Bible Design and Binding

Poor Man's Geneva Bible - Rebound by Leonard's Book Restoration

A few months back, I received an e-mail from California Dave asking some questions about the Geneva Bible. He was on a quest, and the end result is a magnificently rebound facsimile edition. The starting point was a Hendrikson's reprint of the 1560 edition, which went to Leonard's Book Restoration for star treatment. The results are pretty stunning. So let's let Dave tell the story -- accompanied by photos. There's even a contribution from Eric Haley, who did the work at Leonard's, explaining the process. Dave's text is in red, and Eric in blue. Enjoy!

Short and Stout: Ideal Form Factor for Single Column Settings?

Certain ratios just seem to work. No doubt there's a mathematic expression of the principle, a variation of some kind on the golden mean, but numbers were never my strong point. All I know is, when it comes to books, some proportions just feel right. While there's no single ideal, if you ask me, we can identify combinations of height, width, and thickness that function beautifully. 

Large thinline Bibles are a good example. If it's wide enough and thin enough, something magical seems to happen. Opening it up, turning the pages, letting it hang limp from your hand, there's a mild aesthetic joy in the nuances of handling. 

Above: The Oxford combined NRSV with Apocrypha and 1979 Book of Common Prayer (top) may not look sleek and elegant in comparison to the ESV portfolio thinline (below), but believe me, the proportions work.

And I would argue the same thing is true with the small, fat Bible, too. While it may not look elegant in comparison to its sleek companion, trust me, it's wonderful. A thick Bible does what a slender one can't: it fills the hand. Now if that thick Bible is also tall and wide, the mammoth-like result, while impressive to the eye, won't be nearly so pleasing in the hand. It's the added thickness in the small package that makes the difference.

Tyndale Select NLT in Mahogany Calfskin

Thin is in, which is a good thing. And a bad thing. First, let's get the negatives out of the way. Because we like thinline Bibles so much, I think publishers may be a bit reluctant to come out with an edition that's too thick, for fear that we'll reject it. As a result, certain design virtues -- like prioritizing the page spread over the book -- can be squeezed out. Since the ideal single column setting I'm always stumping for requires larger print, it'll be thicker than its two-columned cousin. So the last thing I want to do is set an artificial width limit. 

 

Above: The Tyndale Select NLT in Mahogany Calfskin. When it comes to slouching, it's no slouch.

Not to mention, with so many people growing concerned about inordinately translucent paper and its impact on reading, I want to be circumspect is cheering for slimlines, since one way to cut the fat is with gossamer-fine pages. 

Pitt Minion? Meet Filofax.

In the past, I've written about the relationship between notebooks and Bibles, and also about my hunt for tan notebooks to complement my tan Allan's ESV1. Don't be surprised if it's a topic I return to more in the future, because I find that many of us who are interested in quality Bibles also have a soft spot for companion notebooks. To me, there are two things that make for a good one: a harmonious color combination, and a nice proportion. If the notebook isn't the same size as the Bible, it should at least be close enough that carrying the two together is convenient.

As you can imagine, when it comes time to grab a Bible and head to church, I'm somewhat spoiled for choices. In worship, my preference is for a small, handy edition, something that's there when I need it, but doesn't get in the way when I have hymnals or an order of worship to juggle. I'm unlikely to use cross references or study notes during worship, so I don't care much about that. Size is the thing. 

Recently, though, I've been doing a lot of volunteer work at church, which needs organizing, and so I've brought along something I don't ordinarily: my Filofax. If you came of age in the Blackberry era, you might not know what this is, so imagine a PDA made out of paper. Better yet, here's a picture:

Above: A vintage Filofax in tan calfskin and a Cambridge ESV Pitt Minion in brown goatskin.

Cambridge ESV Wide Margin Reference: Black Goatskin, Brown Cabra Bonded Leather, and Hardback

More of the same. In most cases, a judgment phrased like that would be negative. Ho hum. Nothing new. Same old, same old. But when the object in question is a Cambridge wide margin, "more of the same" is high praise. In fact, anything else would be a disappointment. I've written about the Wide Margin Reference twice before: first, when it appeared in its NASB incarnation, and again when the NKJV hit the shelves. The big difference between the two was the addition of a line of stitching along the cover's edge, apparently to prevent de-lamination. Now the Wide Margin Reference is available in the English Standard Version, with three binding options to choose from -- black goatskin, brown Cabra bonded leather, and a gray hardback.

 

Above: The ESV Wide Margin Reference comes in three attractive bindings -- Brown Cabra bonded leather (top), a gray hardcover (middle), and black goatskin (bottom).

 

If you want a black letter text, choose either the hardcover or the black goatskin edition with black ribbons. For red letter aficionados, there's a black goatskin edition with red ribbons and the brown Cabra bonded leather. The text setting inside is the same as the one in the ESV Pitt Minion, only bigger, which means your favorite passages are not only on the same page when you switch from one volume to the other, but in exactly the same place on the page.

 

Above: The fact that the text settings are identical makes switching between the smaller Pitt Minion (below) and the Wide Margin Reference a breeze.