In volume 3 of Laurence Sterne’s The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman (1761), Tristram famously presents the reader with a marbled page to stand as ‘motley emblem of my work’: an image that, with its swirls and loops, defies interpretation, and also, crucially, is different in every book. Printing may offer the promise of duplication – of each copy in an edition being the same – but every hand-made marbled page in
Wondering if there are any written records of binder's responses to these sort of vexing demands made upon their skill and time? They were the economically abject members of 18th century letterpress ecology, and according to James Raven 'Very few were were able to afford election to the Company livery. The lives and careers of most are consigned to oblivion.'
Your point is well made. For all our interest in the "meta" nature of complex bibliographic assemblages, these remain objects of skilled hand-work by underpaid, anonymous artisans. Several generations of my own family worked as bookbinders and "pocket book makers" in Edinburgh, only stretching to a single-room apartment on South Bridge even in the late 1800s.
Wondering if there are any written records of binder's responses to these sort of vexing demands made upon their skill and time? They were the economically abject members of 18th century letterpress ecology, and according to James Raven 'Very few were were able to afford election to the Company livery. The lives and careers of most are consigned to oblivion.'
Your point is well made. For all our interest in the "meta" nature of complex bibliographic assemblages, these remain objects of skilled hand-work by underpaid, anonymous artisans. Several generations of my own family worked as bookbinders and "pocket book makers" in Edinburgh, only stretching to a single-room apartment on South Bridge even in the late 1800s.
Mike