At Robinwood Elementary, we were judged on how well we played well with our classmates. The grades were simply “S” for “satisfactory, or “U” for “unsatisfactory.”
They didn’t have a “U-minus” grade, but I am certain that I earned it.
I’ve never been a team player. It’s why I love woodworking, writing, music and cooking. They are singular pursuits that your pursue without relying on others. I hate relying on other people.
So I have to let you know that with “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” I let my guard down a bit.
Throughout the entire process of this book, from conception to birth canal (which is where we are now) I leaned heavily on the advice of Narayan Nayar, a friend of mine from Chicago. He has guided me through every stage of this book. And I really mean every stage.
He pushed me to rewrite key sections of the book three times. He designed the templates that determined the design of the book, which I am quite pleased with. He took the photos that open the 20 chapters and spent days and days styling them in Photoshop.
And he helped guide this book, which is my longest and most complex work to date, through the difficult production process.
As I write this, the hard-copy proof of the book is on its way here for final approval. I’m going to have to sign the papers saying that it’s good and ready for press. But the only approval that means anything is Narayan’s.
I could be wrong when I say this, but the reason I think I was willing and happy to work with him is that he is just as demanding as I am. Perhaps even more so.
So when your copy of this book arrives, if it looks and reads better than my previous works, now you know why.
Though building furniture in our workshops might seem like a quaint skill, it actually is a radical act in the modern consumerist age – where furniture is tossed to the curb at a whim.
“The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” is the story of how I came to realize this during my 15 years as an editor at Popular Woodworking Magazine, and how this small revelation changed the way I approach the craft, my tools and my shop. Here’s what I did:
• After researching lists of the core tools one needs to build furniture that were published from 1678 to 1973, I made a list of the 48 hand tools that are essential. I sold off the unnecessary tools in my kit and focused my efforts on fewer – but higher quality – tools.
• I built a traditional tool chest to house these tools that is based on research into historical chests and my experience of working out of two traditional chests for the last 14 years. Modern chests, I found, are poorly designed, too small and painful to use. So I created a list of the 13 rules for building chests that will result in something that really works. Many of these rules will surprise you. An example: You should always nail the bottom of the chest to the shell.
• I wrote this book to help other woodworkers assemble an ideal first tool kit – or modify their existing tool set to have fewer, better-quality tools.
“The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” is divided into three sections:
1. A deep discussion of the 48 core tools that will help readers select a tool that is well-made – regardless of brand name or if it’s vintage or new. This book doesn’t deal with brands of tools. Instead it teaches you to evaluate a well-made tool, no matter when or where it was manufactured. There also is a list of the 24 “good-to-have” tools you can add to your kit once you have your core working set.
2. A thorough discussion of tool chests, plus plans and step-by-step instructions for building one. The book shows you how to design a chest around your tools and how to perform all the common operations for building it. Plus, there are complete construction drawings for the chest I built for myself.
3. There also is a brief dip into the philosophy of craft, and I gently make the case that all woodworkers are “aesthetic anarchists.”
As always, this book is being printed in the United States on high-quality paper with a permanent binding. It will not be sold through any mass-market channels such as Amazon, Borders or Barnes & Noble. The book will be available for shipment at the end of May 2011 though our web site, Lee Valley Tools, Lie-Nielsen Toolworks and Tools for Working Wood.
The retail price is $37. Within the next week we will start accepting preorders, which will receive free shipping in the United States. Once the book is received in our warehouse (my basement), we will charge shipping. All books ordered from us will be autographed.
We also will offer a short run of leather-bound editions of this book. We are ordering just enough to offer 26 lettered and signed editions that will be hand-bound by Ohio Book, which bound “The Joiner & Cabinet Maker.” Details and pricing on the leather edition will be available in June.
Technical specifications:
Pages: 480
Format: 6” x 9”
Cover: Linen over 98-point hard boards
Paper/Binding: 60# acid-free paper, Smythe sewn, casebound
Printed in the United States (Pennsylvania)
Last night I dragged myself home after the Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Event in our office, laced up my running shoes and set out on a three-mile run. It turned out to be a ghostly sprint through the neighborhood.
It was about 10 p.m., and a wild wind and drenching rain convinced me to wear a hat and pull my sweatshirt’s hood around my face. As I was stupidly pushing through this weather I kept seeing brief flashes of white off to the side from the porthole of my hood.
After the third white thing, which I had to jump over, I slowed my pace a bit to see what the hell these white things were. After running by a couple more houses, I got my answer.
They were white pressboard pieces of furniture that my neighbors had dragged to the curb for “large-item pickup day.” It’s a twice-annual event in our town, when you can drag almost anything to the curb and the city’s garbage contractors will pick it up without complaint. Couches, beds, lawnmowers are common.
But even more common are these furniture-shaped objects made from crappy white melamine.
They are usually broken in some small way. There might be a bunch of white drawers on top of them. And they are everywhere. I counted 12 more on the remainder of my run.
And as I slowed my pace in front of our house I was soaked and disappointed as I thought how my neighbors would be off to Target to buy some slightly more fashionable melamine things that I’d have to leap over in another couple years.
We have nothing at our curb for large-item pickup day. I opened my front and was greeted by the sight of the bookcase I finished last month for our front room.
The year that my book on workbenches came out I had a conversation with one of the editors of a competing magazine.
“Nice work,” he said about the book. “I guess you’re done.”
I must have looked confused, distressed or constipated because he continued on with his explanation.
He said something like this: Most writers in any field – be it woodworking, haberdashery or animal husbandry – get only one really good idea during their lifetimes. The rest of their lives are spent re-casting that same idea and repeating it until no one else will listen.
I was horrified.
I thought I would have perhaps two ideas in my lifetime. One on woodworking. And one on dinosaurs.
It’s been four years since that conversation. And with “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” about to go to press, that little chat is weighing heavy on my mind.
In the famous words of Westley: “Get used to disappointment.”
This week I am finishing the layout chores for “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” and we are on schedule to send it to the printer on April 15. Barring a plague of locusts, that means the book should be shipping the first week of June.
I’ve spent the last 14 months writing this book, and all I can say is that I cannot discern if it’s something worth reading or a stinking turd. I’m too close to it.
I can say that during the last couple months, I’ve given three presentations about the content of the book with mixed results. My favorite reaction to the content was at the Northeastern Woodworkers Association’s Showcase in Saratoga Springs, N.Y. It went something like this:
Him: Why would anyone want to use a tool chest when you can put your tools on the wall?
Me: A chest protects tools from dust.
Him: But having them on the wall is so much better. You can get them so much easier.
Me: But they will get dusty. Dust has salt in it, which attracts moisture.
Him: A chest is a dumb idea.
Me: OK.
Him: Really. A wall rack is better than a chest.
Me: OK.
Him: Really, a chest? Dumb.
The funny thing about the above conversation (and about a dozen more like it) is that “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” is not a book that is going to try to talk you into building a traditional tool chest. Yes, I cover the topic in great detail. I spent months studying traditional chests and have about 13 years experience using one.
Yes, there are complete plans for the chest. Yes, I really like my chest. And yes, I think that a proper tool chest is a great thing for your shop.
But I will be surprised if more than a handful of people actually build this chest. That’s because the tool chest is actually a metaphor for what this book is really about: Assembling a reasonable kit of tools so you can be a woodworker instead of a budding tool collector.
Oh, and it’s about cheese, craft beer and micro-farming.
But let’s say you just want to build a tool chest. Should you buy this book? Nah. In fact, I’ve boiled down the entire content of the book into a one-page .pdf that you can download by clicking here.