Know your book terminology!

As we head into 2026, and a new collecting year, do you really know your verso from your recto, and your joints from your hinges?

When jamesbondfirsteditions.co.uk first launched in 2020, it was done so with some genuine and heart-felt ambitions.

Mainly, it was to offer up the best possible books, at the best possible prices. However I was also keen to dispense with some of what I saw as the ‘fustiness’/unapproachability of the rare book collecting world.

Take price inflating – booksellers adding a premium, just to allow for customers then being able to barter price down. This yesteryear practice - I felt - had no place in modern commerce. The truth is that buyers aren’t really getting a discount is all! It’s why the price you see on this site is the price you pay (but priced properly and competitively to start with).

Loose language

One of my other pet peeves though is other sellers’ continued use of loose (or vague) language (especially when describing about condition) – in fact it was the topic of my very first blog - see here.

My goal (as a working journalist as well as being a bookseller), has always been in support of plain, simple, non-ambiguous English.

In saying this though, there is one aspect around vernacular in book selling that I’m less black and white about.

This is the use of traditional words or phrases that we – as collectors – have all seen, read, and probably thought we understood, but actually (if we stopped) might admit that we don’t know what they all mean at all.

These are words like as gutters, hinges, joints, half-titles, titles, frontispieces, backstrips, blind-stamps, deckles, flyleafs, octavo, stitching – all words that we might think we know what they mean, but possibly we do not. And this is actually not good news for buyers, especially if they're reading them in relation to condition points (and yet their meaning is not sinking in).

I’m torn about the use of these traditional words, because, in the main, they are part of the rich history and varied tapestry of book collecting.

The people that partake in activities or hobbies love to have their own words and language that is unique to them, and so for this reason, I think it would be a shame for these words to die away.

But at the same time, if these words no longer carry their original meaning for people, or create ambiguity, or even worse, are used to confuse people, I’m not totally happy about their use.

The irony is that many of these words originated to convey a precise and very specific meaning, referring to very specific parts of a book. They were actually designed to standardise descriptions, and make judging condition of books easier.

But if these words are still being used, but their original meaning has been lost or replaced with something else, I’m unsure what purpose they have, and I’m suspicious if they're still being used.

Know your terminology!

I was reminded about all of this, after recently watching a video-post from American bookseller Rebecca Romney – the US-based dealer of mainly modern firsts.

Formerly the boss of Bauman Rare Books in Las Vegas (and who some might know for being the resident book appraiser on US TV series Pawn Stars), she now has her own rare book shop, and she has a massive social media following – mostly because she puts up almost daily videos sharing cool book information.

At only a minute or so long, they are well worth a watch, because they delve into quirks of different books, and the subject of collecting more broadly.

A regular feature she runs is showcasing three different bookseller terms, in the form of a multiple choice. Her latest video caught my eye because she was illustrating terminology around dust jackets, using Live and Let Die (above).

I thought I had a pretty good grasp of most of the common terms, but I was surprised when I watched this video and realised I did ‘not’ know the difference between ‘joints’ and ‘hinges’.

Immediately one might think they don't need too much explanation. Some might also think they both mean the same thing. But these two words do relate to two very different things.

Do you really know the difference?

The answer is that the hinge (be it on a jacket, or the book itself), refers specifically to the ‘inside’ part of any flexible part of a book.

The joint meanwhile refers to the corresponding ‘outside’ part.

So, damage to the joint (the outer part of a jacket), means something very different to damage to the hinge.

I rather suspect some sellers use both of these words interchangeably (and probably by mistake) – but the result is the same: if they’re not understood properly, people might have a very different idea about the condition of a book than is actually the case in reality.

Terminology: You've just got to learn it!

In her posts, Rebecca Romney’s view is clear: that these bibliographic words are important, have a purpose, and most importantly, ‘belong’ to the bookselling/collecting world.

In other words, they are part of the identity of book collecting; and that rather than stop using them altogether, she’d rather educate buyers about what some of the more obscure ones actually mean.

In other words: Better to know the terminology than be confused by it, especially if traditional booksellers continue using them.

And whilst I originally said I’m all for the use of plain language, I also love my history, and on balance, I feel I have to agree with her.

But what this means therefore – and uncomfortable though it might sound – collectors themselves have a responsibility to know the terms booksellers use.

This is because booksellers ‘will’ be using them to describe specific condition issues, and if buyers receive a book they're not happy with, sellers will simply argue that these nasty condition surprises are unjust, because they’ve ‘plainly’ [agree or disagree] set them out.

Other examples:

Whilst researching this blog, I quickly found that there are lots of other technical terms that can be misleading.

Did you know, for instance, that a book described as being ‘sophisticated’ is one that has had some repairs to it? An ‘unsophisticated book’ has had no repairs.

In my mind this is definitely a candidate for plainer, simpler language, because it’s possible many people would read sophisticated as meaning ‘original’ with no repairs. 

Verso is another ones of those words that seems to have different uses.

It can on the one hand mean 'the reverse’ (ie we see the phrase ‘the verso of the jacket – ie the plain underside of a jacket - see above) – but it also means the lef-hand side page of an open book (with ‘recto’ being the right side). So, mis-reading information about damage to the verso could be costly.

Another phrase Rebecca has clarified for me is this one: ‘marginal toning’.

This is a prime example of confusion that can occur when we try and think what this means.

In ordinary life, things that are marginally-different, or marginally agreed are ‘by just a little’.

It’s easy to think that marginally toned just means a bit, or a little toned. Ie marginally – not totally absent.

But, think harder! Books have margins.

‘Marginal toning’ is actually referring to that obvious line of browning that typically runs all the way across the very edge of a book's inner pages, just where sun has penetrated the top or side page block, and percolated a bit further down, uniformly all from one side to the other, or running up the outer edge of the page block. (See a still from one of Rebecca’s other videos above).

The words ‘Title page’ and ‘half title page’ also have the power to mislead.

Above: Half title (middle); title page (right) 

Both have the title on it, but if there’s a description saying there's spotting or an owner's inscription on one or either of these pages, which page(s) are we talking about?

The answer is that the half-title is a leaf that directly precedes the title-page proper.

OK that’s as clear as mud!

More accurately, the book’s half title page comes before the full title page in a book, with the title (often abbreviated) usually centered on the page. Most importantly of all, it doesn’t contain any author or publisher information – just the title itself – often positioned halfway up the page.

The title page meanwhile, denotes the official start of the front matter of the book, and should include title of the book; the subtitle of the book (if there is one); the author’s name, and the name of the publishing company.

Preliminaries? What exactly are these?

We sort of feel like we know them, but definitionally they are all the leaves of a book which precede the main text e.g. the title-page, table of contents, preface. Again, this is a word that is often used when describing, say, damp stains or foxing/spotting that ‘only affect the preliminaries’. Note: there can be a few or many preliminaries.

(PS I’ve used the word ‘leaves’ here – because this also has a very specific meaning. A leaf has two sides, each side being one page. One leaf/two pages).

Gutters – are you sure you know what these are?

I don't mind holding my hand up and admitting that for a long time, I thought this word referred to the groove/depression that is the space between the book boards used for the spine and front and back boards (see picture above).

I my mind I was imagining water collecting/running down this depression, just like it does on house guttering.

But I was very wrong! The gutter actually refers to the inner margin of the leaves of a bound book.

Cocked?

This is also a word I feel I’ve slightly misinterpreted. I’ve always been led to think it describes a book that has to slight forward lean or roll.

It sort of does, but more accurately, it actually refers to the spine being slightly twisted, where gravity deforms the book binding. Cocking can also involve a book’s spine being slightly twisted or non-vertical at either end that is not severe enough to cause spine slant.

Your quick glossary of other terms:

If you have learned something thus-far, then it’s highly likely you’ve been misinterpreting condition descriptions, or at the very least, not as precisely as you thought.

Here are some other terms that I think the average collector might not have fully understood:

Backstrip

This is a word I really think is outdated now, but can still sometimes be spotted. It refers to the covering on the book's spine. The word ‘spine’ should really suffice.

Chipped 

This specifically means small pieces broken off of a dust jacket or binding, rather than mere splits, which is sometimes inferred/suggested.

Dog-eared

This is a phrase you have to be careful of. Over time it’s morphed into being a general term for a book being a bit worn or ragged, and generally a bit down and out, condition-wise. However, it really ought to describe the edges of pages – ie corners of pages turned down like a dog’s ear, often to mark one’s place while reading.

Flyleaf

This is a blank leaf, sometimes more than one, following the front free endpaper or at the end of a book where there is not sufficient text to fill out the last few pages.

Fore-edge

The front edge of the text block, which opposes the spine or bound edge (as opposed to the top edge and bottom edge). Fore-edge is often used to mean the vertical page block.

Free endpaper

(also front free endpaper ffep and rear free endpaper rfep):

The first or last movable leaf of paper in a book. Sometimes called the front or rear fly and often blank. 

Frontispiece 

The page printed on the left hand side directly after the half title – normally with an image or picture. Title page is normally printed on the right page directly facing the frontispiece.

Obverse:

The right-hand page of a book, more commonly called the Recto.

Panel

The front or back of a dust jacket, as opposed to the spine or flaps.

Paste-down

The portion of the end-paper pasted to the inner cover of a book.

Rubbed/ Rubbing

Often used colloquially to describe dust-jackets getting worn, it actually refers to color being worn away from portions of the binding or dust jacket. It can also used to indicate rubbed cloth covering the boards to the point where the material of the boards shows through. This wear is often caused s a result of shelf friction.  Rubbing is not the same as ‘scuffing’ though or ‘scuffed’. Scuffing/scuffed indicates a more severe form of rubbing.

Soiling

If you think soiling means dirty you’re sort of 50% there. But it's more accurately a gathering of dust or dirt usually caused by handling.

Wrapper

The outer covers of a paper-bound book or pamphlet. Not to be confused with dust wrapper.