About That Typeface: Three Books on Good (and Bad) Design

Ask a designer for the best book on typography and you’ll probably get a one-word answer:


It’s not that there aren’t other good ones out there, but this is where to begin. “Bringhurst” is short for The Elements of Typographic Style by Robert Bringhurst. I expected to like it, but I didn’t expect it to be so well written. Credit the man who studied philosophy, linguistics, and poetry, and who started a press in order to publish his own poetry chapbooks. Eventually he was hired to run a print shop in Vancouver, B.C., for Hartley & Marks.

This was the ’80s, and desktop publishing was just starting to take off. Bringhurst felt the sudden availability of digital fonts would overwhelm any inclination toward rational design and cause typographical chaos. He did what any perfectionist would do: write a book.

The Elements of Typographic Style is a guide to the history and artistry of letterforms. It’s not a book of rigid rules, and Bringhurst isn’t stuck in the past. He can explain why a font acts differently on the page and on the computer screen: “The underlying problem is that the screen mimics the sky instead of the earth,” he says. “It bombards the eye with light instead of waiting to repay the gift of vision.”

For me, Bringhurst is a gift every day. It shouldn’t be a surprise that the book is beautifully designed; the text is set in Minion Pro by Robert Slimbach, captions in Scala Sans by Martin Majoor. It’s a joy not only to read but to look at, but I sure hope I’m not looking the final edition. Hartley & Marks keeps it in print, but their list is down to two—this and a book on Japanese joinery.

Simon Garfield takes a lighter approach to typography in Just My Type. It’s fun and informative, written for the general reader and not as an antidote to chaos. In fact, it’s full of stories about fonts gone wrong (Comic Sans), font piracy (Baskerville rip-offs), and the origin of “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog” (a pangram, a phrase with all the letters of the alphabet).

Garfield dives deep into font history, too, and devotes a few chapters to some pervasive and perverse font families. I learned there’s science behind road sign typography, the best of which has been designed from the perspective of the driver.

I have to say, it’s odd to read a book about design that isn’t well designed. The main chapters are set in Sabon Lt Std, a fine serif font by Jan Tschichold, but it looks too big for the page. These are interspersed with “Font Breaks” set mostly in Univers 45 Light, a fine enough sans serif by Adrian Frutiger, and sprinkled with other fonts as examples. It takes good page design to make it all work.

For that, there’s Richard Hendel’s book, Aspects of Contemporary Book Design. This one is full of essays by and interviews with some top book and type designers who describe their projects in great detail with illustrations. Kent Lew describes how he designed the Whitman typeface, crediting a 1939 design called Caledonia by W. A. Dwiggins for inspiration, and comparing it to Joanna, a typeface designed by creepy genius Eric Gill.

All these designers let us in on their creative styles and processes. One of them is Abbey Gaterud, our own publisher of Ooligan Press and instructor of typography and book design. Abbey makes a clear case for book designers to understand the workflows for both print and digital. Beyond file compatibility, it’s about doing whatever you can to make digital files as stable as possible for the future.

The text for Aspects of Contemporary Book Designis set in Arnhem by Fred Smeijers with captions in Klavika by Eric Olson. Arnhem and Klavika are too recent to be included in Bringhurst. That’s why we’re going to need a new edition someday—to prevent all types of chaos.

Untangling the Design: Between the Pages of Ooligan’s LGBTQ Anthology

How do you unify a collection of essays by twenty-five different contributors (plus an introduction by the editor)? First, acquire pieces that fit the central theme of the anthology. Next, focus on bringing harmony to dissonant writing styles in the copyediting stage. Lastly, bring visual cohesion to the manuscript by establishing a uniform aesthetic. This step is the interior designer’s responsibility. Like the hours and hours spent by an acquisitions team and copyeditors, the time and energy an interior designer puts into a book isn’t glaringly apparent to most readers (unless the designer did poor work). If all three parties do their job, readers will give nary a thought to the process behind the book in their hands.


I recently completed the interior design of Untangling the Knot: Queer Voices on Marriage, Relationships & Identity, an anthology of LGBTQ essays edited by Carter Sickels that is coming out in February 2015. I’m excited for the release of this book for many reasons, one of them being that I designed a book that’s going to be on real bookstore shelves and read by real people(!). Another reason, of course, is that the book contains an amazing collection of essays collected and curated by Ooligan Press students. If you pick up a copy and don’t think twice about the interior design, then I will consider it a job well done. Allow me to go into detail about the details you may not notice.


Interior designers don’t start out with much. They are given a trim size, an approximate page count, and a copyedited version of the book’s content. If there are images in the book, the interior designer will get those as well. From there, many seemingly insignificant but very important decisions need to be made: What font will be used for chapter titles? What font will be used for the body text? How large should the margins be? Where should the page numbers go? How much leading is required for the text to be legible and readable? (Leading is the technical term for the amount of space between lines.) Each decision leads to a slew of new questions, much like chopping off the head of a hydra and seeing two more heads appear in its place. Once the font for the chapter titles is chosen, the designer needs to consider where the chapter title should be placed on a page, what font size should be used, and how much space there should be between the chapter title and the first paragraph. Decisions made at this stage are rarely definite; a designer will need to adjust many elements on a page for the text to fit nicely.


When designing Untangling the Knot, I aimed for a clean, simple look to compliment the lovely, minimalist cover designed by Stephanie Podmore. I used several weights of the Univers typeface (which is used on the cover) in the interior design to give the book a cohesive look from front to back. Since the contributors to this collection come from all over the gender spectrum, I chose Minion Pro, a font that doesn’t “read” as a particular gender, for the body text. From there, laying out the text was like playing Tetris with words. Once the interior was properly formatted, I checked to see that the white space between sections was consistent and I made small spacing modifications to lines and paragraphs of text so that everything would fit neatly on the page (known as adjusting the tracking and kerning). As soon as I get back the proofreaders’ notes and make the necessary changes, what I see on my computer screen will look just like what readers will see when they open up their copy of Untangling the Knot.