Envisioned by J. J. Abrams and written by Doug Dorst, S. is an interactive, multilayered story centered around a fictitious 1949 novel, The Ship of Theseus, and its enigmatic author, V. M. Straka. Straka’s secrets are revealed when two students find the book and begin unraveling its mysteries via notes they write back and forth to each other in the margins. The story is supplemented by 22 removable pieces of ephemera.

To produce the book, Melcher Media worked with Abrams and his team at Bad Robot, Dorst, designer Paul Kepple of Headcase Design, and our publishing partner, Mulholland Books.

Melcher Media was initially approached by Mulholland Books to produce S. as a physical object from a completed manuscript. The challenge was to create a book that was, in fact, two stories in one, while maintaining the authenticity of various time periods. The author and the publisher, Bad Robot and Mulholland respectively, wanted this to be a truly immersive experience. To this end, they emphasized how essential it was that S. feel authentic rather than contrived or gimmicky—readers needed to believe that they were in fact holding a book from 1949 in which two people from the present day were corresponding.

In order to execute J.J. Abrams and the publisher’s vision of an authentic experience for the reader, Melcher Media approached the challenge with our unique design sensibility and production experience. The collaboration with Headcase Design allowed us to elevate the project and surpass our expectations.

Immediately we decided that using real handwriting, rather than a handwriting font, would be essential to creating a realistic representation of S., even if that brought additional challenges to the table—literally writing a novel within the margins of another novel.

Coming up with format ideas and sourcing materials and art for the pieces of ephemera was another important aspect of Melcher Media’s involvement in the project. A sent postcard needed to look and feel like the real thing, right down to the stamping details; a photo from the mid-1900s had to have specific characteristics and coloring. For certain pieces, such as the café napkin with a map sketched onto it, we had to seek out specialized vendors. For all of them, it meant going through numerous rounds of designs, formats, paper samples, and proofs to find combinations that felt authentic.

Re-creating the look and feel of a novel from 1949 involved extensive background research. To maintain authenticity, we closely studied trim sizes, fonts, paper styles, and design aesthetics of that time period. We did the same careful research for each piece of ephemera.

Headcase Design created variations of yellowing and even mildewed pages throughout the book. The copyright information and credits were incorporated into a library check-out stamp at the back of the book, effectively maintaining the conceit of an old library book. The library sticker on the book’s spine even featured an authentic Dewey Decimal code.

We were forced to sacrifice some realism to make the book readable: To allow enough room for the handwritten notes, the margin widths were widened. Making things even more complicated was the fact that each typeset page of the novel had to be final before we could begin the handwriting process—text corrections later on might have moved lines of copy from one page to the next, forcing us to re-create entire handwritten conversations.

It took a number of rounds to finalize Eric and Jen's handwriting styles. The two styles had to be visually distinct enough to live on the page together without confusion, but they also needed to convey the distinct personalities of the characters. Ultimately, we decided on a cursive, unrestrained style for Jen and a block, rigid style for Eric.

Our process for executing the handwriting was as follows: We first printed out each designed page of the novel at actual size, then overlaid tracing paper onto each page, using crop marks to help us align the handwriting and keep it within printing boundaries. Each page of tracing paper was subsequently scanned and color corrected until we felt that everything looked as realistic as possible (e.g., the pencil needed to look faded but still legible; we wanted to maintain variations in ink flow, etc.). Once the color was right and all final text corrections were made, we placed the digital handwriting files over the novel’s pages.

Eric and Jen’s handwriting was completed in tandem, so that their exchanges could play off each other and we could use the margin space effectively and creatively. Their handwriting had to be both legible and realistic—we deliberately introduced errors, crossed out words, wrote at angles, and doodled, all the while maintaining a necessary degree of neatness and clarity. We also used a variety of pen colors, switching back and forth as necessary to indicate the different time periods when Jen and Eric were communicating.

The creation of an outside package for S. was essential, because it allowed a place for the authors’ names and marketing copy to live and doubled as a solution for keeping the ephemera from falling out of the book’s pages. This slipcase needed to have a contemporary design completely separate from the novel housed inside. The perforated sticker was designed to be a barrier between the two worlds—its breakage signaled the reader’s entrance into the experience of S.

Many have predicted the demise of the printed page in the digital age, but S. has been applauded as a reminder of the power of the printed word. The tactile experience of S.—from tearing open the outer sticker, to unfolding the napkin, to turning the dials of the Eötvös decoder wheel, to touching the book’s “mildewed” pages—cannot be adequately replicated in digital form.