Reading and TypographyTypographic design is an activity which most readers would prefer not to have to define,
since it involves asking what makes the printed page actually work for themselves. The
process of becoming literate progressively relegates the mechanics of typography to the
subconscious, and the only reason for delving into it here is to reveal how relatively
straightforward it is for the designer to ‘lay down a trail’ which will be followed
unerringly through reading and reference. Robert Escarpit offers a philosophical
synthesis which supports a designer’s view of these matters, but there is space here for
only one key passage from his extended argument: ‘Reading reactivates the sound
content as well as the intellectual content, but the two reactivations do not necessarily
coincide or coexist. The letter as a “delayed speech tool” can very well be separated from
the letter as an “information tool” (Escarpit 1966:31–32).
For the child at the point of learning to read, the word is an arrangement of single
characters, like the carriages of a toy train, to be put in the right order by trial and
error; to get the sum of the letters right and only later to deduce the more familiar words
from their massed effect. For this reason the space between letters should be uniform,
that is to say rarely increased or reduced from that set as standard by the typeface
manufacturer (early ‘Monotype’ hot metal specimens are easily found and provide an
excellent guide), and word spacing should be particularly even and only slightly more
generous than for adult use.
I want to sound a note of caution here, because it is not always realised that
typesetters frequently modify their parameters to meet advertising preferences in text
composition, which are seldom in tune with the best requirements for continuous
reading. For many years the fit of letters and words has been far too close for optimum
legibility, and the pendulum now seems set to swing over far in the opposite direction.
The habituation argument (Burt 1959, and other mainstream studies)—that we read
best what we are most exposed to—is of course a strong one; but there are certain
danger signals for all to detect. For example, wherever adjoining letters or punctuation
actually touch or fuse, or misreadings are caused by quirky spacing or word breaks,
then typographic malpractice is sure to be reducing the ease of reading.
Unfortunately it has to be pointed out that the lobby that would put the reader first—
despite being the custodian of a 6,000-year-old tradition of the book—is a small one in
terms of the communications industry where trends in typographic systems, software
and fashion are set by agencies and magazine publishers whose criteria for the use of
type are different. It is for this reason as much as any that sans serif and other
monotonous typefaces are still sometimes wrongly specified for lengthy texts, and why
unsuitable column widths are adopted, either for ragged or justified setting.
Many of these type designs and typesetting conventions are not necessarily bad in
themselves, and there are certain book contexts in which they may yield the best
solution, but great judgement is called for in these areas. From time to time reading
matter may be dressed up in formats with which children are assumed to be more
familiar—for instance a textbook may be disguised as a magazine or comic —and such
experiments in presentation (extended in a different direction by graphic novels) may
work provided writer and editor can sustain a sufficiently high level of input. Book
designers relish well-conceived experiments of this kind; but they should always be
CHILDREN’S BOOK DESIGN 457