02. *Teresa Margherita*, before treatment

When this 1691 copy of the Birth, Life, and Death of Teresa Margherita came into the bindery, it was clear that the biography had provided more than just food for thought over the centuries. In fact, this copy had provided a feast—for some very hungry larvae. [01, 02]

The immature insects chewed their way in through the leather along the spine, [03] as evidenced by multiple tiny circular perforations, then munched on the adhesive and board beneath the leather, [04] and for dessert ate hieroglyphic trails through the paper lining, adhesive, thread, and text pages along the length of the text block’s spine. Multiple signatures at the front and back of the book were detached; [05] many others were loose throughout because the paper around the sewing thread had been eaten away. On numerous pages, areas along the spine fold, particularly at the head and tail, resembled Rorschach lace. [06]

It was impossible to sew the book back together in its current condition. However, enough of the original cords, adhesive, and linings still spanned the central gatherings and held the text block together despite the damage. Rather than disbinding the entire book, I decided to take the still-consolidated center of the text block as my foundation and work around it. By strategically applying thin washi (Japanese paper) to the most vulnerable spine folds at only the locations where sewing thread would pass through, I was able to stabilize areas where the paper had been entirely eaten away or where there was too little left to support sewing without introducing too much extra bulk that would distort the shape of the book. [07]

Following a template, I pierced holes through the repaired areas where the original sewing stations had been [08] and through the remaining spine linings, then, following a technique developed by the conservator Maria Fredericks, wrapped a strip of aerocotton over the text block spine and sewed the loose and detached signatures around the original cords and through the cotton onto three new hemp cords laid over three of the five the original cords. I also sewed new endbands of plain linen. [09]

(Yes, you are seeing what you think you see—I sewed this book on a homemade collapsible sewing frame built with scrap wood and branches pruned from a dogwood bush.)

Sewing the book through the layer of cotton had multiple benefits, the most significant of which for this book is that the heavy losses it had suffered at the hands—well, mouths—of those hungry larvae would have given any paste that directly touched the spine easy entry into the pages, risking an array of problems ranging from tide lines to leaves being stuck together. The aerocotton provided the barrier I needed to adhere new material safely to the spine: faux cords to create raised bands over the two protected original cords as well as new spine linings—first thin handmade paper, then stiff kraft paper. [10, 11]

12. Close-up of gauffered ownership mark on the gilt edge.

A bonus of resewing the book is that by carefully realigning the pages, I was able to reconstruct the gilding and ownership mark on its top edge, which turned out to have been gauffered with a previous owner’s name—“De Madame la Princesse de Torc”—matching the stamp on the verso of the frontispiece, facing the title page (see the first image). [12]

Finally, I rebacked the book with new calf toned to harmonize with the original leather. Here you can see the same facing pages before repair and after sewing—now safely readable if carefully handled. [13, 14]