Annotations

Illustrated books or books with videos?

I am very fortunate to be able to design and produce wonderful illustrated books on painting, sculpture, photography, decorative arts, and architecture for museums as well as university and commercial publishers. I also take great pleasure in perusing a thoughtfully designed book-with-pictures, appreciating the pacing and rhythm of its layout and how text and art refer to and enhance each other.

In my work I strive to provide the viewer with text that is both easy to read and scan for specific information, as well as presenting pictures that one can scan with ease; taking in its surface or boundaries or finding its compositional (or metaphoric) focus.

Of course, all this suggests my preference for holding a book in my hands, scanning spreads from left to right, and turning pages. This experience may be destined for obsolescence, and at Vern Associates we are cautiously adapting our work to accommodate the insistent shift from print-on-paper to digital books.

One seldom visits a site or reads a blog that doesn't supplement its text with video. This is what most people have come to expect from an interactive medium, and video can convey a great deal of information effectively and persuasively. It is a boon for those looking for information on how to do something, because you can watch someone demonstrate the task. I'm more skeptical of sites that combine text with talking heads who instruct, coach, sell, or what have you.

I recently visited two publishing sites that sell hybrid book-and-video titles and found that they to relate to each other in unexpected ways.

Vook is a web-based application that partners with magazine and book publishers to produce highly interactive digital books that you can access on PCs, digital readers, or mobile phones. These vooks include both text and video, along with links to social media sites. Some titles, such as those about cooking and fitness are a good fit for this format. Fiction titles often include dramatized versions of the story, alongside the text. Another discovery was the children's and Y-A author Patrick Carman's Skeleton Creek series (Scholastic). Carman wrote an interesting piece in Publisher's Weekly about his successful series that gets kids really interested in reading.

These stories are presented as text followed by video and so on. This video carrot works really well in making the written word much less of a stick. In the Skeleton Creek books, kids must finish reading before they get to the movie. I don't think that would fly with customers downloading novels from Vook.

The voices in my head

I've never mentioned this to anyone—nor had reason to, until now—but when I read, I "hear" the words in my own voice. My voice is modulated depending on the topic. It is very nondescript when I am calculating figures in a math text, and can get quite dramatic for fiction, a higher pitch for female characters, an appropriate accent for English or French or Bostonian characters. It seems to me that these sounds become an integral part of how I comprehend the written word, make it part of my memory, and classify its value. More important, my internal voice is my first step to visualizing the images and situation being described. I'd like to think that other people share this experience while reading. If not, they must have other means of processing words and internalizing stories. I don't understand how the same degree of comprehension is possible from watching a scripted, filmed, and edited version of that same story, but would love to know if other people share my opinion.

The Dolly Levi of Book Producers: Finding the Right Writer

While Vern Associates seldom hires a writer, we frequently are called upon to recommend one (or more) to a client. Briefly, this process calls for us to review our author database in search of writers with appropriate background and experience for the job at hand. We may also launch into further research to find additional candidates to fit the bill. We compile dossiers of text samples and CVs, prepare a précis of our selection to spell out strengths—perhaps weaknesses—of the exemplars, then pass all this information along to our client. Once they have reviewed the material, we confer with them to help choose just the right writer for the publication.

Pretty straightforward, isn't it? Actually, no. Each step entails its own peculiar balancing act. If only it were as simple as matching writer with subject. Instead, at each juncture we must negotiate the twists and turns that typically intervene. Up to a point, you could compare what we do to the work of a matchmaker of yore. Dolly Levi had to sense the presence of a "chemistry" that would propel a couple into matrimony. Our kind of matchmaking may not be geared toward such a long-lasting pairing, but at least one of the partners (our client) had better be completely at ease with their new, albeit temporary, mate. So let's look at the considerations we face.

First, selecting candidates from our writer database can be a tricky game of maybe-yes/maybe-no. Even though this resource is searchable by subject area, that's only one of the parameters we need to match. Every publication (and/or client) dictates its own peculiar set of writing qualities. For example, Art Book A may be pitched to readers who demand a refined prose style, while Corporate History B may be better suited to writing that features a just-the-facts concision. I recall a project that called for both a fair amount of polish and wide-based research. We had just the person for the former, but her portfolio held nothing that demonstrated what she could do in terms of in-depth research. On top of that, subject-wise all her samples were diametrically opposed to that of the manuscript-to-be. What to do? Present this writer's clips, explain why we consider her a good fit, and hope our client will see our point (rather than wonder if we really "got" the project)? Or pass her over for another writer with subject expertise and research abilities whose lack of literary flair was likely to entail significant editorial intervention?

The Internet has made finding potential writers infinitely easier than it was a few years ago. But the "embarrassment of riches" it offers is exceedingly complex and time consuming to navigate. Locating candidates with suitable credentials is the easy part; then the vetting begins. Have they ever written—can they handle—book-length manuscripts? Someone with dozens of magazine and journal articles to his or her credit may not possess the organizational skill needed to structure a long-form manuscript or the staying power to complete it on schedule. The reverse could be true of the author of books asked to prepare an essay. I recall (anything but fondly) receiving a 42,000-word manuscript for what were to have been two essays totaling 17,500 words. The author delivered it one week past deadline on his way to board the plane that would whisk him off to China, where he would be incommunicado for three weeks. Upon his return, he was anything but pleased with the "trim" I had no choice but to perform.

Finally, it may be next to impossible to determine up front what sort of personality and work habits a hitherto unknown writer brings to her work, but it must be carefully considered in order for the blend of client, author, and book producer to gel. It is a bonus for an editor to work with a relatively low-maintenance author, of course, and even editorial relationships with "difficult" writers can be comfortably managed. But it is crucial is that the client feels fully comfortable with the match, even though they may not have much direct interaction with the writer. This is, after all, their book, and it is our client—much more than the writer—who must live and work with the results over the long haul. Recently, for example, I heard about a project in which a corporate client insisted on switching writers in midstream because it didn't hold with what it discovered about the writer's political affiliations. Free speech and similar considerations aside, it would have been best for all concerned to have known about such issues up front, before the courtship began.

Why I dislike reading online: a print publication designer grumbles

Editorial Services: The Index Hidden Among the Pixels?

As I delve more deeply into editorial- and book-related listservs, blogs, and social media sites, I find very little discussion of back-of-the-book indexes. Some inveterate indexers keep in touch with each other, and a few endeavor to keep in touch with other editorial service providers, but almost no one attempts to reach out to what I’ll call “mainstream” readers, writers, and word-folks. The result, of course, is an increasingly common devaluation of this important aspect of written communication. Why?

Having devoted several of my earlier editorial years to compiling indexes, I have my own suspicions. I know a bit about indexes and what kind of people engage in that manner of making a living. So, it’ probably true that certain personality traits common to many index compilers count for something.
Just who does take up the banner of “indexer” and persevere in providing for him/herself and family by compiling these vital tools? I can only base this estimation on myself and the dozen or so other indexers I have known well, and none of us tend toward extroversion. Many have backgrounds in library cataloguing, and both professions have similar attributes: they demand quiet, are concentration-intensive, and seldom are effectively done unless in solitude. One must keep hundreds or thousands of names, terms, and ideas in play for the duration of an index’s preparation. Otherwise, the final product winds up including too many separate terms for the same things.

Such constraints don’t necessarily translate well into social contact. I remember more than one bout of intensive indexing after which quite a bit of time elapsed before I was able to speak intelliglbly. After one such indexing foray, I unconsciously continued to transpose names in conversation:

“Hey, Brian, what was the name of that women you introduced me to last week? You know, with the shoes?”

“Oh,” I answered. “That was 'Marcos comma Imelda'.”

Then, too, a sizable portion of educated, intelligent readers, who habitually rely on indexes for study and research, haven’t a clue about how an index comes into being. They assume that text is simply “plugged in” to some software application, which then magically separates out the concepts, names, and ideas that need to be indexed and appends appropriate page numbers. In my experience, however, a good, reliable—dare I say responsible?—index has yet to be made by a machine. While software certainly is a boon to information management as well as to automating many rote tasks an indexer until fairly recently did by hand (think alphabetizing, sequencing page numbers, manuscript preparation, etc.), a computer does not interpret text in ways that will make the contents of a document readily available to a human reader. Not that long ago, in fact, I too often indulged in self-amusement by reviewing the “terms” that arose from electronically “indexing” brief passages with Microsoft Word. Anything for a laugh!

But finally, I think the principal reason so little attention is paid to indexes and their composition currently stems from the present nature and perception of information (or, call it text, if you prefer). Why use a compiled index when you can perform a quick electronic search for the name or term you need? I frequently make use of Safari Books Online, a virtual library of (mostly) technical books—software manuals, technical specifications, business guides, and the like. When trying to size up the usefulness of any given publication before deciding to add it to my “bookshelf,” I head to the index to look up specific concepts or terms. Lately, however, almost none of the books I have reviewed have had indexes. Well no wonder, you must think; it’s simpler to perform a search. Not really. If my search is very tightly targeted (e.g., “Marcos, Imelda”), perhaps this is true. But what about something more generic, which could appear in a number of contexts and mean many things (let’s say, “shoes”)? Suddenly, I am wading through dozens upon dozens of hits, of which one or two may be on target. Very frustrating, and a real waste of time.

As the person who commissions editorial service providers to contribute to the production of books, I am very particular about the index. Potential indexers must have the right sort of experience and temperament to work for me. There is no point in launching almost any nonfiction book upon its sea of readers—who will need to be able to use it in myriad ways—without backing them up with a useful index. This is a crucial element, even for books destined for electronic versions. Of course, now it is among the first expenses publishers seem to feel free to cut, often shunting the work off to underpaid (and ill-equipped) editorial assistants. And a poor index is almost as detrimental to a book as none at all, but that’s a subject for another blog.

The 5 Ws of Illustrated-Book Design (Part 2 of 2)

The 5 Ws of Illustrated-Book Design (Part 1 of 2)

When Vern Associates (VAI) began work as an illustrated-book producer 15 years ago, my partner, an exceptionally skillful and sensitive editor, expressed frustration at working with certain graphic designers who considered “content” just another tool in their design workboxes—“nothing more than gray space,” as one had called it. Many designers seem to have little interest or understanding of the text or subject matter with which they were assigned to work.

 

As VAI’s creative director, I considered this to be a challenge, and it has set a standard for the publications we produce for our clients. VAI books entice readers to spend time with them. In order to do this, I need to be very familiar with the content—I need to read it. While my understanding of the story may not be as detailed as my partner’s, I make certain I grasp not just the nature of our client’s work, but also what about it excites them.

 

I have started examining some favorite VAI projects using the journalist’s basic storytelling structure—who, what, when, where, and why—to consider how VAI integrates graphic design in the service of animating their stories. This blog looks at the who and what; part 2 will consider the remaining three Ws.

Who— Living in the Future: International House, 75 Years

When we were called upon to create a commemorative history for the storied international residence that grew up alongside Columbia University in New York City, it became apparent that the foundation of this book would be its people and the vast array of stories they brought from around the world. Complementing these stories was a rainbow of faces that exemplified the principles of International House as eloquently as it’s credo:

I am International House.
I open my doors to the students of the world
that they may live together and grow in understanding.
I am builded as a canopy for an adventure
that had its beginning in a friendly greeting to a lonely student
which has widened into a world of brotherhood.
Therefore, I am not a beginning but a fulfillment.

Faces abound throughout this book. The history of this remarkable place includes some of the twentieth century’s most illustrious figures, and the fascinating formal and candid event photographs that punctuate the text were always displayed alongside portraits and profiles of individuals—some famous, others less so—who have woven the fabric of this international tapestry.

What– Safer, More Secure Lives: A History of Liberty Mutual Group

This particular what represents the broad spectrum of stories, beliefs, goals, and achievements that make an organization stand out from its competitors in the mind of its public. In short, it is the company’s brand.

A corporate brings to life the development of a company’s brand, that is, how it adapted to changes in society and the demands of those it serves in order to grow and flourish.

As we do with all of our clients, we worked closely with Liberty Mutual’s communications and marketing departments, adhering to graphic standards for the brand. For example, in this case we featured the development of Liberty Mutual’s logo, from before the introduction of Lady Liberty through all of her corporate makeovers. 

 

 

 

As de facto publisher for our clients, we take pride in creating books that reflect and respect the uniqueness of their brand. But they must also stand apart as fully realized editorial works, not merely advertising or marketing material.

 

 

 

Substantive Editing of a Multiauthor Book

I recently completed work on a 14-chapter nonfiction book to which some 23 authors contributed (some essays were coauthored). While this was by no means my first—or most complicated—bout with a multiauthor MS, it impressed me as something of a paradigm for this type of editorial service. Why, I kept wondering, does a book written by several different writers require so much more time and care than a single-author work?

The obvious answer is consistency, of course. That one word alone explains perhaps as much as two thirds of the difficulty. On the macro scale, the editor must absorb and comprehend everything each author posits well enough to recognize when one contributor contradicts another. Say, for instance, a table included in chapter 2 points to the conclusion that, in measuring the worth of forest preservation, a particular dollar value may be assigned to restriction of carbon emissions. Then, in chapter 10, a different writer explains how one capably quantify the benefits of carbon credits monetarily. In other words, he comes to a conclusion at odds with his colleague's. First you must make certain not to fall prey to an apples/oranges argument; then, you are called on to find a way to describe the problem to both writers so they can arrive at a mutually acceptable resolution. This is not to suggest that a single-author book is exempt from having its very own conundrums, just that editorial recognition of them is usually much simpler.

On a micro level, not only is it crucial that every author spell toward without the s (or with it, if you prefer), each one must also refer accurately and identically to people, places, and things. For example, one essay in the recently completed book referred to British Columbia's "Great Bear Rainforest." A couple of chapters later, however, another author discussed the "Great Bear's Rain Forest"; and yet a third included a couple mentions of the "Great Bear rain forest." A Google search immediately yielded the Province of British Columbia's website, which cites this area as the Great Bear Rainforest. Over the course of the entire book, however, I had to adjust this name about seven times. Now factor in the twist that half of the essays in this book concern South American subjects with English-preferred acronyms for Spanish corporate names, and you begin to see how time consuming such verification becomes. You also will understand how I ended up with an 18-page style sheet, 90 percent of which is comprised of words and terms that required verification. When you factor in this sort of research, it will be apparent how important fact-checking—on the Internet, in the library—is when providing substantive editorial services.

Then there's the remaining one-third, which primarily consists of coping with what can be seen as almost the opposite of consistency—the delicate balancing of a number of authorial tones. In this regard, editing a single-author book is usually fairly straightforward: I become aware of, then comfortable with, the writer's voice and approach, then assure that they remain intact throughout the work, regardless of the changes I may suggest. With multiple authors, however, each has her or his distinctive voice, and I must always weigh to what extent one essay may (or should) reflect and/or differ from the others. The reader must not be put off by abrupt changes in voice from chapter to chapter, but each writer must be permitted to maintain a distinctive character. (By the way, this definitely is not the case for a fiction collection, where tonal differences are likely to be part of the point of the publication.) Now I am about to delve into another nonfiction book. This one has been written by two—and, in a couple of chapters, three—authors, all working together: writing by committee.

I wish I could recall my first multiauthor book from so many years ago. What must I have done?

Darnton Weighs in on Print Publication

No sooner had I posted my first blog on print publication vs. ebooks, than I came across "On the Ropes?" a terrific article in PW by Robert Darnton, historian of the book, erudite writer, and director of the Harvard Library system. The tagline reads, in part: "Darnton says reports of the book's death are greatly exaggerated." Had I seen this prior to titling my previous blog, I would have found some other way to introduce it. But, I didn't, and on reconsidering, I am just as glad. If someone whose opinion I admire so much is connected with these musings, who am I to object? I can't wait to read his new book, The Case for Books: Past, Present, and Future (soon to be published by PublicAffairs).

Art Book Designer Considers: What Is an Illustrated Book?

When we started Vern Associates 15 years ago, almost all of our clients were commercial publishing companies well versed in every aspect of the editorial, design, and production processes required to make a book. As our client base expanded to include nonpublishing entities, however, we were suddenly called upon to explain both the specifics and even some basic concepts of our work.

Initial confusion usually shows itself when I tell a potential client that we produce “illustrated books.” For publishing professionals, this term conjures up different types of publications, each with its own specific market. But our nonpublishing clients often assume we produce picture books for young children. That’s reasonable. Children’s books prominently display “illustrated by” credits on their covers, and illustration tends to suggest drawn or painted artwork.

I researched the term illustrated book and found the following definition in The Illustrated Book: Notes on an Exhibition in the Print Gallery of the New York Public Library, written in 1919 by Frank Weitenkampf:

Books were illustrated from the beginning. From the block books and the earliest books printed with movable type, on through four and a half centuries, illustration has played its significant part in the printed book. Two basic principles have obtained: the illustration must either elucidate the text or adorn it. It may do both; sometimes it does neither.

We produce museum catalogs illustrated with reproductions of fine art; corporate and organizational histories illustrated with photographs, documents, and artifacts; professional publications illustrated with information graphics and photo-documentation; lifestyle books showing photographs or drawings of food, design, etc. Regardless of a book’s category, it requires that its illustration (be it photography, fine or commercial art, even use of color and typographic display) integrate with the text to invite the reader’s attention and sustain it through an extensive and complex story.

Being an art book designer has captured my interest for more than 20 years. I love the challenge of creating visual guides, landmarks, respites, and highlights for readers to use and enjoy on their journey from front cover to back. Each new title presents its own unique set of challenges and, as many poorly designed books confirm, it is very easy to apply illustration in a way that neither elucidates its text nor adorns it.

Book Producer Wonders: Death of Printed Books Greatly Exaggerated?

This is a truly auspicious time for Vern Associates to initiate our blog. You see, on October 4, 2009, VAI will celebrate its fifteenth anniversary!

A little more than a year before Peter and I founded Vern Associates, an illustrated-book producer, I spent a day meeting with curators and publications people at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. The word on virtually everyone’s lips—often uttered in a hushed, tentative, but excited voice—was Internet. They all seemed to be discovering and exploring a new “thing.” I finally ventured the question, What is the Internet? Instead of snorting and looking at me like I was some sort quaint throwback to an earlier age, I got a half-dozen detailed explanations, few of which agreed with any other.

Several times that day I was asked, Are you on email? Assuming they were referring to the interoffice electronic message system we had at Little, Brown, I said I thought I was. Although I didn’t tell them so, however, I couldn’t figure out why they cared.

Within a year, I was meeting with Time Warner’s newly hired “electronics guy,” who had been brought in to help figure out just how the various publishing subsidiaries of TW could leverage the new technology. He was very smart, very enthusiastic, and didn’t last long. Not because he wasn’t capable, but because he read the handwriting so clearly scrawled across the wall: “This will never affect book publishing.” He left for a position within the computer industry fold that permitted him to work on figuring out how to “assist” publishers who wanted to enter this not-so-brave, new world.

I also recall the great expectations Peter and I—and the vast majority of our colleagues—had for the printed book. Maybe they weren’t expectations so much as assumptions: books would always comprise printed words and pictures on paper, which was then bound and sold in bookstores. Hmmm.

Just today, while visiting the website of the proposed Boston Museum, I read this: “Text book publishers predict the disappearance of the printed text, perhaps within a decade.” Yikes! Could they mean all books? Maybe they’re referring to textbooks alone? As has happened so many times over the past 15 years, I confronted the prediction that leaves me wondering just what it means to people whose livings depend on making books.

To be honest, I keep pretty close tabs on what publishers say on this subject—granting most of what I hear its requisite grain of salt. This was the first time I have heard from a publisher this dire a prediction of the imminent finitude of books as we know them. Even those most focused on the future of publishing don’t expect books to exit totally, either with a bang or a whimper.

When I was in my 20s and 30s, 15 years seemed an eternity. Not so much, anymore. As Vern Associates strides into the blogosphere, we are confronted once again with the need to adjust our views of publishing and books and to examine just what our working lives will look like over the next 15 years.