Finally...

Today I made the most challenging book yet--a deceptively simple-looking binding called the buttonhole stitch. 

When Jan came over before we walked tonight, I told her, "If I can make this, I can do anything."

She--generously--agreed.

This book has 12 signatures--that's 48 pages--of smooth Stonehenge paper, torn instead of cut to get the deckle-edges.  The cover was ridiculously difficult, but I love it so much I'll do it again.  It's made of thin Japanese paper laminated to a thicker paper, with a window in the spine.  

Tomorrow in the light, I'll take a picture of it.

Making books is, as I've said many times, good medicine, good therapy, and a wonderful way to get back in touch with myself after being away for a while.  It requires concentration and focus more than anything I've ever done before.  One simple mistake can throw off the whole thing. 

It's not a utilitarian project.  I have plenty of blank books.  It is, rather, an opportunity to learn a complex chain of individual skills in stitching and measuring and folding; choosing and ordering the right papers; bonding fabric to paper to make book cloth; and executing stitches I'd never heard of before before I signed up for the Handmade Book Club. 

Furthermore (and maybe it's just me), whether or not you ever intend to make a book, watching bookmakers' videos is fascinating.  Some are detailed tutorials, but there are also videos without words, usually just the hands of the maker whipping up magic with beautiful papers and threads.