If I rebound it, I would be removing what was left of the original tapes, potentially damaging the cover. I was also worried about the reliability of the original binding method and the stress it would put on the aged paper. The conservators and I ultimately decided it was best to mend the damage to the paper but keep the text block and cover separate with no binding. This meant the leaves were loose but could still be flipped through without causing further damage. This decision kept the option open for rebinding in the future, while leaving all the original material intact, preserving evidence of the unique binding structure for future research. 

A close-up of the paper mending I performed on the title page—just one of many tears I repaired in the text block. 

Throughout the text block, there were numerous tears. Paper mending is a delicate and meticulous process, but it is immensely satisfying. In this case it involved tearing tiny strips of thin Japanese tissue, toned with watered down acrylic paints to match the color of the paper, and adhering them onto the tears with wheat starch paste. If everything is done perfectly, the repair can be virtually invisible. 

This book is often requested in the Reading Room, so the repair needed to be strong enough to withstand heavy use. The treatment was extensive, but it was great practice in a variety of techniques. It involved performing a “reback” which replaces most of the material on the spine, board reattachment, and mending to the text block. Some sections were reinforced with new sewing, some leaves were detached, strengthened, and then reattached, and all the tears and losses were repaired.  

These are just some of the treatments I completed. My ten weeks at the BPL were packed with other projects, some of which included designing and making custom mounts for an upcoming exhibition, constructing protective boxes, and encapsulating documents (sandwiching between layers of polyester film and sealing the edges). The latter technique I learned by watching Chris Letizia, the Chief Book Conservator, encapsulate the BPL’s copies of the Declaration of Independence. I also learned the Lab’s photo documentation system by photographing notes handwritten by Amelia Earhart found in her copy of The American Practical Navigator! I repaired a London bookseller’s invoice from 1651—my oldest treatment to date—written in iron gall ink, which is acidic and required a more thoughtful approach. I handled manuscripts from the 18th century, one being an account of damage done to John Hancock’s estate by the British Army. Each new project left me in awe of the collections. With such variety, I was able to take what I learned from my training in the Bookbinding program at NBSS and apply it in a real-world context where each object requires its own unique set of repair methods.  

Outside the lab, I participated in several other activities. I sat in on discussions where the Conservation Team was consulted about various projects. I learned how to collect temperature and humidity monitoring data from around the stacks, and I got to see part of the monthly pest control routine. I learned how the BPL is addressing and storing books made with materials containing arsenic. I assisted in a bookmaking class in the Children’s Library, and with digitizing large architectural drawings. I sat in on multiple meetings about new acquisitions, as in the case of a late-15th-to-early-16th-century, 8-foot-long, parchment scroll written in Latin manuscript. I gave a formal presentation to the staff of Special Collections, and I co-hosted the Conservation Open House where we were treated to a crowd that was eager to see our work. All this is to say, I observed first-hand just how much work goes into caring for the collections. 

Before I moved to Boston to pursue a career in bookbinding and book conservation, I flew up to tour the city and some apartments. I remember visiting the Central Library in Copley Square with its grand staircase guarded by lions, Romanesque towering arches of the Courtyard, and imposing Bates Hall. As my fiancé and I circled back to get one last glimpse of the grand staircase, I vividly remember turning to him and saying, "Can you imagine working here? That would be a dream”. 

I never thought that dream would come true, but this internship was a moment in my life when I felt I had come full circle. It was delightful to practice conservation every day.  

I really can’t express how much I adore books, in every possible way—their structure, their content, their decorative features, the way they feel upon opening. That feeling can’t be replicated. Books define what it means to be human; they are a vessel for history and inspiration, and it has been such an honor to have a part in repairing these pieces of the past.

A special thank you to The Associates of the BPL for funding this opportunity. And to the Special Collections Team, especially Chris Letizia and Mary French, for providing guidance, resources, and knowledge while also allowing me freedom to explore all areas of the field and trusting me to carry out the work.