Aunt Book Expresses Righteous Indignation
  

In Which Aunt Book Waxes Wroth Concerning Bindings   

    Aunt Book has often wondered:  If technology is so spiffy, then why is it that the quality of book bindings is so much worse now than it has been in years gone by?

     In the past, books were quite literally sewn together.  In some cases, each "signature," or group of pages, was folded and sewn at the fold onto a cloth strip; each signature was sewn next to the previous one until all the pages were together.  In other cases (generally with thinner books), pages were stitched through from front page to back.  In the oldest books, strings were passed through the pages from front to back and tied into a loop over the spine; the strings caused the characteristic raised bands on the spines of old leather-bound books.

      The sewn pages were then put between boards (originally of wood, later of very sturdy cardboard) which were covered either with leather or with cloth.  The hinges (where the inside of the cover met the pages at the spine) were often reinforced with cloth, as well, before the endpapers were glued into place.  The cloth was strong and flexible.  If any pages did come loose, it was relatively easy to sew them back into place.

      The covers were often works of art:  stamped with patterns or pictures in gold and other colors, embossed, decorated with pasted-on pictures.  Aunt Book has, on occasion, bought a book which she had no real intention of reading, simply because the cover was so gorgeous.

      Library bindings, while often not as beautiful - or even, to put it bluntly, flat-out ugly - were even sturdier than the regular books.  The cloth coverings were thicker, rugged, water-resistant cloth, the pages more strongly sewn.  They could endure practically any treatment that could be dished out.  Aunt Book recalls reading once that, in the event of a
nuclear war, the only living creatures to survive would be cockroaches.  If that is true, Aunt Book envisions the cockroaches leaning back in comfortable chairs, reading old library-bound books, which would surely
also make it through quite nicely.

      And now?  What of books now?  Forgive Aunt Book for a moment while she dabs a lace-edged handkerchief daintily at the corners of her eyes, overcome with distress.  Then permit Aunt Book to introduce you to a concept with which you may not be familiar:  "perfect binding."  And permit Aunt Book also to indulge in an unladylike snort and a "Ha!  Perfect, my foot!"

     Perfect binding is the binding used in paperback books.  The pages of the book are stacked neatly so that the edges are even.  Glue is applied along one edge, and the spine of the paper cover is pressed against that glue.  Thus the only thing holding each page in place is a strip of glue as wide as the page is thick.  If the glue dries out, or if the book is read energetically a few times, pages start coming loose.  Aunt Book has had the experience of turning pages on relatively new paperbacks only to have the pages come loose in her hand.  It is almost impossible to mend such a book, because when one page is glued another pulls loose.

      Aunt Book is quite content that most paperbacks should be constructed that way.  They have their own uses:  they are relatively cheap, and easily portable.

      However, Aunt Book is most definitely not content that some paperbacks should masquerade as hardcovers.  In many instances, a book that looks like a hardcover, and so is assumed to be bound like one (that is, sewn), is in fact "perfect bound."  It is in essence a paperback book whose front and back covers happen to be hard.

      Aunt Book once mentioned this fact to a friend who makes a point of buying hardcover books and keeping them in pristine condition.   The friend checked her books, discovered that Aunt Book was correct, and pitched a conniption fit, outraged that publishers were charging many times what a paperback cost for a binding that was nearly identical to
paperback.

     Aunt Book also resents this.  She knows of one spectacularly popular series which is making a fortune for its author and publisher; and yet the publisher is not willing to go to the slight added expense of sewing the books rather than perfect binding them.  Since the books are very thick, the strain on the binding is considerable, with the result that pages start coming loose after only a few readings.  

      There are some honorable exceptions, and there are also some paperback books whose pages are sewn rather than simply glued into the covers.  One can only be sure by looking at the pages at the top of the spine or at the bottom, and seeing whether they are grouped into signatures or simply loose pages that have been glued.

      The covers of newer books are another problem.  Many of them, rather than being covered with cloth (and certainly rather than being covered with leather!) are covered only with paper, or at best with cloth at the spine and paper for the rest of the cover.  It does not require a stroke of genius to deduce that paper wears out more quickly than cloth does.

      As for finding beautiful embossing or printing on the covers, Aunt Book suggests that you not hold your breath.  Some books do have some slight decoration, but they blush with shame when put next to the glories of yesteryear.  Dust jackets, while often quite attractive, do not make up for the loss of decorated bindings.

      Yes, yes, Aunt Book has heard the defense that the poorer quality of newer books has to do with keeping the price of the books low enough for more people to afford, rather than having them restricted only to wealthier people; but if her Dear Nieces and Dear Nephews will pardon her for saying so, that is flapdoodle.  Edward Stratemeyer built an empire on selling inexpensive series books (such as the Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, the Bobbsey Twins, and many, many, many, many, many, many others) - books that, although inexpensive, were sturdier and of a better quality than many of today's hardcovers.  Companies rebind books for libraries, and yet the prices are not much higher than those of the publishers' bindings.

Aunt Book is seriously displeased, and trusts that the matter will be remedied.  Immediately.   

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