I thought I would like this better than I did. I have a lack of knowledge both about printing and 15th century church history which made a lot of the book frustrating for me to understand. This lack of knowledge did prompt me to do some research so I could better understand the printing process (the author is a printer). ( )

Peter Schoeffer, scribe, thinks he has it made. He loves Paris, his adopted city, where the Seine smells “of chalk and stone, a sharp and thrilling city thriving.” At twenty-five, he sees a path upward, because the Church will pay for manuscripts penned in a fine hand such as his.

But in September 1450, his stepfather, a wealthy merchant and bookseller, summons him home to Mainz without saying why, and you sense Peter’s resentment at the peremptory recall.

The reason makes Peter feel even worse. He’s to accept an apprenticeship—at his age, with his accomplishments!—to aid an effort that feels both socially beneath him and blasphemous. But he can’t say no, because stepdad has raised him, educated him, and made him who he is. But to be shackled to a stinking, cellar workshop and its forge alongside half-educated smiths offends his pride and aesthetic soul. He’s also uncertain where he belongs socially, so he’s free to resent those above and below him.

Furthermore, and most important, his new master is Johann Gensfleisch, known as Gutenberg, who’s undertaken a sacrilegious project out of arrogant greed—to produce scores of books at once, selling holy texts for profit. No wonder that everyone’s sworn to secrecy, for if the Church found out, they’d seize everything and have the printers arrested.

Not just that; Gutenberg represents all that Peter has learned to detest. The master belongs to Mainz’s upper crust, called Elders, one of the thirty leading families who treat the city like a fiefdom. The Elders act hand-in-glove with the archbishop to bleed the merchants, guilds, and less exalted citizens for their own gain.

Consequently, that Peter’s stepfather has chosen to bankroll Gutenberg seems corrupt, and his own presence designed to keep an eye on stepdad’s investment—until the young scribe realizes how ruthless, manipulative, and controlling his new master is. Maybe Peter’s there as Gutenberg’s pawn against his chief creditor. In any case, Peter feels like a slave, with no respite from either quarter.

Even so, he admires artistic talent, and Gutenberg never lets anyone forget he’s a genius. Christie has done a terrific job rendering the era, the political machinations, and the process of printing as its inventors devise it on the fly. Most of her characters are historical figures, including Peter, and she reimagines them with flair and attention to detail. The scenes of fashioning, failure, and gradual surmounting of obstacles are as gripping as any; I never appreciated how difficult or painstaking it was to print a book in the fifteenth century, or how many years it took.

Peter’s coming-of-age story, in which his growing technical skill and innovative sense mirror his emotional maturation, works nicely. He also comes to terms with his religious objections to the project, gradually understanding that the Church’s presumed opposition derives partly from its role as sole representative of God on earth, so its guardianship of scribes has both economic and political significance. Reproduce religious texts that any literate person can read, and the printer not only makes scribes superfluous, individual people can seek God for themselves, a gauntlet thrown down to church power. Accordingly, this narrative foreshadows the Reformation, mere decades away.

At its best, Gutenberg’s Apprentice reads like a thriller. Tension arises from the need for secrecy, compromised by the length of time the project takes, the ever-increasing number of participants, and Gutenberg’s indiscretions—he’s constantly cutting deals with clerics and merchants, infuriating Peter’s stepfather and squeezing the young man between two powerful men he’s doomed to displease. Throughout, Christie captures the mindset, the strivings, and the fixation on social class.

In such a complicated narrative, it’s not always easy to penetrate the politics, despite Christie’s gift for depicting the power struggles. I’m also not persuaded, in a couple instances, that Peter would either forgive his stepfather his hard hand or feel warmly toward him; these crucial transitions seem rushed or simple.

But overall, Gutenberg’s Apprentice does what excellent historical fiction should do, and I highly recommend it. ( )

I'd read this again; it paints a vivid picture of working in the printing shop in Manz in the 1400s, and there's a fair amount of intrigue. ( )

Hesitating what rating to give this book. Looking at how interesting I found it, it deserves 3.5 stars, but taking into account how loooong it took me to read it and how boring I thought it was from time to time, I'm not giving it more than 3.
The book didn't sparkle, it didn't make the characters come to life while I was reading.
I did finish it, first of all because I dislike not finishing a book and secondly I wanted to know how it ended. And then the real end: what happened after the dedicated time they said it would take to print, the settling of affaires. I could have read the afterword, but then there would have been holes in my knowledge of the book.

I am happy to have come across this book and having the chance to learn a bit more about the start of the art of book printing. ( )

In her debut novel, Christie explores one of the most momentous events in history: the invention of the printing press. The author used the real people involved, researching historical documents to support way she imagined the scenario unfolding.

I generally like novels such as this one, but for some reason I had a very hard time getting engaged in this work. It took me nearly two weeks to read it, about double the amount of time I usually need for a 400-page book. I did find the information about the conflicts between the guilds, the ruling class, and the Church interesting, but it went on for so long that I grew tired of the political and personal intrigue, and by the time the climax came I didn’t much care what would happen to the relationships between the three central figures: Gutenberg, Fust, and Peter.

I have always read the notation at the end of print books, telling me what type face was used for that edition. That information holds new meaning for me now, as I imagine the original artist carefully carving the alphabet in a new design. In this age of digital print, it is all the more wonderful to imagine the creativity, skill and hard work that went into this marvelous invention. ( )