“PAPER. Perhaps the greatest and most important invention of all time.” “RICE PAPER. There is no such thing as rice paper....” The first lines of these key entries in the latest edition of Sidney E. Berger’s monumental The Dictionary of the Book—from pages 327 and 396, respectively—are two of many this magazine’s read- ers will relate to. They also signal the quirkiness of this delightful reference volume. Wherever paper is curated, presented, and discussed in any broader context, linguistic precision is essential: how underlying decisions are expressed shape our experience of anything made with, of, and on paper.
The first edition was a towering achievement when released in 2016, and was widely lauded (by everyone but its author) for being remarkably comprehensive. The second edition, published in 2023, features roughly 700 new entries, 62 about paper. Over- all, it went from approximately 1,300 to 2,000 entries, with paper-specific entries increasing from 120 to 182. It encompasses all book-related disciplines, and about nine percent deals with paper terminology. Endearingly, Berger goes out of his way to emphasize the fluidity of his endeavor, repeatedly pointing out that there will always be new—and old!—terms worthy of inclusion.
The simple structure—forewords, introductions, dictionary, appendices, and bibliography—enables efficient consultation and cross reference. The most vital section for those of us in the paper world is “Appendix A: Paper and Paper-Related Terminology in the Present Volume.” Readers of the first edition will be encouraged by a variety of newly added terms, ranging from “Acetate” to “A4 paper,” “Annonay paper,” “Chiyogami,” “Ebru,” “Itajime,” “Joss papers,” “Katazome,” “Papier porcelaine,” and “Porcelain cards.” These reflect a view expanded with an eye to international trade, although the author is the first to admit that blind spots remain. For instance, there is now an entry for washi (accurately and concisely defined as “The Japanese word for Japanese paper”). Discriminating readers might wonder why there isn’t an entry for its parallel Korean retronym, hanji, although the entry for washi does nod to the existence of hanji without naming it or unpacking its etymology. My interpretation: bibliophilic markets, which are often slow-moving and fairly conservative, have not yet expanded as those for pop music, literature, film, and other arts have. So I eagerly await a third edition, although hearts, minds, everyday speech, and jargon can be slow to change.
One of this book’s strengths is its emphasis of hands-on knowledge informed by its author’s status as practitioner, which is likely related to his sense of humor: the entry for “Glossary” ends by asserting that “Any volume with the word ‘glossary’ in its subtitle is certain to be authoritative and reliable.” Berger brings life to these subjects with a passion that compensates for a potential weakness—the book’s lack of color reproductions. Furthermore, the new introduction reveals that, whereas the first edition was largely a response to the shortcomings of John Carter’s classic ABC for Book Collectors, first published in 1952 and now in its ninth edition, this second edition is decidedly not. The first edition of Berger’s dictionary, released between the eighth and ninth editions of Carter’s ABC, noted, “I am happy to see that this venerable text is being revised.” Berger’s new edition reveals his disappointment: three times over, he calls out Carter’s most recent editor for dereliction of duty; it’s an understandable response, but the repetition strikes a sour note in a book that otherwise exudes a generous spirit. Luckily, it is otherwise charming enough to be a more compelling read than any other reference volume in this field.
Berger responds to cultural shifts both head-on and in more indirect ways. Readers familiar with his writing will recognize his alternation of his and her pronouns; I can only imagine how radical that must have seemed to the average North American antiquarian bookfair attendee of various eras when he/him/his was the default. Berger also uses plural forms to avoid unnecessary gendering, although contemporary readers might expect a more uniform application of this approach. Finally, this volume addresses the Internet in an intriguing way, acknowledging both the bane of link rot and the boon of access to older primary sources. Since language is perpetually shifting, a plethora of vestigial and outmoded uses excluded from the previous edition have been included here so that twenty-first-century readers can decipher nineteenth-century and other terminology. One of the most courageous things we humans can do is change our minds, and as he states at the top of the book on page 8, Berger’s stance has evolved.
This dictionary—or should I say glossary?—will be a useful addition to the shelves of papermakers, artists, paper scholars, and the paper-curious. Ample cross references meant that each time I sat down to look up a specific term, I spent longer and read more entries than expected. Although I am one of those people who reads dictionaries, encylopediae, and thesauri for pleasure, this book enlightened and delighted me more than any other reference work. Its price means many individuals will need to enjoy it at their nearest library, but for those who can splurge, this edition will be a welcome addition to coffee table, personal library shelf, or even nightstand—but be forewarned, it’s a potentially habit-forming stimulant.
