Anatomy of a book:

1. The head, spine and tail. Essentially the top part of the book, the bottom and the spine. The head and tail will occasionally have a headband attached to them, a decorative strip of wrapped string. Between the spine and the book cover there is the joint on the outside or the hinge on the inside. The edge of the book that is neither the spine nor the tail is the fore-edge.
2.  The text block or book block. This is composed of leaves (a leaf is a sheet of paper a.i. two pages), which are organized and folded in groups, which are called signatures.
3.  The cover is made from book board and wraps around the text block to protect it. Usually it has a front and a back.
4. End papers are the first and last pages of the book and are glued straight to the cover and text block. These are sometimes texture or decorative.
5.  The dust jacket is a protective covering for a book to wrap around the cover made of book board.
6.  Raised bands are stripes on the spine of the book which used to be the result of the book’s construction. However, they are no longer necessary today, and if used, are purely decorative.

A book’s structure must reflect its function. For example:

A book for small children (ages 3-5) would need to be sturdy in order to survive rough play and it would need to be glossy in case of accidents with liquids.

Books that are meant to be carried in one’s pocket, such as small books of poetry, would require a light, but sturdy cover to protect the pages but not create too much weight.

Coffee table books should be large and with attractive structure and pages. The photographs in coffee table books might look best (depending on genera) on glossy paper.

A light novel can be soft-covered and of a size easily carried in a bag.

A re-print of a classic book can sport a hard cover and raised bands on the spine to evoke an old-fashioned aesthetic.

The end papers in a children’s book can have a playful design.

1. The novel

This book is a perfect-bound paperback. The sewn signatures are glued securely to the paperback cover. The paper is thin and tinted instead of pure white.

2. The coffee-table book

The book block is stitched and is not directly glued to the spine of the cover. The paper is fairly thick and glossy. Glossy paper is preferable for printing out accurate colors, which is an important factor when printing out a book about art.

3. The comic re-print

The book block is stitched, and is glued to the spine of the cover. This paper is also thick and glossy for the same reason the previous book had glossy paper, the colors.

4. The self-help book

This is also bound with stitching, and the spine of the book block does not attach to the hardcover. The paper is thin and not pure white. The first page of each chapters is black.

5. The drawing anatomy book

The anatomy book has a hard cover, and is bound with stitching. It is so large that the spine doesn’t really budge when opening it, but the spine of the book block is not glued to the cover as far as I can tell. The pages are white and somewhat thick, but not glossy.

6. The school book

This is a paperback book, bound with stiches and perfect bound/ glued to the cover. The pages are thin and off-white, possibly recycled if the tiny black dots on them are any indication.

To explore paper, I collected types of paper that I already owned some types I bought from a local shop. I looked for various weights, textures, colors and degrees of opacity. Truthfully, I don’t think any of this research would do much good in regard to understanding paper used for most regular books, since most of these papers were of the artistic sort. (I am somewhat stumped as to where people would sell paper used in book printing in my area.)  I am happy to say, however, that this experiment was not a total loss. Testing out types of paper with various artistic supplies has helped me find out new things about paper I don’t usually use. While I’m not sure this would help me as a book designer (unless I create a book as an artistic object) it certainly will in my artistic endeavors as an illustrator.

I selected about ten different kinds of paper, depending on how one counts, and bound them together with a Coptic binding. I chose to create a cover for this haphazard kind-of-sketchbook, since this way I can keep adding pages later.

Bound Pages

After the binding was complete, I started experimenting with them and observing their properties. Ironically, the very first type of paper is not really paper at all. It did come in a sketchbook as a single leaf, however this sheet of “paper” is in fact canvas, and therefore a woven fabric rather than ground up and compressed wood pulp. The fabric has been gessoed with some sort of acrylic white paint, and therefore has a slightly plasticky feel to the touch. I am certain that it is real canvas and not just textured paper because if I pull enough at the edges, it starts to fray. Perhaps it is a good first step in analyzing paper, because I can firstly deduce what paper is  not. Paper is not woven. Paper is made of cellulose fibers from plants mixed with water. They bind and then they dry, creating paper. Paper is also much more porous, unlike acrylic covered canvas. Which means that it absorbs pigment whereas pigment on canvas is simply laid on top.

The second page is of real paper, drawing paper in fact. It is smooth in grain and thicker than writing paper. Thick enough that it doesn’t wrinkle when using watercolors but not thick enough for them to be layered too many times. It doesn’t feather when I use India ink on it. These factors make it a very versatile paper, which is why it is my preferred paper for making my sketchbooks. I bought it in large 100 cm x 70 cm sheets.

Next comes a sheet of colored paper. It’s rather thin and therefore is useless for things like markers and watercolors. Ink is fine, but it feathers just slightly. Not enough to be unsightly just slightly fuzzy to my practiced eye. It is about the thickness of printer paper and also has the same texture.

I have experimented with two types of tracing paper. Tracing paper is also made from cellulose, except it has been compressed until all the air pockets disappeared, leaving it transparent. Obviously, neither reacted well to water, they both sort of bunched up around the area where watercolor was applied. But both reacted wonderfully to marker. Far better than all the other types of paper, especially the thicker one. The fact that the paper did not absorb the marker (because of the lack of air pockets) meant that the marker ink sort of sat on top of the paper before drying completely, creating a uniform finish without any marker streaks. On the thicker paper, I could even play around with the pigment, creating a watercolor-like effect. This interested me, because I have owned alcohol based markers for years and haven’t really enjoyed using them. This discovery lead me to experiment further, so I created a simple black and white portrait on one of the other pages of tracing paper, with promising results.

I also had two types of thicker colored paper, one of which was black. The black paper had some limitations as to color, but it offered interesting effects when using white pencils, or chalk markers (which I have come to discover will draw on anything and never bleed). I also used these papers to try the tear test for finding out the direction of the grain. Frankly, before this I had always thought I was just bad at tearing paper in straight lines. Turns out it’s possible to tear paper the wrong way. Who knew? On some of these papers, the ones with a more textured surface, one can sort of see the direction of the grain, but it’s interesting to know you can find it on smooth paper by taring it. I’ve noticed that the grain on the A4 papers I had tended to run vertically (if held up in a portrait position as opposed to landscape).

I use two types of shiny paper. Or if I were to use the right terms polished/super-calendared paper.  They both had high ink holdout (they didn’t feather) which I expected because of the reading material. Now I know why even in books which are mostly out of matte paper, the pages with photographs or illustrations tend to be glossy. The pigment in the ink cannot penetrate the finish of the paper, giving it a more vibrant hue. The same thing happened when I drew on my own paper with markers.

Printer Paper was included in this little experiment, for a control group if nothing else. I am far too familiar with it to have found out something new that wasn’t obvious. It absorbs ink well, but doesn’t feather overmuch. Just as its purpose entails. It reacts horribly to watercolor, but I suspect the scientists who thought up the precise recipe for this paper never made it to be durable when attacked with a paintbrush.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, the thick, colored and very textured cardstock reacted very nicely to the watercolor. I don’t think I would replace it with real watercolor paper just yet, since it absorbs too little of the color, and thus it is best if there isn’t too much layering involved lest the previous layer be erased while applying the new one. But nice, simple painting can be achieved, as I demonstrated with a little still life on one side of the page. The paper is only textured  on one side, though colored on both and the grain can clearly be seen without the need to tear. Despite the texture, the India ink looked surprisingly nice.

The only paper that does not seem to have been treated much is the thin drawing paper. It is fairly thin, not overly smooth, and has a greige tint to it. The color doesn’t look like dye, rather it looks unbleached. All these characteristics make it a wonderful sketching paper, as it’s easy on the eyes and the slight tooth makes pencil take wonderfully to it. But it doesn’t like any inks. They are all absorbed and dispersed instantly, leaving a feathery look and marks on the other side.

The last paper I experimented with was a thin, tinted and glittery one. Not too obviously glittery, just enough to show in the light, and like the card stock, it was done on one side but not the other. I wonder if they do this to cut costs when making them. It seems like the most likely explanation. The paper itself is simple and brown, almost like packing paper, and it took to the markers interestingly. The paper wasn’t shiny, but the marks were surprisingly lacking in streaks. Though more so on the side that was sparkly than on the side that was not. Which makes sense since the shiny side has an extra layer between the ink and the paper.

Scribbled Pages

I learned a lot about paper, and it was interesting to be hands on about it while dong the reading. Like learning about the grain of the paper and how to find it and then tearing some pages to do so. And like learning about the fact that shinier pages mean more colorful pigments because they don’t absorb it. I even found a new way to put this into practice and use my long-unused markers. I have used them on shiny paper before, and they did not have quite the same effect as when I used them on tracing paper. Something I might try out again.

Phil Baines

Polo, M. (2005). Travels in the Land of Kublai Kahn. London: Penguin books Ltd.

Aurelius M. (2004). Meditations. Baltimore: Penguin Books Ltd.

Hume D. (2005). On Suicide. London: Penguin Books Ltd.

Phil Baines’s approach to typography is different from the others in this list because he creates a composition out of the type. Though technically incorrect in some places (using letters twice in Kublai Khan), he uses lettering to evoke the theme of the book and to create an interesting composition (like on Meditations).

Coralie Bickford-Smith

Bickford-Smith C. (2017). The Worm and the Bird. London: Penguin books Ltd.

It’s interesting to note Coralie’s approach to designing the Edgar Allan Poe book in comparison with Suzanne Dean’s  Life and Fate. They are both reprints of classic tales by famous authors and they both have a colorful palette. However, Dean’s choice to include some motifs and colors reminiscent of Russian designs makes a straightforward sort of sense, while Coralie’s choice to use a rather colorful palette on a book about murder is an interesting switch. Especially since it isn’t immediately obvious that the pattern on the cover is of switchblades. The design of the Poe book is definitely not cheerful enough to be misleading, but it is a fresh design choice that grabbed my attention.

Derek Birdsall

Roach Jack, L. (1972). Poverty; selected readings. London: Penguin books Ltd.

Dalton, G. (1974) Economic Systems and Society: Capitalism, Communism and the Third World.  Penguin Books Ltd.

Hutt, C. (1973) Males and Females. Penguin Books Ltd.

Kelly Blair

Grossman D. (2011). Falling Out of Time. Vintage.

Irma Boom

Hicks S. (2006). Sheila Hicks: Weaving as a Metaphor. Yale University Press.

Boom’s books are truly unique, it is no wonder she is called “The Queen of Books”. She completely reimagines the book’s anatomy to suit the subject, but she also goes completely out of the box and creates not just books, but art objects. Julia Hastings also has some interesting bindings used for her books like the book about Japanese design bound with Japanese binding instead of the type of binding we’re used to in the west. However, Boom takes things to whole different level with books like the Chanel:Limited Edition, wherein she printed the book with no ink whatsoever. Instead of ink the pages have been embossed, in the idea that the reader should use different senses to explore the book like when they should use their sense of smell when experiencing the perfume.

Suzanne Dean

Woolf V. (2016). To the Lighthouse. Vintage.

Julia Hastings

Grossman V. (2017). Life and Fate. Vintage.

Linda Huang

Adhiambo  Owuor Y. (2019). The Dragonfly Sea. Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group.

Jost Huchuli

Turel A. (1965). Shakespeare. Tschudy.

Zollinger A.  (1965) Fluch der Schiedung. Tschudy.

Ellen Lupton

Lupton E. (2010). Thinking with Type: A Critical Guide for Designers, Writers, Editors, & Students. Princeton Architectural Press.

Peter Mendelsund

Sedaris D. (2005). Dress Your Family in Corduroy & Denim. Back Bay Books.

Paul Rand

Stravinsky I. (1956). Poetics of Music in the form of six lessons. New York: Vintage.

Paula Scher

Jan Tschichold

Wolfgang Weingart

“Kunstkredit Basel 1976/77” Worldformat poster for Kunsthalle Basel

I was especially drawn to Coralie Bickford-Smith, Peter Mendelsund, and Phil Baines as designers.

Coralie Bickford-Smith

Coralie Bickford-Smith is a book designer for Penguin Books and she is famous for her Clothebound Classics, which hearken to the type of binding used in Victorian times. She studied typography at Reading University and lives in London. She loves patterns, as can be seen in many of her designs. She is inspired by artists like William Blake and William Morris.

Peter Mendelsund

Peter Mendelsund’s design work is unique, in fact the  Wall Street Journal has called it “the most instantly recognizable and iconic in contemporary fiction”.  The way I best describe it is “..What?” value. Not necessarily shock value, but related. It’s more like the covers have something strange enough on them that I can’t help but pause and ask “…What?”. They also tend to be witty or amusing in some way.

Perhaps the first sentence in the “About” section on his website could give an approximation of what it’s like to look at a cover of his. “Peter Mendelsund has worked as a dishwasher, a bookseller, a butler, a classical pianist, chicken farmer, teacher, cover designer, commercial composer, branding consultant, writer, housepainter, and is currently the creative director of The Atlantic.”

Phil Baines

Phil Baines is currently a Graphic designer & Professor of Typography at UAL. In 1985, he graduated from St Martin’s School of Art and in 1987 from the Royal College of Art.

Baines’ earliest fascination was with early typography and medieval manuscripts, and this still shows in his work today. He works almost exclusively in print and loves the do-it-yourself aspects of the letterpress.  Much of his work is for small arts organizations, but he also does design work like his collaboration with Penguin Classics.

The next three designers I have chosen to analyze are children’s book illustrators and designers exclusively, since this is a area I am very interested in. Children’s books are also innately more versatile in the way they are designed in shape and binding. Peter Brown, Anna Kövecses, and Maurice Sendak.

 Peter Brown

Peter Brown’s work is unconventionally fun. He tends to use subjects that are just a little spooky or a little odd, and his color palettes tend to be muted when comparing with the usual straight-from-the-tube colors usually seen in children’s books, but the characters and stories are charming and the illustrations are wonderful.

Some of his covers take direct inspiration from classic horror aesthetic and pulp fiction covers. An interesting choice for a children’s illustrator, but undoubtedly effective. It just goes to show that one can take inspiration from anywhere.

Anna Kövecses

Anna’s work is minimalistic and collage-like with a hint of Hungarian folk design (especially noticeable in her color choices and in the way she draws animals). The digital collage work in the Alphabet book is beautifully simple. The spreads are large, airy and balanced while also having a hint of texture in the digital collage work that adds just the little bit of needed interest in the minimalistic flat colors.

Maurice Sendak

Maurice Sendak is perhaps the most influential children’s illustrator of the 20th century. Where the Wild Things Are is perhaps Maurice Sendak’s most well-known book. It’s subversiveness and it’s quality made it the most popular children’s book of its time until today. Even then they knew it would be a touchstone in the history of children’s illustration. And it is also a very good representation of his style and approach. Some of his books have been considered inappropriate or dark, but these are the books that he thought “work as works of art.” He has been know to say that he doesn’t write children’s books and doesn’t know how to. He simply creates art that he thinks is important.

The purpose of this exercise is to learn to generate different sorts of covers for the same book. But before doing that, I will analyze various versions of  The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood) covers that have been printed over the years. This research was done online and therefore I had a very hard time finding the designers, unfortunately.

Atwood, M. (1985). The Handmaid’s Tale. McClelland and Stuart.

The purpose of this exercise is to learn to generate different sorts of covers for the same book. But before doing that, I will analyze various versions of  The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood) covers that have been printed over the years. This research was done online and therefore I had a very hard time finding the designers, unfortunately.

The constants across these covers are the color red and the appearance of the handmaid, whether entirely or in part. As far as I understand the red frock the handmaid from the story wears is significant to the position she holds in the dystopian society she is a part of, and therefore it is an important element to include in on the cover. There are only two covers that show her face (the original cover and one of the newest do, but her eyes are lowered) and this I think it might also be significant to the character. The 1993 cover takes things even further by showing only her bare feet on the bed and the hem of her dress.

The original cover is interesting in the way it chose to convey the message of the book with its illustration. The story takes place in a world where disaster has struck, and people try to desperately reach for a better future by looking at the past. The problem is that the ideas that formed that past were either distorted originally or they became distorted when the people of the present tried to fit them in the funnel of their own vision. Thus creating a present that tries to mimic the glory of the past, but fails spectacularly. The illustration on the cover mimics Christian religious art, however instead of the Virgin Mary holding Jesus, we see a man with a distorted face (almost Picasso-esque) holding a caricature that combines the form of a baby and the head of a grown woman, the handmaiden.

But while the original cover is extremely clever and  interesting when analyzed, visually I think the best looking is the 2019 one by Insights. It’s simple, but it’s impactful, and it’s easy to spot from very far away. I like the silhouettes and the dark red frocks over a lighter red background, the highest contrast being the white caps, which don’t show the handmaiden’s faces.

My least favorite covers must be the ones with the photographs. But it is very rare when I do like a book cover with a photograph (in fiction books). The thing that bothers me the most about the  2011 one is the text over the photograph. It all looks very busy, and not in a good way.

Using these designs as reference, I started making my own versions of the cover. The main three elements to move around on the page were the title, the author, and an illustration (either the cap of the handmaid or the silhouette of the handmaid.) For the first designs I omitted the illustration and kept things simple with just text, color and/or some decorative elements. I kept in mind some of the things I observed in the cover designs from the previous exercise. Things such as the placement of the title, or the use of strips of color to separate the author from the background, or like the use of repeated frames within frames with the title and author at the middle.

Then, I also started playing around with more interesting fonts, some I kept modern and clean while others were either old-fashioned (playing into the idea of the dystopia-as-an-idealized-past) or alternatively textured and grungy (plain playing into the idea of dystopia). Of course, I also had to add the bonnet and the silhouette, since they have become so iconic. I suppose a cover without them  could be accomplished sucessfuly, but the design instantly benefits from having an element from the story depicted on it.

The results are not half bad in the latter variations of the cover, and it was quite fun making them. If a bit frustrating. As an illustrator, I understand the concept of composition, and of leading the eye, but every single time I sit down to design something rather than illustrate I find myself stumped and floundering. When text is involved it’s even harder. I think it’s mostly to do with my lack of reference as to what flattering proportions look like in good design. Or rather, how to create them in a blank space, since I’m sure anyone can recognize good design when they see it.