The Library

John Ruskin

The critic who hated the machine, set entirely by one. He would have written a furious letter.

This title is borrowed from the coverage of Karolis Kosas’s 2013 Anonymous Press, not invented here. The cover shown is this site’s composition for the same words, not a book from that project.

Shelf
History
Archetype
03 stacked bars
Inks
GreenOrangeBlack
Suggested format
A5, standard, 28 pp.
Author
None: set by the system

Format and extent are what the engine suggests for a print run. No copy of this title has been printed.

John Ruskin03 stacked bars

Catalogue note

John Ruskin is on this shelf because he was on the first one. When It’s Nice That wrote about Karolis Kosas’s Anonymous Press on 7 February 2013, it described the service as a way to “churn out fanzines on John Ruskin, inter-dimensional travel or whatever else your niche interests require”. The title is borrowed from that sentence. Two facts make it more than a joke for a press.

The critic who published himself

In 1871 Ruskin decided to set up a publishing house of his own. It was run by George Allen, who had been his drawing pupil at the Working Men’s College and later engraved plates for his books. Allen started it “at a week’s notice, and without any previous experience of the trade”, first from his cottage at Keston, later from an outhouse in the garden of his villa at Orpington. He opened a London office at 8 Bell Yard, Chancery Lane, in 1890, and the firm became George Allen and Unwin after Stanley Unwin took it over in 1913. The account comes from the Dictionary of National Biography (1912), as summarised in Allen’s Wikipedia entry.

An author who controls how his own books reach readers: that is the ambition the short history of the small run on this site follows, from the photocopier to print on demand.

The Nature of Gothic, printed by Morris

“The Nature of Gothic” is a chapter of the second volume of The Stones of Venice (1853). Its subject is the worker more than the building: “You must either make a tool of the creature, or a man of him. You cannot make both. Men were not intended to work with the accuracy of tools, to be precise and perfect in all their actions.”

In 1892 William Morris printed the chapter as a book of its own at the Kelmscott Press in Hammersmith, published by George Allen in London and Orpington. His preface, signed 15 February 1892, says the chapter “in future days will be considered as one of the very few necessary and inevitable utterances of the century”. The colophon of that edition, and the preface, can be read in a scan on the Internet Archive.

What the engine made of him

The cover on this page is what that sentence warns against: a machine working with the accuracy of a tool, precise and perfect in all its actions. Type his name into the generator and the same stacked bars come back in the same green and orange, every time, with no hand in them. The press keeps the title because it is the clearest argument against the press.

Sources

How the engine set it

One sheet per ink, in the order a duplicator would run them: the same separations the generator shows for any word. The title alone decided all of it.

Want it on paper? Print the cover and fold one sheet into an eight-page zine, or take the file to one of the print-on-demand services the guides compare.

First ink Green
Second ink Orange
Third ink Black

Same shelf: History

All History