The universal rule in this matter is, don’t. To this there are exceptions; but many if not most of the books which are repaired are so injured by the process itself, or by the wear they receive after they are repaired, that it would have been better for them if they had not been repaired at all, but sent direct to the binder.

Librarians do not pay sufficient attention to book surgery.

All repairing of books should be done by skilled persons. The question of whether or not repairs shall be made at all should be decided by a person who has not only technical skill in repairing; but also knowledge of the use to which the book in hand is likely to be subjected. This, because in many cases it will be evident to a person who knows about the use the books are to have that certain of them should not be repaired at all, no matter if in quite a dilapidated condition, with loose covers and loose leaves; but should be neatly wrapped in good manila paper, labeled plainly on the back and set again on the shelf. The few times in a year when little-used books are wanted do not, in many cases, warrant their rebinding. Repairs on them, no matter how well done, are likely to injure them. Books which are rarely borrowed, even though they are used occasionally, or are even a good deal handled because they stand near books which are much used, should perhaps be mended a little; loose leaves should be tipped in, at least. But work on them beyond that is often injurious.

The feeling that all books in a library should be neatly bound has caused much unnecessary expense.

In most libraries of moderate size and in all large ones, there should be a supervisor of binding and repairs; a person thoroughly familiar with the whole routine of library work, familiar also with literature, keeping close watch of the rise and fall in popularity of new books. Such a person could say, for example, that the library’s third copy of the Valley of Decision and the fourth copy of the Crisis, if ready for repairing or rebinding, could with good economy be placed on a reserve shelf, not accessible to the public, there to be held until the delivery desk assistants find a call for them. That is, she would know that with two or three copies in good condition of these books in circulation there would almost always be one in the library. When the library’s stock of such books as those named becomes reduced to one sound copy she can then tell, from the demand for it, if it is wise to bind one copy, or all; or if it is wise to do more than mend.

This omniscient person who has charge of binding and repairs, reports to the head of the library that such and such books are past repairs; that they will cost 35 to 50 cents apiece to be properly rebound, and asks, “Will the library ever want them again?” If not, then she will advise that they be given away and their cards removed from the catalog. Or, if they must be kept for historical or religious or superstitious or other reasons she will advise that they be neatly tied up in paper, labeled, and put back on the shelf.

Knowledge of the art of mending implies not only knowledge of the process of making a book by machinery and by hand; but also knowledge of the different kinds of paper, how they wear, if they break easily, if they will soon grow brittle, and the effect on them of attempts to hold them with paste or glue.

Along with this knowledge should also go knowledge of the cost of each individual book, and such knowledge of their use as will enable the repairer to decide at once whether 10, 20, or 30 cents spent in repairs will or will not pay.

As long as there are so few assistants who are at all familiar with paper, type, binding, literary quality, popularity, cost, etc., it is well to discourage almost all book repairs.

As soon as we admit, as we must, that a good book, costing from one to two dollars, must be mended carefully if at all, we have opened the door for a large expense. An assistant can easily spend an hour or two on a book, repairing its cover, mending a few leaves and putting it in order. When she gets through she will have put from 30 to 50 cents’ worth of time into it, has probably permanently injured it, and in a few months or years it will be in worse condition than if she had never touched it at all. Moreover, the same amount of money put out in cash instead of time would in many cases have rebound it.

In a measure the remarks just made apply even to popular books, much used by children or adults. It is easy to spend more money in mending them than good economy can justify. Mend sparingly; rebind early.

The reason for this warning against mending lies in the anatomy of the book and the injury it receives from handling after it begins to break up, and especially after its first breaks have been mended by a prentice hand.

The weakest point in a book is the joint. In publishers’ binding of today this joint is made by a piece of super, which is glued to the back of the book and then to the inside of the cover, plus the end paper which is pasted over it and also onto the cover. This super is weak. If it is put on with a poor glue that glue soon grows hard and the joint is further weakened thereby. It breaks or tears easily. Also, it parts easily from the back to which it is glued and from the cover. No strings or tapes pass from the book to cover. When the joint once comes loose from either back or cover, or breaks, it cannot well be either attached or mended again. It is sometimes possible to take a broken book out of its case entirely, remove the old and attach new super, add new end sheets, put it again into the case and get considerable use from it. But any other kind of mending of the joint is almost futile and even this is injurious. And the better such mending seems at first to succeed, the greater the harm it is really doing to the whole book. For the mending usually consists in pasting a strip of strong paper or cloth along the joint. This simply conveys the strain from the joint proper, where it belongs, to the first leaf of the first signature. This is only paper, usually poor at that. It soon breaks and lets its other half loose. Very commonly other injuries are worked at the same time. The book gets loose again, if it was ever really tightened. The super with hard glue attached rubs about on the backs of the signatures; several of them are cut through, and the possibility of a rebinding with proper sewing is either gone forever or can be regained only after the long labor of mending many signatures.

When the cords or bands are broken in a book in which they are used it is as useless to attempt to fasten book and cover together as it is when the super gives way in publishers’ binding.

Loose leaves appear earliest in books printed on paper which is so heavy that it breaks almost as soon as it is folded. If the loose leaves of such books are tipped in they tend to tear out with them the ones they are tipped onto. Leaves should rarely be tipped into books which have never been rebound. In rebound books which are in their last days and will never be rebound again it is sometimes proper to tip in.

Full-page illustrations which come loose can in most cases be left out to advantage. To tip them in again hurts the leaves they are fastened to. They are usually so poor that it is a kindness to the reader to throw them away.

In the long run a book needing more than very slight repairs will give better return if so rebound at once that it will hang together until so dirty that it will have to be thrown away.

Some books, especially some of those printed on cheap, heavy, coated paper, will never pay to rebind. They should be mended, each according to its constitution, and when beyond mending thrown away.

Good general rules for mending books are few. The first and most important of all is: Be sparing with paste or other stickist. Another is: If a machine-bound book is broken at the joint, the cover beginning to part from the back, send it straight to the binder.

The best plan is to buy your books as far as possible properly bound for library use direct from the publishers’ sheets. Such books never need mending or rebinding. Being flexible and easily opened their leaves are rarely torn; and, for the same reason, getting no hard pressure from moist or dirty hands in trying to keep them open, their leaves keep clean for a long time.

Books not thus bound in the first place should be rebound in first-class manner when they begin to break. Parsimony in rebinding is a library thief.