The book brings together researchers from the fields of typography, palaeography and incunabula studies, with a particular focus on type and letterforms. The relatively understudied period – after Gutenberg and before the consolidation of Jenson’s model – extends from the earliest traces of ‘humanistic’ tendencies to ‘pure’ roman type, including many cases of uncertain or experimental design, voluntary hybridisation and proto- or archaic roman. In 1459 in Mainz, Johann Fust and Peter Schöffer printed the Rationale Divinorum Officiorum by Guillaume Durand, using a typeface (now known as ‘Durandus’) that looked like no other before. From that point, we can follow a wide variety of developments, partly related to the travels of early printers from the Rhine area to Italy and France. By extension, the private press movement initiated by William Morris and Emery Walker at the end of the nineteenth century in England, revived some of those typefaces before they were once more largely forgotten.

Pedagogical materiality covers all media, tools, objects, toys and devices dedicated to the transmission of knowledge. In short, all the ‘things' which accompany educational activity, regardless of the place in which it occurs. Because this materiality is expressed in terms of properties perceptible through the senses, its uses are particularly popular throughout the pre-school period and in early-learning methods. Éloïsa Pérez's essay discusses examples from the early 19th century until today. It is structured in three parts: constructing (the letter), guiding (the movement through trajectory and tracing) and composing (the word). The pamphlet is accompanied by the edition of an exclusive capital lettering template and two postcards. Edited by Alice Savoie and Jérôme Knebusch in the Poem Pamphlet series. Translated into English by Nigel Briggs.

Of the display typefaces Rudolf Koch designed, Neuland may have received the most use abroad. But how was it made? A 1922 letter Koch sent to Ernst Kellner provides more questions than answers, and designers have speculated for almost half a century about whether Koch really cut its punches without any preparation. Dan Reynolds’s essay reviews these textual sources, comparing them with surviving process material preserved in the Klingspor Museum and elsewhere. Written by Dan Reynolds and edited by Alice Savoie and Jérôme Knebusch in the Poem Pamphlet series.

In the mid-nineteenth century, the French Ministry of the Navy ordered all fishermen to register with local authorities. Drifter boats and sardine luggers were henceforth required to sport a clearly visible number and initial letter on their bows and sails, in order to help the gendarmes identify them. Boat numbers followed a consistent ‘Didot’ style until the mid-1880s before they began to shift. Blackletter initials occasionally popped up on hulls, as did ornamental squares or diamonds. Rounded letters opened up to the point of illegibility, ending in assertive ball terminals and spectacular bifurcations (or ‘barbs’) appeared at the feet of numerals with vertical stems. According to some old seadogs, the alphabet à barbes was invented to make the figures ‘favourable for fishing’ and to bring good fortune. But other witnesses rejected this superstitious idea. Far from being incompatible, these viewpoints provide insights into the varied perspectives of seafarers. Written by Yoann De Roeck and edited by Alice Savoie and Jérôme Knebusch in the Poem Pamphlet series.