This blog explores how to perform an early Carolingian binding from the 9th century. I wrote it as a preparatory step toward creating a more definitive guide on how to make your own early Carolingian binding. In the meantime, this post should offer a solid overview of the essential steps involved in executing this historical binding style.
Let’s begin with a general overview of what an early Carolingian Bible entails. The term Carolingian binding—like Romanesque or Gothic binding—doesn’t refer to one specific method of bookbinding, but rather to a number of closely related techniques that produce comparable results. These are ways of working that can be loosely attributed to a particular period and region, which is why they’re grouped together under a single term.
Another distinctive feature is the presence of tabs—or “ears”—that extend from the spine…
A typical feature of Carolingian bindings is that they are sewn directly onto the wooden boards, as this style predates the use of a sewing frame. The supports are made up of double cord sewing structures, around which the binding thread is looped. The bookblock was trimmed only after sewing, resulting in edges that are cut flush with the boards. Another distinctive feature is the presence of tabs—or “ears”—that extend from the spine at both the head and tail of the book.
In this blog, I’ll demonstrate how I applied the Carolingian binding technique in a bookbinding project.
In this blog, I’ll demonstrate how I applied the Carolingian binding technique in a bookbinding project. Working within the context of a 9th-century monastic Bible, I made a few specific decisions along the way. One of those choices was using natural-colored deer leather, as this would have likely been used by monasteries of that period. I also opted for a Coptic stitch for the endband sewing, assuming that wound or herringbone-style endbands were introduced later.
Step 1: Preparing the boards
Any Carolingian binding project begins with the preparation of the boards. While oak would have been the material of choice historically, it’s now difficult to source economically. As a result, I chose two pieces of MDF, each 8 millimeters thick. I cut the boards to a size of 18 by 27 centimeters.
Using a pencil, I drew guidelines to mark the locations of the channels for the sewing supports and endbands. I then drilled holes large enough for 3-millimeter linen cord to pass through, with smaller 1.5-millimeter holes used for the endbands.
After drilling the holes, the gutters are carved with wood chisels. These gutters allow the sewing supports to pass through without causing an unsightly swell in the leather later. They need to be wide and/or deep enough to accommodate the thick cords, and the sizing must be just right. If they’re too deep, you’ll get a depression in the leather; too shallow, and ridges will form. Both are undesirable, so the binder should aim to avoid them as much as possible.
To ensure the right sizing, I like to take one of the cords for the sewing supports and run it through the channels.
To ensure the right sizing, I like to take one of the cords for the sewing supports and run it through the channels. If the result is acceptable, I finish by digging out the holes drilled into the boards from the spine.
Next, we need to create one additional gutter on the board that will become the front board. This is the board around which we’ll loop the sewing supports. As with the outside, we don’t want the cords to form a ridge here either.
Step 2: Preparation for sewing
With the boards finished, the next step is to loop the sewing support cords through the front board. To do so, I create a loop of string attached to a needle. This allows me to easily pull the cords through the holes I drilled. This is done for each individual cord until all of them have been pulled through the front board. Afterward, I equalize their lengths as much as possible. Each end should extend the same approximate distance from their hole in the board.
Next, I face the slightly more difficult task of pulling the sewing support cords through the holes in the spine. Since the hole is longer and the cords must conform to its contours, there’s much more friction. This often requires extra force, which isn’t something you can easily exert with just a string threaded to a needle. Plus, I prefer to avoid injuring myself. To get more grip, I insert the wooden handle of my awl into the loop. It gives me the leverage needed to pull the cords through.
Be careful not to pull too hard! If the wall of the hole is too thin, there’s a risk of tearing through the MDF. If that happens, you might need to remake the entire board. The cord should come through on its own, or with just a slight tug. If it doesn’t, drill the hole larger.
Step 3: Sewing the quires
With the boards prepared, the quires are sawn to create holes for the thread to pass through. I’m using a rather thick No. 10 thread, as it’s an appropriate “medieval” thickness. In fact, thinner binding threads would cause fewer issues with the thickening of the spine. I’m considering using thinner thread in future projects—historical accuracy be damned. For sewing, I use a curved needle which makes it easier to pass the thread behind the sewing supports.
The basic pattern for Carolingian sewing involves exiting the quire at each support, looping spineward around the cords in the direction you’re sewing, before going back inside. For the first quire, we only loop around the sewing supports. For the second and subsequent quires, you loop around the cord of the previous quire as well. Essentially, this is a Coptic stitch, but with the addition of two sewing support cords to strengthen the spine.
The aforementioned pattern repeats until you reach the final quire, at which point the sewing should resemble the image above. At the change-over stations, a simple kettle stitch is applied to securely tie the quires together. With the sewing finished, I can now attach the backboard.
However, in hindsight, I’m wondering if I could’ve used a hammer to flatten the spine relative to the fore-edge. The idea would be to make the fore-edge fan out, creating tension that better holds the clasp shut. It’s something I noticed from a 16th century binding where clasps kept the book shut. Since the current binding has very little tension, the slightest compression of the book causes the clasp to come loose. Definitely something I’ll try in future projects!
Step 4: Attaching the backside board
Attaching the backboard is similar to the front. First, I pull the cords through until the spacing looks right. If the cords are too loose, the hinge will be awkward. Too tight, and the board will press into the quires. Once the spacing is correct, I secure the cords in their holes with dowels. The excess cord is then cut off, the dowel trimmed and the final stub chisseled flush with the board.
Hammering in the dowels might cause the cords to lift slightly out of their gutter. But that’s not an issue, as I’ll glue them down later. Like those on the inside, they’re also cut flush with the board using a wood chisel. With the bookblock fully bound and attached, I glue the spine and to fasten everything. Now I can start to trim the bookblock down to the edges of the boards.
Step 5: Trimming head and tail
To ensure the bookblock stays properly in place, I applied several coats of PVA glue to the spine. Then, I positioned the book inside a homemade press, designed specifically for this purpose. The press has a 50-millimeter wide edge over which I can move my chisel. To compensate for the swelling of the spine, I placed several pieces of 1-millimeter thick greyboard inside the book. This ensures that the cut remains (mostly) perpendicular to both the front- and backside of the book.
I begin by trimming the head and tail of the book, starting at the spine and cutting towards the fore-edge. The fore-edge is trimmed last, with the greyboard again compensating for the swell of the spine.
By the way, I typically wait to trim the fore-edge until after sewing on the endbands. I’ve found that sewing the endbands can sometimes, ever so slightly, pull on the quires. If I were to trim the fore-edge before adding the endbands, it could cause the fore-edge to become unevenness. But trimming after applying the endbands fixed that.
Step 6: Working the leather tabs
Creating the leather tab
Leather tabs are a defining feature of the Carolingian binding tradition, though their exact purpose remains uncertain. Some researchers speculate they were used to help pull the books out of cupboards or book chests. Others suggest they simply served to reinforce the spine. Regardless of their function, these tabs are a characteristic of Carolingian bindings, so I’ll be including them in this project.
To make a leather tab, I cut a rectangular piece from the same leather for the cover. It should be as wide as the spine of the book but not extend beyond the edges. I roughen the side of the leather that will be glued to the spine using some sandpaper. This helps the glue adhere better to the smoother surface. I attach the tab to the spine with PVA glue.
Fastening the leather tab
Once the leather tabs are firmly in place, I apply a coat of diluted PVA glue to the backside. This helps harden the leather, making it easier to cut with a knife. The next step, then, is to create a taper along the edges. A flat edge would result in an unattractive finish, once the book is covered in leather. I begin the tapering where the endband sewing will emerge from the spine, cutting towards the first sewing station. The goal is to gradually taper the leather until the tab is nearly flush with the back of the bookblock.
The images above show me cutting into the leather tab, along with the final result. I accidentally cut a bit too much into the quires, but since I didn’t cut through the folds, it shouldn’t cause much of an issue. While writing this, I realized it might be more proper to pare the leather before affixing it to the spine. However, this method works just fine as long as you’re careful—and, like me, don’t possess a proper paring knife.
Step 7: Sewing the endbands
I opted for an unsupported type of Carolingian endband simply because I believe this was the earliest form of the binding. It’s unclear whether unsupported and supported endbands appeared simultaneously. However, Szirmai notes that out of 125 identified examples, 40 featured unsupported endband sewing. While I haven’t found any examples online (yet), Szirmai’s drawings make it easy to recreate this endband. It’s similar to a Coptic stitch, but worked over the leather tab.
The start of a Coptic endband over a leather tab is deceptively simple. I begin by passing the thread through the first hole, exiting through the spine, then entering the second hole. From there, I loop around the first thread and exit through the spine again at the first quire. Next, I repeat the process by sewing under each ‘X’ the previous stitches form. Once I reach the end of the row, I pass the thread through a hole in the board and back out through the spine. I affix it to the other threads with a simple knot. The gallery above illustrates this process step by step.
Step 8: Covering the book in leahter
With all the parts completed that required access to the internal structure of the binding, I can finally cover the book in leather. I start by gluing the leather to the spine using PVA, then shape the raised bands with a bone folder while the glue is still workable. Once the spine is secure, I glue down the front and back panels. After that, I trim and glue the edges of the leather to the inside of the boards, carefully mitering the corners and cutting them to shape. To ensure the endpaper lies flat and cleanly, I insert a 1 mm piece of greyboard into the recessed area.
Step 9: Sewing the leather tabs
The leather tabs are also sewn using a Coptic stitch, though this time it’s worked over an edge, which introduces a few additional considerations. First, because the start and end of the stitching remain visible, they must be executed cleanly. Second, the tension must be carefully balanced to keep the stitch centered along the edge—any imbalance can pull it off-course. Otherwise, the stitch is worked exactly as it was for the endbands. The gallery above illustrates how I worked the Coptic stitch over the tab lining.
Step 10: Covering in leather
With the leather tabs attached, I finished the book’s internal structure. Affixing the leather cover marks one of the final steps in the bookbinding process, which means the book is nearing completion.
The process starts with applying a thinned-down layer of glue to the leather. While not strictly necessary, I find this helps to keep the fibers down and allows the glue to adhere more effectively to the MDF. I begin by gluing the leather at the center, then press it firmly to the spine.
During the drying process, I periodically press into the leather with a folding bone. The sewing supports are worked into shape in particular, forming the distinctive raised ribs we associate with old books.
From examining old manuscripts, I’ve noticed that the leather on the spine often appears much smoother. Since the adhesive used was usually paste, I suspect the leather may have detached slightly over time due to tension.But if that’s not the case, perhaps the ribs simply weren’t shaped as prominently during that period.
Either way, I’m choosing to go with the more defined look—it’s more visually appealing, and it feels like more care was put into the finish.
Once the spine is fully dry, I glue the front and back sides of the book. Like the ribs on the spine, the beveled edges get some extra attention to ensure the leather adheres properly.
At this point, we’re left with a result like the image above: the loose edges of the leather still need to be tucked around the boards and into the book. To get them to fold cleanly—especially around the corners—I’ve had to do a bit of trimming.
To cut the edges neatly, I’ve found the easiest method is to hold the book on its side and draw a line along the edge of the board. Then, using a ruler, I add the innermost guidelines. This creates an inward-pointing corner that meets the edge of the board.
The leather is trimmed diagonally along the base of that triangle, and the remaining part of the inward corner is carefully cut away. After that, I thin the leather in that area so the corners will come together cleanly once glued.
After trimming, I find it easiest to glue down the longest edge first. Once that has dried, the shorter edges are glued into place. I then trim the entire inside to straighten the leather’s edges. Since I don’t pare my leather, this leaves a fairly deep recess—around 1 to 1.5 mm—which the endpaper won’t adhere to properly if left unfilled. To resolve this, I infill the area with a piece of greyboard to reduce the height difference. This ensures a cleaner, neater result.
After gluing the endpaper onto the board, the final result looks like the image above—a fairly clean inside face of the board. It would look even cleaner if the sewing thread didn’t have two visible knots, but that’s the result of a few mistakes during the sewing process. This could’ve been avoided if the endpapers had been part of a quire. Now, the final step is cleaning up those unsightly and unfinished leather tabs visible in the back of the picture.
Step 11: Perimeter sewing of leather tabs
I forgot something important when working the leather tabs. Twice! First, I forgot to cut them into shape before affixing them to the spine—I was a bit too focused on taking pictures. Then, when I did cut them into shape, I forgot to take pictures of it… yeah, turns out documenting your process while doing it is a skill all on its own. I’ll have to get into cutting the leather tabs in a future blog, but safe to say, it’s not particularly hard. You just shape them however you like.
I’ll not repeat the whole process of sewing a Coptic stitch again—it’s worked exactly like the endband earlier, just without the loop through the quires since it goes around an edge. Next time, I’d probably prick the holes a bit closer to the edge to avoid those long threads running across the spineward side of the tab. Overall, though, the result is pretty nice. I’m starting to appreciate it for its simplicity. Might even try a two- or three-step variation in the next Coptic stitches.
End result
With the perimeter sewing done, the book is basically finished. I’m not including a section on how I attached the strap and clasp—mostly because the way I did it was wildly inefficient. The book also isn’t quite tight enough, so the clasp slips off a bit too easily. Not ideal. That said, I think I’ve figured out a better method for my next project, which is a recreation of Bodleian Library MS. Ashmole 1431.
Despite the strap hiccup, I’m really happy with how this manuscript turned out overall. Here’s a gallery showing the final result:
