Art of Bookmaking
Feature Article | Publishing & Typography
“ This essay reflects on the decline of editorial and design standards in contemporary Sindhi publishing, examining how careless typography, weak proofreading, and hurried production diminish both literature and language, while calling for a return to the patience, precision, and craftsmanship that once defined the making of books. ”
As I pull a newly published Sindhi book from the shelf and let its pages flutter open, I brace myself—not for the joy of reading, but for the disappointment that has become all too familiar.
The text sprawls before me, riddled with errors that should have been caught in a first draft, let alone a final print. Words that sound alike but mean vastly different things are swapped without care, punctuation is scattered like an afterthought, and the very foundation of the book—its layout—feels as if it was thrown together in a hurry, as though the publisher was racing a deadline rather than crafting a literary work.
I turn a few more pages, hoping against hope that things will improve. They don’t. The headers and footers, meant to provide structure, instead exist in a state of confusion—sometimes too large and intrusive, other times so minuscule they seem embarrassed to be there at all. Some pages have no headers at all, as if the designer simply forgot. The paragraphs, too, are in rebellion. Some are squeezed so tightly together that they form a wall of text, forcing the reader to strain, while others float awkwardly apart, their spacing so exaggerated they look like they belong to a poetry collection rather than a prose book.
And then, of course, there’s the typography—the silent betrayer of so many books. Fonts that have no business appearing in long-form reading are scattered across these pages like misfit guests at a formal gathering. Some are so ornate they choke the text, making every sentence an effort to decipher. Others are dull, lifeless digital relics, with erratic kerning that causes letters to lean too close or drift too far apart. The justification is flawed, creating awkward rivers of white space between words. The text alignment shifts unpredictably. The margins—those crucial breathing spaces of a well-designed book—are either so narrow they squeeze the words into the gutter or so unnecessarily wide that they waste entire inches of paper.
- Running head — the book or chapter title at the top of the page. It orients the reader and never competes with the text.
- Text block — the area that holds the words. It sits in the same place on every page, so the eye always knows where to return.
- Leading — the space between lines, named after the strips of lead once placed between lines of metal type. Too tight makes a wall; too loose breaks the paragraph apart.
- Gutter — the inner margin at the spine, wide enough that words do not sink into the binding.
- Outer margin — the breathing space at the edge of the page, with room for the reader’s hands.
- Folio — the page number: small, consistent, always in the same place.
Sindhi is written in a joined, right-to-left script. In Arabic-script typography a line can be justified by lengthening the joins between letters (kashida) as well as by widening the spaces between words, so careless justification shows quickly on a Sindhi page.
This isn’t just bad design. It’s a quiet act of vandalism against the Sindhi language.
Because it wasn’t always this way.
There was a time when a book wasn’t just printed—it was built. The 1980s saw a golden age of Sindhi publishing, when names like Sindhi Adabi Board, New Fields Publication and Sughand Publishers reigned supreme, producing books that felt like they belonged in a library, not in a recycling bin. These were the days of true typesetting, when every letter was not just selected but physically placed. Each page was composed using individual metal type blocks, locked into a chase and inked with precision before being transferred onto paper with a letterpress printing machine. There were no digital shortcuts, no instant formatting fixes. Everything was deliberate. Proofreading was an obsession. If a single word was out of place, the entire composition was adjusted, because nothing less than perfection was acceptable.
There was a time when a book wasn’t just printed—it was built.
The Art of Bookmaking
And yet, paradoxically, as technology has made book production easier, the quality has plummeted. Adobe InDesign, Affinity Publisher, and digital printing presses have given today’s publishers an unprecedented level of control—if only they chose to use it wisely. Margins, kerning, justification, leading—every aspect of layout can be refined with a few clicks. But rather than elevating books, these tools are often wielded without care, resulting in hollow, soulless, error-riddled pages that insult both the writer and the reader.
A book is more than just words on paper—it is an experience. A well-structured book invites the reader in, guiding them effortlessly from one page to the next. It is invisible in its perfection — never distracting, never frustrating. The text should flow, the typography should breathe, the margins should balance. Headers and footers should serve their function without demanding attention. And proofreading should not be a rushed obligation but a sacred duty.
Clean proofs
Read more than once, and by someone other than the writer, before a single copy is printed.
A face for long reading
One text typeface, chosen for comfort over many hours rather than for ornament.
Even rhythm
The same leading and paragraph spacing from the first page to the last.
Balanced margins
A generous gutter, steady outer margins and a text block that never shifts.
Quiet guides
Running heads and page numbers on every page, sized to help, never to shout.
Calm justification
Even spacing with no rivers of white, and no lone lines stranded at the top or bottom of a page.
What we are witnessing today is not just a lapse in quality, but an abandonment of craftsmanship. It is a failure to respect the reader, the language, and the legacy of Sindhi publishing. And unless we reclaim that lost precision — unless we demand that books be made with the same care as they once were — we will continue to see our literature degraded by those who see publishing not as an art, but as a mere transaction.
Sindhi books deserve better. Readers deserve better. And, most importantly, the Sindhi language itself deserves better.
Feature Article | Publishing & Typography
Sindhi publishing, typography and the craft of the book
Editorial Note
References and further study
Bringhurst, Robert. The Elements of Typographic Style. Version 4.0. Seattle and Vancouver: Hartley & Marks, 2012.
Hochuli, Jost. Detail in Typography. London: Hyphen Press, 2008.
Tschichold, Jan. The Form of the Book: Essays on the Morality of Good Design. London: Lund Humphries, 1991.
Carter, Harry. A View of Early Typography: Up to About 1600. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969.
Tracy, Walter. Letters of Credit: A View of Type Design. Boston: David R. Godine, 1986.
Jury, David. What Is Typography? Mies: RotoVision, 2006.
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