The Surface of Meaning: Books and Book Design in Canada
Robert Bringhurst
Vancouver: Canadian Centre for Studies in Publishing (SFU), 2008
In 2003 the Alcuin Society undertook a much needed overhaul of their annual book design awards catalogue, and from a rather poorly designed, saddle-stitched booklet, an aesthetically sophisticated, well-printed and nicely bound volume came into existence. For a novice designer like myself at the time, the catalogue provided an essential showcase for the sort of thing that most folks, even book folks, are hardly aware of: book design in Canada. And for those as eager as I was to see good contemporary work in book design – if for no other reason than to prove that such work existed – the Alcuin catalogue was a yearly gift. In a format suitable to its subject, and in some cases with commentary by the awards’ judges, the craft and talent of this country’s finest book makers was made available to examine. The problem was you had to know about the awards, not to mention the Alcuin Society itself.
In The Surface of Meaning: Books and Book Design in Canada, Robert Bringhurst discusses the lack of a substantial examination of the subject, the rich history of Canadian typographic design, and some of the current work being done in the field – a landscape far more lush and rich than one might expect from a survey of the sad, uninspired products so often found on the shelves of whatever big box store is hocking books these days. And while providing, at last, a broad and vivid history of Canadian book design over the past century, The Surface of Meaning also speaks to the cultural and artistic heritage and impact of an activity that has been carried on, most often, out of the spotlight by folks who are, luckily, not expecting much attention.
This book begins, as one might expect, with ample introductory notes on typography and book design generally, followed by a note on the author’s intention to focus, at some length, on the first “Canadian” books: that is, books produced in Canada, with types cast in Canada, and made up of Canadian content. These books, primarily written by missionaries and produced both as cultural-anthropological studies of native cultures as well as religious texts translated into various native languages, comprise not only an integral chapter in the history of the book in Canada, but also a compelling narrative of the development of type and typography at the turn of the last century. While the breadth of this discussion, at the front end of the book, can feel somewhat daunting – Bringhurst is, after all, a scholar and linguist, with a sincere and massively impressive knowledge and experience in this area – the examination of these early Canadian books speaks to the impact and vitality of typography and letterforms, serving as both an historical study and a fine introduction to the larger subject of the book, providing context both material and aesthetic as the reader moves on to more contemporary and visually dynamic examples and commentary.
Once into the showcase proper, Bringhurst’s selections are, predominantly, from university and private presses, ranging from the mid-century projects of McClelland & Stewart and the University of Toronto Press, to the Pharos Press of Robin Skelton and the various presses of Robert Reid and Takao Tanabe. This mid-twentieth-century gallery is followed by a further introduction to that period’s typographic scene, eventually leading to a discussion of the major contemporary players behind the design of Douglas & McIntyre, UBC, and the University of Alberta Press. Due attention is given to the current cast of private press printers including Jim Rimmer, Lucie Lambert, and Jan and Crispin Elsted, and a special focus is placed on what Bringhurst suggests is a curiously Canadian sub-category of publishing: the semi-private trade concerns of Coach House, Anansi and Gaspereau.
The book concludes with a complete listing of Alcuin Award winners – giving titles, publishers, authors and designers – from 1981 to 2006 (the more recent winners, for 2007 and 2008, can be found on the Alcuin Society’s web page), as well as a very well-stocked bibliography for those craving more after this already generous feast.
The book itself, designed by Bringhurst, is a fine example of its subject: like a well-built home, the page design is simple and clean, the structure square and plumb, and the finishing work done with a keen eye to detail. And like a well-planned home, ornamentation in construction is kept to a minimum (a handful of enlarged typographic elements), reserving the place of decoration for the art on the walls, or, in this case, the fine photographs of the books on display. Printed full-colour throughout, with the images surface-coated after printing to add lustre and vibrancy to the reproductions, the typography does just what it should: its job, quietly, with sophistication and clarity.
As the author himself regrettably concedes, there are dozens of additional designers, printers and publishers that should be showcased in The Surface of Meaning – I think, immediately, of the impressive work of Rollin Milroy at Heavenly Monkey – but this book, as any, can only hold so much. While not comprehensive, Bringhurst’s selections are as one would expect from a typographer and designer thoroughly integrated into Canada’s bibliophilia, not to mention the author of the book on typography: The Elements of Typographic Style. From such a source, The Surface of Meaning is not only a well-developed, written and designed codex, it is a welcome, informative, and thought-provoking survey that will likely find many standing before their own shelves with a new sense of discovery.
Tags: Issue 77