Book Design: An Addiction

A Few Random Thoughts On Designing Books

Designing books is a long, slow process. It's complicated, frustrating, massively labor-intensive and it pays like shit. But, man, there's no better gig in graphic design. Book design is the gold standard. Watchmakers have the grand complication, climbers have the Himalayas, we've got books. If you're a print designer and you're in it for the challenge, books are it.

It took me a little while to get my first book design gig, but not for lack of desire. Back in Germany, I grew up surrounded by books. My parents had covered one entire wall of our living room with shelves that were soon bowing under the weight of books--literature, art catalogues, random compendia, encyclopedias; 18th century tomes bought for the beautiful leather binding or the copper etchings inside. Soon my room was completely taken over by my own growing collection. My father volunteered at an art museum in Hannover and brought home a steady stream of wonderfully designed catalogues. Books were pretty important around our house. I might catch some flack for spending money on clothes or gadgets---frivolous stuff---but books? No, books were always a wise investment. I couldn't wait to design my own. But it took a while.

Designing books doesn't seem to be something you do right out of school, unless you can find a job at a big firm that handles a lot of book assignments. (And if you do, you're a lucky punk and I hate you.)

Right out of school I thought that every assignment might be my last---surely, nobody would ever call me for a job again---so I'd better stuff every single idea in my head into this particular piece. That kind of desperate, frenetic energy works well for CDs or posters or club flyers, because it's fashion. It moves so fast that you have to put bells and whistles everywhere to stand out from the crowd. They're singles. Book designs are albums.

Designing books takes a certain relaxation. You have to put in enough ideas to hold somebody's interest over hundreds of pages, but you have to exercise restraint. Too much clever whiz-bangery and it'll get annoying after the first two chapters. Restraint comes from confidence that you'll have other chances to design again. Then you can ease yourself into the material and produce a confident piece that's strong, not loud, intelligent, not obnoxious. It took me quite a while to get there.

The first "book" I designed was the catalogue for AIGA/LA's Soundblast exhibit. I begged and bullied to get my hands on that design, but I got it and I had a brilliant time putting the thing together. I was hooked.

Out of all the jobs I've done book design is the most taxing, if only for the sheer scope, but it's the most satisfying work for the same reason. Sure, there is the challenge of expressing your ideas in a punchy logo or in a strong, simple poster, but it's nothing compared to the mad complexity of a book---creating hundreds of attractive spreads that must work on their own and as part of the narrative, building an overall experience, making the book an art object that can survive multiple viewings. And let's not forget
the brute, mind numbing labor of adjusting every line to form perfect rags on every page. Once you've designed books, everything else seems easy.

And it's addictive. You can't just design one book, you've got to design another one after that, and another one after that, if only to play out all the ideas that didn't fit in the last one, or to fix all your earlier mistakes. Why does Lance Armstrong keep racing in the Tour de France? Because once you've won the Tour de France, what else is there to do but win it again? And so it is with books. They've spoiled me. Anything easier now feels like I'm coasting. Dammit! I guess I'll have to rest up and start another book soon. Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in. (Excellent!)

-Stefan Bucher has been spreading the gospel of 344 Design since 1998. He will be featured as a panelist at Open Book: The True Story of Book Design at PMCA on June 30.