I’m torn. I relate to the author re the deplorable state of modern book production (they had no idea how much worse it would get after 80 more years), but most of the book is so much pretentious blathering on.
I’m torn. On the one hand, this is a fascinating look into the mind of early 20th century fine press collectors. In particular, given modern love of hand-made works, I found it interesting that the book explicitly calls for enjoying the fruits of modern machinery rather than prioritizing handmade. In addition, there’s a clear love of books that pervades the work. However, I’m not sure that interesting look and love of books outweighs the dated and heavily elitist message that pervades it.