Down a flight of outdoor stairs, on the lower level of a historic building in Vancouver’s Gastown neighbourhood, you’ll find E.C. Rare Books. Inside, the walls are lined with, of course, books, but also other vintage items like photos and figurines, as well as a heavy-beamed book press that looks positively ancient. The atmosphere here is that of a long-ago era, accompanied by a faint, fusty fragrance that’s simultaneously familiar and comforting.

Amidst all this history, Richard Smart, the shop’s owner, is hunched over a worktable, scraping at a big, battered book. Its dark-brown leather cover – a family bible dating back 100 years or more – is flaking, frayed, and peeling away from its split spine. Clearly, it’s seen better days, but is considered enough of an heirloom that it’s been brought in to be restored by Smart, a third-generation bookbinder.

This is just one of the ways Smart is preserving antiquarian books and the tradition of bookbinding. He learned the craft from his father in London, England, who learned it from his own father. Smart’s grandfather began bookbinding in the early 1900s, during a time when the trade was thriving. More than a century later, Smart himself is as rare an entity as the books he works on. “As far as people who are doing it professionally, as a living, there’s not many left,” he acknowledges.

Yet despite being such an esoteric profession nowadays, bookbinding goes back thousands of years: to Julius Caesar’s pugillares membranei (animal-skin parchment folded and bound into a kind of notebook) circa 45 BCE; Bi Sheng’s moveable type (AD 1045); and Johannes Gutenberg’s invention of the printing press (AD 1440).

Books are an essential part of history, says Smart. “I like books with provenance. It doesn’t matter how rare it is if it’s been through someone’s hands.” Most of the books and other printed matter he sells are both rare and of astounding origin. These have included a document signed by J. Robert Oppenheimer, and he and his father have restored first folios of Shakespeare and a “codex” (an ancient manuscript) from Saint Catherine’s Monastery circa AD 800.

Preserving such books preserves history itself – something that’s even more important nowadays, says Smart, given the migration of books to the digital realm and the advent of AI. And while handcrafted bookbinding has declined as a viable full-time profession, so much so that even finding an apprentice is difficult, “There are still a lot of people out there who are collecting books for the history of the book, the knowledge [within them], putting libraries together.”

There’s a growing movement of physical-book lovers, too, including Gen Zers who have attended Smart’s bookbinding workshops, embracing the sustainability of the craft in an increasingly throwaway, consumerist culture. Skills they acquire may include restoring collectible pieces or family heirlooms – like the family bible Smart is currently working on – or stitching together a personal notebook.

This story has been edited and condensed for clarity. Read the original version in the Fall/Winter 2024 edition of driver magazine.

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