Lately, I’ve been flipping through books more than reading them. And the more I think about it, the less I see it as a problem. Rather a symptom of the times we live in. Also a professional deformation. Reading books is still wonderful; words and images are the oxygen of our imagination. However, four years ago, when I started working at the National Library of Latvia (LNB), I quickly realized that books also deserve other verbs. They can not only be read, but also touched, flipped through, deconstructed, and studied as a physical, material object.
For example, in the video series “…par grāmatu”, in which we examined the most important stages of book production from paper making to binding, such different book design samples were presented that their physical form and tactile experience became as important as the content. Possibly, in some cases even more exciting! Books that do not burn at 450 degrees Celsius, editions where pages must be cut with surgical precision, as this is the only way to access the text, book illustrations that become especially expressive under UV light. Such editions activate multiple human senses and become “tangible oases in the virtual desert.” A printed book as a technology, as a deliberately crafted human object, is one of the questions that occupies libraries. This interest transforms into exhibitions, publications, new research, videos, and discussion cycles that return to the idea of the book as a timeless phenomenon.
For approximately three years, until September 2025, the text did not interest LNB. Just kidding. Text – both written and printed – undoubtedly interests libraries. We inherited the provocative slogan “text does not interest us” from colleagues who started working on an exhibition about “book design and Riga’s first printer Nikolaus Mollinus.” We continued the project, formulated the concept, created the story, and made the most important decision – which books to exhibit. We consciously refused to include modern editions. Books from the 16th and 17th centuries allow us to see universal principles of book construction with sufficient precision that also work today.
The book itself is capable of breaking time. Regardless of the century in which the book is printed, at the moment of reading it is always “now” and remains one of the rare technologies that does not become obsolete, but simply changes context. The rare modern reader will be able to read and understand text printed in Latin without difficulty, but the book’s design will reveal much. For example, a book with blank covers, without information about the edition, most likely indicates that it was printed before the 19th century. In the past, books were sold without covers; each owner ordered them individually, arranging binding after purchase. The title page was the most important element that helped identify the edition and simultaneously served as a marketing tool. It provided information about the printer, publisher, year and place of publication, often adding decorative elements. Also in every home library, one can quite easily read which are the latest editions, which books were created during the Soviet era, and in which cases yellowing paper together with bright covers will indicate the nineties of the last century. One can train the eye and keep up with current developments in contemporary Latvian book design by examining editions found in local publishers’ bookstores or by studying the current list of nominees and laureates of the art competition “Golden Apple.”[1].
Working on the exhibition, I realized that a book is a very logical object. Perhaps it is too sentimental to explain it solely with care for the reader; rather, it is a measured and logical approach in an industry where every production error is expensive. Have you ever wondered why a book has a rectangular shape? It turned out to be the most suitable for both reading comfort and efficient use of raw materials (parchment and paper). The purpose of use also determines the book’s format. In the past, a book intended for scientific work on-site could be large-format and heavy, while more compact editions were adapted for cases when the book needed to be carried along. In the current LNB exhibition “Right to a Library,” a certain 18th-century Riga songbook is on view. In the exhibit’s annotation, it is described as one of the most requested and most read genres of that time; its size confirms the idea of a book as a practically usable object. The book’s format is compared to a smartphone, which is comfortable for a person and fits easily in the palm of the hand.
Those involved in book production constantly repeat how risky self-serving solutions are; creativity cannot exist detached from the practical. Of course, the vast technical possibilities tempt us to make a book similar to a Hollywood box-office hit, full of printing special effects. But before doing so, it’s worth asking the question: why is this necessary and what will it bring to the book? Various decorative elements are also characteristic of the design of old printed books. They were created both in woodcut, copper engraving, and metal casting. Decorative significance was also given to the gradual narrowing of lines of letters in solemn compositions, dedications, or poetry. Text fragments that formed the silhouettes of cups and funnels attracted the reader’s attention. In many modern editions for children, we will see interactive elements, windows that can be opened, parts that need to be folded out or rotated. In 16th-century books, multi-level rotating paper disks sewn together were common. Such diagrams or calculation tables were created for astronomy and natural science books. Ancient books can serve as a source of inspiration for modern graphic design solutions. However, if you feel that you have come up with something completely new, it’s worth checking whether some bookmaker has already tried it a few centuries ago.
In the project “The text doesn’t interest us”[2] , we also came to reflections on the future of book design. At the moment we were creating the exhibition, the use of artificial intelligence tools did not yet seem everyday, so the idea of AI and human competition was a powerful illustration of the human role in book production. The book “Lorem Ipsum. Testus nostra nihil intereset” was created, designer Alexej Murashko’s experiment, a historical journey through the history of typography and a tribute to book designers. Each opening told something about the development of book design, but did so with design elements rather than text that could be read. Lorem Ipsum pages of the book are filled with unreadable sample text. All meanings are revealed at another level of perception. Artificial intelligence could not keep up with this approach. It resisted structure, arranged content on front pages, could not create additional layers of meaning, and even made technical mistakes: ignored spaces, did not observe word breaks, and placed illustrations chaotically. Humans also make mistakes. The best and at the same time most painful moment to discover tiny errors in a book is when sending it to print or receiving a fresh copy straight from the printing house. But there is another type of error – less dramatic, but no less significant. Japanese designer Satoshi Machigui describes the book creation process as constant making mistakes. You print, look, understand what doesn’t work, and try again. Efforts to avoid mistakes lead to cautious and insecure solutions.
A book is never just a result. It is a process and team work. If the creation of a book is a process, I will also consider my reader’s experience as such, in which the stage where the text interests me is replaced by the moment when the book itself seems more interesting: its form, material, and construction. At such moments, design can become a hook that draws you into the book’s content. Maybe that’s why ancient books hold our attention so well even if reading the text is not so easy.
Author: Ineta Vaivode
[1] By the way, every year the books nominated and awarded in the competition can be found together with free access in the LNB M floor Information and Inquiry Center reading room.
[2] The exhibition concluded in September 2025, but in 2026 LNB published a book documenting the project, “Text Does Not Interest Us.” The book collects the exhibition texts, photographs of exhibits, scenography, and accompanying events, providing insight into the project’s course. The publication is also supplemented with several new articles dedicated to book design and printing history.
