Despite a multitude of books on the practical aspects of papermaking, printing, and binding, book artists owe a debt of gratitude to Peter and Donna Thomas for their willingness to bring out books that present the human story that can be so easily lost in this age of technology and meteoric change. I refer particularly to Beer Will Help Your Shake, published in 1990, followed by You Can't Make Paper From a Loofa, in 1991. The first book presents an interview with Harry Glanville of the Wookey Hole Paper Mill; the second, a picture of John Mason through an interview with Rigby Graham. (Both books were reviewed in Hand Papermaking, vol 9 no 1, Summer 1994.) Holt Mill Papers follows as a natural continuation, in that it documents more of Rigby Graham's recollections of papermaking with John Mason in the 1960s. It is separated from this logical grouping, however, by its large size, which might require it to be stored either on the wall as an art piece, or in a flat case. Peter Thomas writes: This book was first exhibited in the Netherlands. As I looked at it with Marilyn Sward during the opening, she told me I should have titled it Dangerously Close to Art. I only wished it was not too late to change the title, for it summed up many of my goals in producing this book. I wanted to make a book that was more a work of art than a book of text... In this, he has succeeded. At the outset I must declare my librarian prejudice towards "books". To be deeply informed, moved, or inspired by a text while also acknowledging the beauty, artistry, and "feel" of the whole piece--this I prize in a book. This work can be approached from two directions: as an art piece or as an informative and entertaining text. To my mind, there is a definite dichotomy. As offered by the creators, Peter and Donna Thomas, it provides an option as framed, two-dimensional wall art (in its more expensive edition) or, unframed, as a book to be read. To be viewed as an art piece, Thomas conceived of the idea of creating a frame that would allow the book to either be slid into a bookcase or hung on a wall. In hanging on the wall it is perceived as art, and the viewer is pleasantly confounded when they find it is also a book. Let me consider this first as an art piece, in a simple frame of polished light wood. Visually a delight, it could be hung on either a vertical or horizontal axis. John Babcock created the handmade paper board covers. While the back cover is a textured charcoal black, the front cover, with its colors of earth and sky, echoes a process used by Rigby Graham at the Holt Mill, of adding colored pulp to a base sheet. The coptic-style binding, which allows this large book to be opened effortlessly, also permits it to fit smoothly into the frame. I confess that I value a book primarily as text; with this work, as art, barriers are set up between me and the text, even though the barrier is fine art. Does the message inside the covers matter, clamped shut by polished wood and hung on a wall? I believe the message is lost. In creating a really lovely and visually attractive work, the Thomases have inserted themselves too much between Graham, an uncompromising communicator as an artist and as a writer, and his communication, by imposing their own creative skills in an aesthetic overload. As a work of fine printing and design, this is an object of beauty. The paper, handmade by Peter Thomas of cotton rag and a few other fibers, a soft shade of muted green, reminiscent of the fields around Leicester where Holt Mill was situated, is wonderful to the touch. The Centaur type and the illustrations bite into this fine paper with just the right authority. The use of a rainbow roll for printing the text was something new to me. At first it startled me and I thought I had a mis-inked copy. (The term "rainbow" is somewhat misleading as the ink tones shade imperceptibly from dark blue to a fresh green.) Peter Thomas explains: As the text was germinal to the book art work, I realized it had to be dealt with in a considered manner. After reflection I came up with the idea of using a rainbow roll of the type, so that even though there were huge forms of type, because of the changing colors, each page would have new visual interest. Only the type has the varying color; the illustrations had a separate press run. After spending much time going over and over the few pages of text, I began to feel a life and energy in the page, a dimension I might have missed if it had been printed in one color. The book is very large, no doubt arrived at because of the emphasis on art, as the text written by Graham occupies just three pages. Among the illustrations, those on the third page of text suggest another possible justification for the size of the work; two line drawings, one directly below the other, skillfully convey a story told in the text, of the disastrous result of pressing wet paper upstairs in an old house, the water dripping through to the bedroom downstairs, where two unsuspecting people are seen sleeping. The size might also have been determined to accommodate and set off properly the sheets of paper produced in 1959 for a planned edition of a book about the Mill, by Toni Savage and Rigby Graham, which they never completed. Naturally these sheets are 8 x 12, for John Mason. Each copy includes two sheets of paper produced at the Holt Mill, with the fibers identified. In one copy I viewed, one sheet was made from nettles and the other from grass clippings. My primary personal interest in this book is for the information provided by Rigby Graham, both in text and illustration. Detailed illustrations, in a few lines, bring the informative text to full life. We receive a marvelous glimpse of a truly great artist who continues to press against the unknown limits of his imagination. Rigby Graham covered the entire renaissance period of papermaking and letterpress printing, starting just after World War II. Graham is both a consummately disciplined artist and a great teller of stories. The text focuses more on the people connected to the mill than its actual operation. Graham affectionately sums up John Mason as follows: "...an enthusiast and an entertainer...Mason also likened papermaking to cooking, but never realized he had put too much yeast into the dough." The essay continues with a short paragraph on material and equipment, painting an irresistible word picture. At times their efforts were an al fresco operation: "Late summer and early autumn the Holt Mill operated in the woods. Collected materials were boiled in caustic soda over an open fire and we roasted potatoes at the same time. The pulp steamed, as did the coffee pot." Three unusual terms appear in this short essay: "silurian paper", "nylon paper", and "thread pictures". A description of the first two is given in John Mason's book, Papermaking As An Artistic Craft; Graham outlines here, in some detail, his venture into thread pictures. He made hundreds of these while he worked with John Mason, but none were saved to be included in this book. (However, Donna Thomas has created several unique thread pictures, included in the special edition.) The colophon includes a quotation by Graham: Dusky summer evenings find us at work, often by candlelight with few visitors to stand and wonder save for the endless swarms of gnats who drown alike in pulp and coffee. The only constant admirer is an operatic tenor who, to the boiling and bubbling, adds the charm of Donizetti arias and generally hinders the already slow process. This anonymous tenor was the late Toni Savage, the friend who worked on the original, never-completed Holt Mill book. Graham recently produced a small book in memory of this operatic tenor, printer, and friend. Holt Mill Papers should appeal to anyone in the book arts. The effective binding adds a visual quality which does not detract in any way from the art of the cover paper. The printing is sharp, clear, deep, and well-balanced without being pedestrian, and the use of the rainbow roll is an intriguing technique. The text, clear and flowing, brings to life a wide range of people and activities, and a sense of place and time which takes you right into the Holt Mill scene. With all this, I would still ask for more; a melding of all aspects into a seamless whole.