Bible Design and Binding

Pitt Minion vs. Compact Text ESV

Appearances can be deceiving. Which of these two Bibles is bigger, the green or the brown?

If you said the green, it's no surprise. Although it appears perhaps a hair shorter in the photo above, the green Bible, a Compact Text ESV from R. L. Allan, is clearly the thicker of the two -- at least 1.5 times larger than the brown volume, a Cambridge Pitt Minion. 

But turn them around and ask the same question. Which of these two is smaller?

See what I mean about appearances? Because of its semi-yapp cover, the Compact Text appears to be as tall as the Pitt Minion. In fact, it's both shorter and narrower. When you hold it in your hand, the Compact Text feels much smaller than the Pitt Minion. This photo tells the story best:

A third question: does smaller mean better? Let's admit from the outside that a post called "Pitt Minion vs. Compact Text ESV" is about as absurd as, saying, "Legacy vs. Clarion." There are similarities, sure, but there are big differences, too. Still, the comparison is relevant in at least one regard. Before the Compact Text ESV came along, the Pitt Minion was arguably the best all-around "compact" edition, even if its form factor stretched the definition just a bit. The Compact Text existed in the form of Crossway's Deluxe Compact, but its binding wasn't in the same league as the Jongbloed-bound edition from Cambridge.

Now there's a new version with an excellent binding, so the question is, "Can the Compact Text ESV replace the Pitt Minion as the leading small-format copy of the ESV?"

Above: My four-year-old, broken in Pitt Minion (left)
vs. a brand new Compact Text ESV (right).

Viewed from above, the two Bibles manifest that deceptive similarity in form. Inside, the two layouts appear quite different, though there are interesting parallels. The Compact Text doesn't have a center column filled with cross references. If you pulled those references out of the Pitt Minion and butted the two columns together, however, you'd end up with a proportion similar to the Compact Text's. That's because the actual text columns in the two Bibles are the same width -- 1.5" across. The Pitt Minion's type is set in 7 pt. Lexicon. The Compact Text is slightly smaller at 6.5 pt., and while the type is presumably Lexicon as well, there's less letterspacing, so the lines look tighter all around. While a Pitt Minion text column is six inches tall, the Compact Text's column is only 5.25". 

Boiling it all down, I would say the Pitt Minion is easier to read, while the Compact Text is easier to carry. In terms of layout, however, I'm giving the nod to the Pitt Minion.

The Pitt Minion excells in another area, too, which is opening flat. As you can see in the photo above, the Compact Text required an assist to keep Ephesians 1 front and center, whereas the Pitt Minion can hold that pose all day long. While the Compact Text will perhaps improve with use in this regard, I can't imagine it ever rivaling the Pitt Minion's open-flat friendliness. 

In terms of paper quality, my first instinct is to crown the Pitt Minion again. It was printed in the Netherlands, not China -- isn't that enough? Well, here's the thing. While the Compact Text shows enough bleedthrough to make me wish Crossway had printed it on more opaque paper, the Pitt Minion sports a five o'clock shadow, too. I'm going to call this one a wash, although I lean a little toward the Pitt Minion because its paper feels nicer to the touch. 

Where the Pitt Minion really can't compete is aesthetics. I'm not prepared to say that an Allan binding is more durable, longer lasting than any other. The Pitt Minion's classic pastedown binding, in which the endpapers are pasted securely all along the cover's length, might be more rugged than the Allan's edge-lined style, where the book block is secured to the cover via tabs at the spine. Then again, maybe not. I have no idea. But the elegance of the latter is indisputable. The Allan binding is more refined to the eye and feels better to the touch. 

Which is not to say that the goatskin of one is infinitely better than the other. I imagine they're comparable in quality. What makes the Allan binding so nice is the semi-yapp cover, the leather lining, the gilt line around the inside, the neat gold imprint inside the front and back cover, even the lined paper in back. It's all very nice, completely delightful. The overall effect wins you over at once.

Is that enough, though, to crown the Compact Text triumphant?

Here's what I think. The Pitt Minion is still the best all-around edition. No, it isn't the most compact, but it does small pretty good. You get references, a slight bump in type size, and that coveted flat-opening cover. There's a reason some people use the Pitt Minion as their one-and-only, and the Compact Text won't change that.

However, while the Pitt Minion is a superior all-rounder, the Compact Text delivers true small-format performance. If you're looking for a small edition to fill the portable niche, then form factor will be more important to you than font size and references. The Compact Text is a better choice.

The Swiss Army's Solution to Tiny Type

"My poor eyes can't take the strain!" This lament reaches my inbox every couple of days, aimed at the increasing difficulty aging readers experience with the tiny print inside their Bibles. In a context where 12 pt. type is considered large print, this is not surprising. Sadly, there isn't a miraculous ultra-thin, super-large-print compact Bible on the market that nobody's told you about. 

Victorinox, however, the makers of the iconic Swiss Army Knife, have a solution:

If you are straining your eyes to figure out what's in the picture above, it's a magnifying glass. This model knife is called an Explorer Plus. (The Plus means there's an extra screwdriver, a pin, and a ballpoint concealed within the handle.) I'm not sure which styles of SAK come with the magnifying glass, but if you struggle with the small print, you might consider finding out. 

I'm serious.

Antiquarians and consulting detectives throughout the ages have availed themselves of a magnifying glass in order to read fine print (and discover clues). The principal is similar to that employed by the cheap "reading glasses" they sell at the drug store: a little lens magnifies the size of what you're looking at, making it easier to see. The problem with the glasses is they slip to the tip of your nose and make people think you're a judgmental librarian type. With the Swiss Army Knife, they assume you were going for the scissors and pulled the wrong lever. 

I wouldn't exactly call the level of magnifcation provided by the SAK "robust." Laying on the page, it just about doubles the size of what's beneath, which is not too shabby. Examining the photo below, you'll notice that the word "hear" in the magnifier is a lot easier to read than the word "hide" in the next verse. Wave one of these in front of the R. L. Allan Compact Text ESV and that 6.5 pt. type expands to, like, 11. If you hold it back a bit, you're in large print territory.

Whenever the Levenger catalog arrives in my mailbox, I always flip through to make sure the Franklin Library Stand Desk is still there. One day, I hope to have one of these -- or a vintage equivalent -- in my office, with a nice big lectern Bible on top:

See the little globe poking up above the book? That's a magnifier. It comes with the desk, which is a thoughtful touch. Here's another image, illustrating the domed magnifier a little better:

The idea is that, as you're reading, you place the dome on top of the page and it makes the words freakishly large. If you carried one of these things in the wild, you'd be mistaken for a fortune teller -- not to mention the risk of starting unintentional fires. But in the comfort and privacy of your reading abode, using such an aid is perfectly acceptable.

For reading out and about, I recommend the Swiss Army Knife. 

R. L. Allan Compact Text (ESV) in Black, Brown, Green, and Crimson Goatskin

The original Compact setting of the ESV was so tiny and hard on the eyes that, the first time I visited Crossway, they cried mea culpa when the subject came up. Just to show how out of step I am, the reason I brought the little Bible up was to lavish praise on its portability. I've always been a fan of tiny Bibles. Remember the snap-closure Bibles they used to sell that were so small they came with magnifying glasses? Normal people saw this and thought, "Something has gone terribly wrong in the world." Me, I was delighted. In an anticipation of my future life as a Bible design blogger, my first question was whether, if you tried these things out in the sunlight, the pages would burst into flame.

Crossway replaced the original setting with the Deluxe Compact, which featured darker and larger print at the expense of a slightly larger overall footprint. I liked the result so much that I had one rebound in tan pigskin. Now, R. L. Allan has come out with line of exquisitely bound editions of the text setting, available in four colors: black, brown and crimson Highland goatskin, and (a new addition to the line) sea-green Alhambra goatskin. Now called the Compact Text ESV, they are available from R. L. Allan direct and at EvangelicalBible.com. 

Featuring the revised 2011 ESV text, these Bibles start with Crossway's standard text block, which is printed in China. The paper appears off-white, especially in lower light, and there is noticeable bleedthrough, particularly in verse passages. 

As you can see in the photo below, the Compact Text is a two-column, paragraphed setting without references. At 7 pt., the type is crisp but small. Make no mistake, if you have difficulty reading fine print, this is not the right Bible for you. No typographical magic exists to compensate for aging eyes. If you can handle the print, however, the Compact Text has a lot to offer. 

If you ignore the difference in text settings, a good way to think about the Compact Text ESV is this: It's an Allan Reader's ESV zapped down to miniature size. You get the same range of features : the limp goatskin binding with leather lining, three ribbons, art-gilt page edges, semi-yapp cover, even the additional lined notepaper in back. Only the 6" x 4" form factor makes everything so ... cute. 

Later in the week, we'll compate the Compact Text to its obvious rival, the Cambridge Pitt Minion. For now, one anecdote that illustrates the quality of the Allan binding. When the Compact Texts arrived from Glasgow, I handed them one-by-one to my wife and asked her to pick a favorite color. Then I handed her my brown Pitt Minion along with the brown Compact Text. "Which one would you choose?" Like a sensible person, she looked inside. It was a no brainer: the Pitt Minion was much more readable for her. Handing them back, though, she asked to see the Compact Text again. "If it was just about the aesthetics, this would win hands down." She could hardly make out the words, but was tempted to choose that one anyway. Behold the power of Highland goatskin and three golden ribbbons.

Because I received the black review copy a few weeks prior to the others, I had a chance to spend more time with it. Typically, if there's a choice of color, black doesn't appeal to me much. Without a choice, I found myself re-evaluating. The black goatskin cover paired with blue ribbons is truly elegant. Nine times out of ten, when it comes to Bible binding, black is blah. It's the knee-jerk, traditionalist wrapper, about as intentional as the scuffed black dress shoes at the back of your closet you only wear at funerals. Here, however, black is beautiful. 

Since the Pitt Minion mates perfectly with my personal-sized Filofax, I wondered how the Compact Text would pair up. It's thicker than the Pitt Minion, but also shorter and narrower. I've tended to think of the two formats as roughly equivalent, but the Compact Text feels like a smaller Bible. As a result, things that carry easily in the hand along with the Pitt Minion feel too large for the Compact Text. This should help illustrate the point:

The Compact Text (top) may sport some additional girth, but it's a good half inch narrower and shorter, which makes it feel substantially smaller. The Pitt Minion's wider pages probably handle better -- but then, that's one of the trade-offs when you sacrifice size for portability.

One of the things I have always admired about R. L. Allan's UK-bound ediitons is the level of fit and finish that goes into the covers. They remind me of vintage deluxe editions (like this Eyre & Spottiswoode) much more than they approximate their contemporary rivals. Refined without being showy, they exude old world elegance. Of course, the cover is only part of the story. A beautiful binding can't transform a poor text block. In this case, I give the overall effect a thumbs up.

I also appreciate the fact that, as the covers change, so do the linings: black for black, red for red, brown for brown, and green for green.

Highland goatskin is a term of art R. L. Allan uses to describe natural grain goatskin. In other words, this leather has not been stamped with an artificial grain pattern. Rather, it's natural grain in all its wonderful, organic asymmetry is on display. This allows the leather to remain limp (the process of imprinting grain uses heat, which stiffens the skin) and ensures irregularity. The covers show similarities, but they also differ from one another substantially.

The sea-green Alhambra goatskin cover, by contrast, features a much more regular grain, without the fissures and creases you find on the natural skin. While the imprinting hasn't resulted in a stiff leather -- handling the two types, most of us wouldn't notice the difference unless it was pointed out -- in addition to the regularity of grain, the cover possesses a crispness the natural goatskin doesn't. 

Perhaps the best way to observe this quality visually is to compare the semi-yapp edges. The red cover, which was cut slightly larger than the others, curves more substantially and puckers quite a bit near the top of the spine. The black and brown are less pronounced, but you'll notice a soft, uneven look to the edges. By contrast, the green cover looks very clean and regular. 

Perhaps this qualifies as splitting hairs, but people often ask me about the difference between natural grain leather and printed grain skins, so I figured I would chime in here. In my world, there's a place for both. The differences are aesthetic, not qualitative. 

All of the Compact Texts come with three ribbons. The black and red covers have blue ribbons, the green has green ribbons, and the chocolate brown cover comes with gold ribbons. I'd be hard pressed to choose a favorite; however, while I could imagine the other colors working with a different shade of ribbon, to me the brown-and-gold pairing is ideal. I've never seen any color paired with brown that I preferred to this. Happily, a number of R. L. Allan's latest chocolate brown bindings come with these gold ribbons.

The Compact Text ESV is clearly a niche editon. I can't imagine very many people embracing it as their one-and-only. Having said that, the fact is, you could. This would make a great Bible to travel with, a great everyday companion. I would bring it to church in a heartbeat, knowing the small size wouldn't get in the way as I juggled hymnal, order or worship, and whatever else I happened to have at hand. As you read this, I am traveling cross country lecturing at Worldview Academy, and the Compact Text ESV is the Bible I've taken with me. 

While it probably won't replace your full-size edition and it isn't as optimal for pure reading as the Legacy and Clarion ESVs, the beautifully appointed Compact Text is smaller, more portable, and up to the job.

Breaking In the Pitt Minion

As I mentioned earlier in the week, my brown goatskin Pitt Minion has served as a mainstay during the past four years. If you had told me in 2008 that this would happen, I would not have believed it. Frankly, I hated the thing at first. Hate is a strong word, but you have to understand, I had such high hopes for the brown Pitt Minion. I'm not a black Bible kind of guy, nor am I a stiff cover kind of guy. So I needed the Pitt Minion to be non-black (check) and soft (uncheck). 

While the cover wasn't as stiff as some late nineties calfskin I could mention -- so stiff you could put an edge on it and slice fingers -- the Pitt Minion wasn't soft. It could stand all by itself, which is a great thing if you're a toddler learning to walk. Not so much if you're a high-end Bible.

"Don't think I'm going to treat you special," I told the Pitt Minion. "'Cause you're not special. You're stiff." True to my word, I twisted the cover, bent it, curled it, rolled it up like a newspaper -- and I did all this with white-knuckled intensity becasue I didn't care what happened. If I ripped the cover off, if I tore the binding, none of it mattered. 

A great man once said -- was it Bono? -- that karma is getting what you deserve and grace is not getting what you deserve. In the case of the Pitt Minion, I received grace. All this abuse didn't destroy the little Bible. It made the Pitt Minion better. I can't exactly recommend the procedure ... but it worked. 

If I had to describe my Pitt Minion's cover today, I'd called it "rubbed." It looks well-handled, because that's exactly what it is. All that twisting -- along with more conventional use -- has resulted in the cover wrapping around the edges somewhat. There's a little pinch at the spine. Near the headband and along the top edge, there are some pale nicks in the leather.  

No, the cover didn't turn limp. It still possesses enough of its original rigidity to support the text block in my hand. But I've found I quite like that. Part of the break-in process involved softening the cover. To be more precise, I was bending and stressing the board underneath. Part of the process was also, in some esoteric sense, making this edition my own. 

There's a tendency for those of us who appreciate well-made Bibles to consider them as objects to collect and admire rather than use. All bibliophiles are prone to this. Michael Russem writes about the phenomenon in the Fall 2007 issue of The Bonefolder in a piece called "The Failure of Fine Printing." See if this rings a bell:

Because we are so accustomed to mass market productions, the physical elements and processes traditionally chosen for fine press books -- handmade paper, letterpress, and hand bindings -- are foreign to the average reader and thus call too much attention to themselves, over stimulating the senses and spirit. It is impossible to handle them without relishing in the deliciousness of the materials -- though all the while feeling panic over the possibility of damaging these precious items. It is difficult to imagine curling up in bed with a full leather or a delicate paper binding as one would do so readily with a paperback. Because the editions are so luxurious and often unwieldy, it is impractical and terrifying to read these book. People are often afraid to even touch them.

The end result, with apologies to Augustine, is that we take, but we do not read. Ironically, in pampering "fine" books this way, we are giving in to the assumptions that drive mass market consumerism. Equating quality with luxury, perpetuating the idea that some things are too well made to actually use, is what keeps the abismal standards prevalent in the industry alive. And Russem is talking about true fine press books. By his standards, the high-end Bibles we cherish are mass produced. 

Above: Note the light dots near the head and where the top layer has flecked away.

When I stopped caring about preserving the Pitt Minion, when I stopped caring even what happened to it, I discovered this little Bible really was made to be used. It hasn't fallen apart. There aren't any missing pages. The ribbon hasn't even frayed significantly. The abuse hasn't ruined this Bible's looks. In fact, to me, it looks much finer than your shiny new ones in their glossy protective boxes. 

All it took was a little of this (see above). "I will break you," I said. And the Pitt Minion, channeling Paul Atreides, replied: "I will bend like a reed in the wind." 

Cambridge Pitt Minion (ESV) in Brown Split Calf

Four years after its release, the Pitt Minion ESV remains one of my go-to editions. To borrow from the late Steve Jobs, this Bible has a "magical" form factor. It's small and thin enough to qualify as a compact edition, but sufficiently full-featured to serve as your main (or only) Bible. I wrote about the Pitt Minion in depth when the new editions first came out. Today, we'll bring the story up to date and take a look at one of the new cover options: brown split calf.

In some respects, my love for the Pitt Minion makes no sense. As you know, I'm an advocate for single column, paragraphed text settings -- Bibles that look like the kind of books you read, not the ones in which you merely look things up. I also tend to prefer the "less in more" approach when it comes to inserting study apparatus in the text. If they're subtle, I can abide chapter and verse numbers, and even section headings. But everything else, including cross references, leaves me cold.

On top of that, the books that feel best in my hand tend to be short and stout. Our mania for thinline editions seems to do more harm than good, in my view. When your 1000+ page, small-print Bible is half the thickness of a 300-page thriller in hardback (and ten times more difficult to read), I'm not sure the trade-offs are really worth it.

And yet, for the past four years, the Bible I've done more reading from, more teaching from, and even more preaching from is the Cambridge Pitt Minion. Why? Despite the smaller size, I find the Pitt Minion quite readable. The relative proportion of type size to column width seems to work, even if I have to hold the page rather close to my middle-aged eyes in certain light. Also, the slightly-larger-than-compact size makes the Pitt Minion easy to handle, easy to hold onto. 

Probably the best thing the Pitt Minion has going for it is its spring-open binding. These Bibles lay flat, and that's the most important handling characteristic I look for. 

The Pitt Minion is printed and bound by Jongbloed in the Netherlands, and recently Jongbloed has been turning out some excellent split calf bindings. They're not as limp as goatskin, not as elegant as fine calf, but they are attractive and affordable alternatives to the run-of-the-mill bindings most publishers are still offering. They have visual and tactile interest.

Finely grained leather often appears more elegant. A deep printed grain like we see in this split calf conveys more rugged connotations. The covers feel more rugged in the hand, too, which may be as much a function of the board under the leather as the skin itself. The brown split calf cover in the photos reminds me quite a bit of my brown goatskin Pitt Minion when I first received it: nice to look at, and stiff enough to stand all on its own.

There was a time when I abhored such stiffness. I wanted Bibles to come out of the box like melted chocolate, as elegant and slouchy as an odalisque on her couch. While I'm still a fan of limp bindings, my experience with the brown goatskin Pitt Minion reminded me of something I've always known: there's something to be said for things that break in over time. Like a pair of good shoes (i.e., the ones with the soles stitched on, not glued), a Bible can break in as the result of frequent use, developing a lived-in charm that will never come fresh out of a box. Those of us who baby our Bibles and keep them sheltered in the box never experience this. It's a shame.

The split calf is an excellent choice if you're on a budget. It makes sense, too, if you're one of those people who actually wants a certain degree of stiffness in a cover. I'd trust one of these upright on a shelf far more than it's squishy cousins. Later in the week, we'll take a look at my four-year-old goatskin Pitt Minion and see how it compares to this one.

 

 

Summer Schedule

Every summer, I pack my bags and hit the road, lecturing across the country in conjunction with Worldview Academy. The weeklong camps, hosted at universities throughout the US, focus on practical theology, apologetics, and leadership training. While it's a wonderful experience, something I love doing, the usual consequence for Bible Design Blog is silence during the months of June and July. 

Not this year.

I've planned something special for you during Summer 2012. For the last few weeks, I've been feverishly writing and photographing and even filming, creating enough content to guarantee that Bible Design Blog will not only not go silent in June and July, but will be updated more frequently than ever before. 

In June, we'll be looking at the R. L. Allan Compact Text ESV (in four colors), the Personal Size editions of the New Cambridge Paragraph Bible, and a unique KJV/RV interlinear published by Northern Ireland's Crimond House. We will also check in with my well-loved four-year-old Cambridge Pitt Minion to see how it's holding up, and take an inside look at how book blocks are assembled. At the end of the month, we'll also look under the cover and see the inner workings of two types of binding: paste-off and edge-lined.

In July, after a peek at Hendrickson's facsimile 1611 Edition of the KJV, we'll go in depth with a series of recent R. L. Allan editions: the HCSB in luxurious crimson Highland goatskin, the new NIV bound in a less limp brown goatskin that I absolutely adore, and the NRSV in brown Highland goatskin (a truly welcomed edition for lovers of that strangely under-represented translation). We will also have a look at a series of interesting vintage editions: a mid-century masterpiece printed in Italy, a letterpress Gospel, a three-volume KJV that (for me) doesn't live up to the hype, and the fascinating Eric Gill-designed Aldine Bible. At the month's close, we have beautifully produced edition of the Hebrew Gospels. 

Along the way, expect a surprise or two. The fun kicks off this Monday, June 4, with a look at the Cambridge Pitt Minion in brown split calf, and it won't let up for the next nine weeks!

So I have two favors to ask: 

(1) Tune in. If you haven't already bookmarked the site or subscribed to the RSS feed, now is the time. We're going to have a lot of content coming out in a relatively short amount of time (especially by BDB standards), so don't miss it.

(2) Talk about it. I always appreciate being linked to, re-blogged, tweeted, etc. The videos included in some of the reviews are simple to embed in your own posts and share. Help a brother out and spread the word.

PS ... One of the things I enjoy about traveling cross-country is the opportunity to meet Bible Design Blog readers in person. My schedule this summer follows Worldview Academy's Northeast route, and includes weeks in St. Paul, MN; Deerfield, IL; Upland, IN; Grove City, PA; Rochester, NY; Keene, NH; and Lancaster, PA. If you're in or around those locations, send me an e-mail and let me know. 

 

R. L. Allan Brevier Clarendon (KJV) in Black and Brown Vachetta Calfskin

We have already looked at the wide margin edition of the Brevier Clarendon setting from R. L. Allan, and now it's time to consider its hand-sized cousin. 

When I first wrote about the Brevier Clarendon in 2008, I much preferred this classic setting to the Brevier Blackface, which in comparison takes all its quirks just a step too far for my taste: the blackface test is too dark, the self-pronouncing text is too diced up, and so on. Four years later, I'm of the same opinion. The Brevier Clarendon is clearly an old school text setting -- double column with references tucked in between, verse-by-verse line breaks, running heads up top rather than in the text. If that's what you're looking for, this is a beautifully produced example.

Because of the Brevier Clarendon's popularity, they are not only back in print but available in a variety of binding styles: naturally-grain Highland goatskin, goatskin, Vachetta calfskin, and French Morocco. One of the French Morocco editions even comes with thumb indexing for a truly old school experience. You can order from R. L. Allan directly and also from EvangelicalBible.com. 

The review copies here are both bound in Vachetta calfskin. Like the wide margin, these Bibles are both printed and bound by Jongbloed in the Netherlands. As a result, the bindings and ribbons have a somewhat Cambridgey look to them. They're nicely printed and well put together, and the calfskin is a welcome addition to the range. Unlike the split calf used in the wide margin, these covers are soft to the touch, with a semi-matte sheen, not stiff exactly but certainly firm. 

The paper in the hand-sized Brevier doesn't appear to be the same as the excellent sheets used in the wide margin. (I haven't taken the liberty of marking these up with a fountain pen, either.) Subjectively speaking, the opacity seems a bit less to me. Having said that, they are better than average, comparable to what you'd find in a Cambridge Pitt Minion, I'd guesstimate. The brown edition comes with two ribbons, a dark coppery brown and a gold. The black edition's two ribbons are blue and bright red.

As I mentioned in the original 2008 article, one of the interesting vintage features of the Brevier Clarendon is something called a Cyclopedic Concordance. As the name suggests, it's a sort of encyclopia + concordance, including all sorts of Bible handbook-style information that would ordinarily be excluded from a portable volume. I've mentioned before how essential maps in the back of the Bible were to relieving the tedium of over-long sermons during my youth. The Cyclopedic Concordance would have made the time fly. 

Vachetta calfskin feels smooth to the touch, with a tight grain. The covers are thick, sturdily pasted down in the traditional style. The finish isn't "hard" in the way that classic Cambridge Cameos in calfskin were, neither is it shiny. There's a dull gleam to the leather. In the video, I suggest that the cover should "break in" with use, but I'd like to revise that sentiment somewhat. Unlike, say, my brown Pitt Minion, which started off stiff and softened up over time, these Breviers don't feel like they have a stiff board under the leather. Rather, the thickness of the cover (leather, board, lining) gives the Brevier some heft. When I roll the cover in my hand, though, I don't feel resistance from the board underneath. 

This leads me to think that the Brevier does not requite "break in." Instead, it simply handles differently than a Bible with a thinner, limper overall cover. 

Given my predilection for color, it's not surprising that I've gravitated toward the brown. Somehow I picked up a couple of light-colored dings on the front, whcih are visible in the photograph above. This leads me to wonder what kind of patina might develop with use. 

Compared to the usual thick, long Allan ribbons, these are are on the thin, short side, similar to the ribbons in a Pitt Minion. I don't mind, though I do prefer the thicker ribbons.

One thing I do mind is that the brown cover comes with a black lining. Whenever I see this, I'm always disappointed. The combination of black and brown simply doesn't look right. I would have preferred a lining chosen to compliment the color of the cover. Is this enough to push me toward the black cover? Not really. But it does bug me enough to justify the mention.

The art gilt edges and rounded spines look good. 

As I mentioned in the wide margin review, the new Brevier re-release means you can now enjoy the same text setting in a portable carry Bible and a larger notetaking edition, and the page numbers and placement of text on the page will match up. One of my ideals is a three-size "system" of editions -- pocket-sized, hand-sized, wide margin -- all using the same text setting so that you can switch back and forth without taxing your brain's muscle memory (or whatever it's called). Like the Pitt Minion + Wide Margin combos from Cambridge, this gets you two-thirds of the way there. 

There are certain text settings which develop a cult following over time. The Brevier Clarendon is certainly one of them. Oxford has let this and other classic KJV settings fall by the wayside, so it's nice to see R. L. Allan resurrecting them for old fans (and new). 

 

R. L. Allan Brevier Clarendon Wide Margin Edition (KJV)

The Brevier Clarendon is back and more interesting than ever. R. L. Allan's earlier edition of this classic Oxford KJV text setting (reviewed here) sold out some time ago, but it's been resurrected both in its original form factor and as a beautiful wide margin edition. In this post, we'll look at the wide margin, which is available in two bindings, both of them black. The softbound 5WM - Highland Goatskin will set you back a little more than the 7WM - Italian split calfskin, but adds some nice touches in return. These Bibles are available direct from R. L. Allan and from EvangelicalBible.com. 

Here's something new. A quick silent movie to give you an idea of the handling experience of the highland goatskin edition:

Enjoy it? I hope so ... Here's the same thing again, this time with the split calf edition:

(Note: I've already written about the excellent paper quality in this edition: "'Opaque, Lightweight and Writeable?': Putting an Allan Brevier to the Test." Since the whole point of a wide margin edition is to write in the margin, paper is a big concern. I'll say a little bit more about the paper below, but to see how it holds up to fountain pen ink, follow the link.) 

In addition to being printed in the Netherlands by Jongbloed, the new Brevier Clarendons (both standard and wide margin editions) were bound there, too. The split calf binding bears a strong resemblance to the recent split calf editions from Cambridge, also bound by Jongbloeds, but the upscale goatskin edition has upgraded specs like an attractive blue leather lining. This is what the Brevier wide margin looks like compared to the Allan ESV Reader's Edition:

The biggest difference between the two is the way the cover of the Brevier projects straight out instead of curving over the page edges. This gives the Brevier an exaggerated footprint. 

To match the pretty navy ribbons, the goatskin-bound Brever has a blue leather lining. The cover boasts the same limp feeling as the UK-bound Allan editions in highland goatskin, though the imprinting inside is different. 

In the photo below, you can see how the cover is attached to the text block. Instead of pasted-down endpapers to hold it in place (which is how hardback books and many Bibles are bound), the blue tab is pasted under the endpaper attached to the text block:

Inside, the goatskin and split calf editions are identical. The margins are generous, even on the inside, which means you can write notes next to either column of text -- a big advantage compared to double-column wide margins that only give you space next to the outer column. The goatskin edition has three navy ribbons and the split calf comes with three red ones.

In both editions, lined notepaper is bound in back. This is a handy place to keep notes or outlines you refer to frequently. For example, I have a Bible whose lined paper I've used to copy outlines of how the doctrine of the Trinity and the deity of Christ were developed biblically -- essentially a digest of the "argument" in each case. In another, I've copied various quotations from theological sources. You can also use these pages for regular note-taking ... but since they're bound into the Bible, I tend to think through what I want to write before making it permanent.

The goatskin cover is very limp and flexible, as you'd expect. While I'd prefer to see the edges curved over, in every other respect, the cover is excellent. 

The Italian split calfskin cover -- also called Dollaro split calfskin -- is stiffer, with a deep, printed grain. This is the go-to edition for those of you who prefer more structure in a cover. I love limp bindings, but as I've mentioned before, I can appreciate the desire for more rigidity. When I first started using my goatskin Pitt Minion, I was really disappointed by how stiff the cover was, and now it's pretty much perfect. Some of us want to break a Bible in.

I'm also happy about these covers (both the Allan version and the ones from Cambridge) because it's nice seeing calfskin making a comeback. A decade and a half ago, goatskin bindings were pretty rare. Most of the luxury editions were bound in calfskin. Over the last ten years, the pendulum swung and finding a calfsking-bound Bible became pretty hard. There are so many wonderful leathers available to bookbinders, so it's refreshing to see some variety.

As you can see below, the split calf edition is bound in the more traditional way, with the endpaper pasted down, overlapping the folded edge of the leather cover. 

As I mentioned in my paper test post, I was fortunate enough to be provided with an unbound, untrimmed text block from the Brevier wide margin print run. This gives me the opportunity to say a few things about the way fine books are made. When you hold the stack of unbound signatures in your hand, it's rather hard to imagine their finished form. They appear quite humble really:

When the sheets are printed, the black boxes you can see in the photo below include numbers to ensure that the individual signatures are arranged in order. Although these booklets are unsewn, the perforations have been made in the spine for needle and thread to follow. Once sewn, the page edges would be trimmed evenly before gilding. 

Here's an individual signature:

As you can see, it's a slender booklet. Every folded sheet contains four pages. In this bundle, there are eighteen sheets, a total of 72 pages. Looking at the unbound sheets, you'd think the margins are especially vast -- but as I mentioned, some of that white space will be trimmed away during the binding process.

I'm not as big a fan of maps in Bibles as I was during my often-bored childhood, when they helped releive the tedium of an over-long sermon. (Though I found myself daydreaming just as often about the conquests of Alexander as the missionary journeys of Paul.) Having the untrimmed maps from the Brevier is a real delight. The bars on the side help pressmen check that the color is correct.

On modern editions, this is what I like to see. The Jongbloed name always reassures me. They do consistently great work. 

Thanks to Allan's decision to produce both standard and wide margin editions of the Brevier Clarendon setting, readers can enjoy the benefits of a one-two combination. Use the smaller one for reading and carrying, the larger for study and teaching. The location of passages remains consistent between the two, facilitating an easy transition back and forth. Cambridge has been doing the same thing with their Pitt Minions and Wide Margins, and I love it.

(Note to Cambridge: A Clarion wide margin to go with the standard Clarion would make my day. In the immortal words of King Claudius: "Do it, England.")

The Breviers are thus aimed at the many readers who continue to use the KJV and prefer a classic Oxford two-column setting. They're nicely appointed and beautifully printed on good quality India paper. If you're a dedicated fan of the Authorized Version and you can't get on board with my love for single column settings, a brace of Breviers would suit you nicely!

Semi-Yapp

The best explanation I've read of the terms yapp and semi-yapp comes from R. L. Allan's Nicholas Gray, which you can read here: "Meaning of Yapp." Long story short, think of yapp as the edge of the cover. A semi-yapp cover will wrap around the page edges, while a full-yapp cover wraps even farther, to the point of touching or thereabout. Imagine an old-style zippered Bible minus the actual zip. Or better yet, just look at this picture:

Above: The R. L. Allan Compact Text Edition of the ESV, with semi-yapp edge.

There are two factors at work here: the extension of the cover, and the curve. A full- or semi-yapp cover is not simply one that extends out past the edge of the paper. It also curves around, as if to cup the book block in its leather embrace. The Bible in the photos, an R. L. Allan ESV Compact Text Edition, gets things just right. When executed well, a semi-yapp edge adds some Old World elegance to a Bible. 

When you compare the Bible to the hardback journal underneath, you can see how a semi-yapp cover delivers practical benefits. Not only does it feel nice in the hand, but it also offers protection to the gilded page edges. On a small Bible like this, I find it particuarlly attractive ... but in all honestly, I like semi-yapp in any size cover.

The downside? Some people find that the extra leather around the edge of the cover gets in the way when flipping pages. I haven't had much trouble in that regard -- but I don't often rush from text to text (on principle, not just because I'm slow). Your mileage may vary, so be advised.

"Opaque, Lightweight and Writeable?": Putting an Allan Brevier to the Test

Nicholas at R. L. Allan kindly provided me with a set of unbound signatures for the recent Allan Wide Margin Edition of Oxford's Brevier Clarendon KJV. I'll have more to say about the new Breviers shortly, but first I want to talk about the paper. The product description refers to "opaque, lightweight writeable India paper," and since we're sticklers for paper around here, I thought I'd put these words to the test. 

First, a teaching moment. In the photo above, you see the unbound signatures stacked up. This is what your Bible looks like inside, before it's stiched together, trimmed, gilded, and the cover is glued on. A signature is a folded booklet. In this case, there are eighteen sheets folded over. Each is printed with two pages on front and two on back, so that's a total of 72 pages. There are twenty-two signatures in the stack, for a total of 1,584 pages (not counting the map insert in back). There are 1,158 numbered pages in the OT and 348 in the NT -- 1,506 total -- plus front matter, back matter, and some blank note pages which we'll get to in a moment.

In typical book manufacture, you'll see signatures ranging in size from 16 to 32 pages. Paper thickness is the limiting factor. If you include too many sheets in the signature, it will be too fat and the fold will distort the way the print impressions overlap on successive pages. Thin Bible paper allows more pages to be folded over without bulk, so it's not uncommon to see signatures containing page counts in the 90s. 

The Brevier text blocks (both the wide margin and standard editions) were printed in the Netherlands by Jongbloed, where they were also bound, with upgraded cover specs. I don't know what type of paper this is, or its listed weight. But there's one surefire way to test a wide margin, and that's to write in it and see how the paper stands up to ink. For a really grueling test, nice, wet fountain pen ink is preferred.

File this under "do not attempt at home." Despite the fact that most of the Bibles you see here are review copies kindly provided by publishers, I am still reluctant to do any damage to them or mark them up in any way. Sure, it would be fun to know whether the goatskin cover on your Allan Bible could withstand a gunshot or a flamethrower (and naturally I do have a flamethrower handy next to my desk), and I could conduct these tests without harm to my bottom line ... but don't hold your breath. I prefer non-destructive methods of evaluation.

In this case, however, we're talking about an unbound text block. The liklihood that it will ever become a proper book is nil. Plus, there are pages in back marked NOTES, so I had an opportunity to do some testing without even scribbing on pages devoted to actual Scripture. With that in mind, I pulled out the pens.

Here's what happened:

From top to bottom, here's what you see. First we have the much-vaunted Pigma Micron pen -- unfortunately the one I had handy is orange, which didn't show up very well in the photo. Next is a fine-point rollerball and a ballpoint, which represent the sort of pens most people are likely to have handy. Then a series of fountain pens with nibs in various sizes: Extra Fine, Fine, Medium, a Flex, another Fine, another Flex and then a Broad. The respective inks were Montblanc Irish Green, Noodler's La Reine Mauve, Noodler's Ottoman Azure, Noodler's Nikita Red, Noodler's Bad Belted Kingfisher, Noodler's Black Swan in Australian Roses, and finally De Antramentis Plum (a scented ink; I'll let you guess the aroma). 

Convention wisdom would be, don't write in your Bible with a fountain pen. If you do, use a dry-writing EF or F nib (not too sharp, though). I'm no ink expert, but the two things that typically frustrate fountain pen users are "feathering," where the ink gets kind of runny and veiny as it spreads onto the paper, and "bleedthrough," where the ink actually soaks through the page and mars the other side. 

[A brief aside: When I first started writing about Bible paper, a lot of people used "bleedthrough" to describe the phenomenon where the words printed on one side of the sheet are clearly visible on the other, giving the page a gray five-o'clock-shadow appearance. I started using the word "ghosting" to describe this, since the problem wasn't that ink was bleeding through, just that the page wasn't sufficiently opaque to block the reverse image's visibility. I'm not sure where I picked up the term -- somewhere in my print/design journey. It's not original to me, at any rate.]

With all the inks I tested, I don't see any feathering on the page. The paper takes the ink well, and the lines look crisp. Now let's turn the page over and see whether anything has bled through:

None at all. You can clearly see the writing -- what I call "ghosting" above -- but that's actually quite common with thin papers, even the ones that take ink very well. For example, if you take a look at the enthralled fans of Tomoe River paper, which is used in the handmade Design.Y notebooks from Japan, at the same time they rave about the paper's phenomenon fountain pen performance, they concede that there's ghosting or "show-through," and that it's a fact of life with thin papers. (For the record, count me as an enthralled fan, too. A Design.Y LP Record notebook is on my birthday list, along with the Single Column Journaling Bible.)

The only exception I can think of to the "thin papers show through" rule is Smythson's blue featherweight paper, which has an almost miraculous ability to be both thin and opaque. Because fountain pen nibs don't need to dig into the paper like ballpoints, you won't even see the impression of the point on the reverse side. Of course, this paper comes at a high premium -- and even Smythson doesn't print the Bibles it occasionally offers on the blue stuff!

All this to say, the Allan Wide Margin Edition of the Brevier lives up to the description. The paper is lightweight and opaque, and it is also writeable. There is some ghosting, as you would expect, but it is not nearly as pronounced as you'll find in the typical Bible. I'd say this bodes well for the edition. We'll take a closer look in a coming post.