Typefounder's hand mould
 

There are days like that when you get up in the morning simply because you have to get up… So you get up, gloomy, thinking to yourself: “Ah! Another new day to get through…” and you set about living it, somewhat reluctantly and under duress. But nothing turns out the way you expected. The day you thought would be long, sad, and boring actually turns out to be filled with joy, wonders, and discoveries. That’s how it is—you can’t stay in the doldrums forever.

It was the contents of the mailbox that changed everything. I wasn’t expecting anything, and in fact I was half expecting a letter bearing bad news from the tax authorities or some energy provider. But instead, there was a large, beautifully made package from—oh, the surprise!—the United States. It was such a beautifully put-together package that it took me quite some time to open it, which only served to heighten the adrenaline and, consequently, the joy of discovering what was inside.

Intense joy… indeed.

What was in the package? A book. But not just any book. An important book. A landmark book. A definitive work on its subject: the typefounder's hand mould. Those moulds, as you know, were used to cast type before automatic typecasting machines were invented in the nineteenth century, followed by typesetting machines; long before the twentieth century brought us phototypesetting, and later the computerised typesetting we still use today. Without type moulds, there could have been no large-scale reproduction of the written word from Gutenberg to the dawn of mechanical typesetting.

So a type mould is no small thing. It is a cultural artifact in every sense of the word. It made the mass reproduction of writing possible; and in itself—in the way it was made, and in the way it evolved over the centuries—it stands as a remarkable expression of technological culture.

Cover.

The author of this book, Stan Nelson, is quite simply the world’s foremost authority on the subject, universally recognised as such. The book is the fruit of a lifetime of research, carried out in every country where movable-type printing has existed since the middle of the fifteenth century.

In other words, it is an indispensable book for anyone interested in traditional printing, in books, and in the technology that made them possible. As Bela, a Congolese author I published back in the last century, used to say: “It's good the Book!” And this one is not merely lavishly illustrated—it is lavishly illustrated in colour, if you please! It is a work of historical and technological scholarship that will be very hard to surpass. One might perhaps write another book on the subject after this one, but certainly not a better or more comprehensive one.

But… I can already hear the grumbling, buzzing away in my ears here and there… Grumbling, after all, is one of our great French national characteristics, a trait we are famous for the world over. We French are always grumbling.
—The book you’re talking about—it’s from the United States, isn’t it?
—Well, yes…
—So it’s in English…
—Well, yes…
—Yes, but we speak French here in France…
—Well, yes… but there’s nothing to stop us speaking English too, reading it, and understanding it. That’s part of being educated, isn’t it? And besides, the pictures are written in “picture”—a universal language. When you come across a book like Stan Nelson’s, you don’t sit around waiting for some hypothetical French translation that will probably never appear.
—Oh really? And why not?
—Because France, so proud of its famous cultural exception, has largely lost interest in traditional technologies—unlike the countries around us. And the little community of people who still care about such things is simply too small for anyone to contemplate publishing a French edition.
So, you lot: if the subject interests you, read the book in English! For heaven’s sake! And talk about it to everyone you know. That way, perhaps, we’ll make this little community of enthusiasts a little less little…
—But you can’t get the book in France…
—I don’t know about that, but you can always order it. Come on, I’ll scan the back of the dust jacket for you. All the information you need will be right there. See how kind I am to you?

Back cover.

—But why did you get it in the mail? Did you order it?
—No. He was kind enough to send me a copy when it was published because I had given him some photographs of a mould that he discusses in the book. A few years ago, I had written a fairly substantial article about that particular mould, but it was never published because the journal it was intended for never saw the light of day.
—So you got the book for free…
—Well, yes…
—You lucky devil.
—Well, yes… You have to have a few little joys in life now and then—or some really big ones—that give you a reason to get out of bed in the morning…

Catalogue de papiers de couverture
 

Une trouvaille lors de la brocante d’hier. La seule de la journée, pas vraiment ruineuse : 2 €, pourquoi se priver ! Ce spécimen de papiers de couverture date sans nul doute des années 1910-1920, période Art nouveau, si l’on en croit les illustrations utilisées. Comme on aime bien cette période des arts graphiques et qu’on ne vous déteste pas non plus, on vous le reproduit en entier, ce catalogue. Z’avez intérêt à apprécier.

La prise de vue un peu trop rapidement réalisée frise l’innommable et le catastrophique. Il vous faudra pourtant vous en contenter. On n’a pas pu faire mieux. On a collé le catalogue sous une plaque de verre pour le raplaplater mais ça a causé des images parasites par réflexion du photographe sur le verre. De plus, on ne sais plus où on a fourré le statif de reproduction qui nous aurait permis d’obtenir des pages rectangulaires ; on a fait la prise de vue à l’arrache…
— Eh, banane ! pourquoi tu ne l’as pas scanné, ton catalogue ?…
— Parce que le catalogue dépassait de la vitre du scanner, pomme à l’eau !

Euh, si on passait aux images après cet échange de fruits et légumes…

Couverture.

Pages 2 et 3.

Pages 4 et 5.

Pages 6 et 7.

Pages 8 et 9.

Pages 10 et 11.

Pages 12 et 13.

Pages 14 et 15.

Pages 16 et 17.

Pages 18 et 19.

Pages 20 et 21.

Pages 22 et 23.

Pages 24 et 25.

Page 26.

Voilà… Plein de jolies couleurs de papier et de jolies couleurs d’encre… à la semaine prochaine pour — peut-être — de nouvelles nouvelles…