is why a good teacher, in classroom discussion, doesn’t just give students the answers. Struggling with the problem is one way you learn. So ideally you would know your Bible well enough to find specific passages without help. Because you don’t, there are cross references, concordances, chapter and verse numbers, even thumb indexes if you can’t recollection the order of the books. If these things were just helps, you would rely on them less over time. That’s not what happens. Most of us find, when they are taken away, that we can’t do without them. That’s the definition of a crutch.”
Crazy talk? Maybe. But I find myself questioning more and more whether the helps are really helping. Over the years, I’ve tended to remain on the conservative end of the reader-friendly design spectrum. The section headings are useful, I’d argue. Surely we need the verse numbers. Lose the chapter breaks? Unthinkable. Yet my tendency recently has been to ask just how much I really need even the most basic helps. Even when I find I do need them, I wonder whether I should. Especially then, in fact.
Whatever your view, it makes for an interesting thought experiment. Check out the article and the whole of that interview question and tell me what you think.
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