In the alleyway behind Al Azhar mosque, at the back of a Mamluk building filled with jewel-coloured books, Yasser Abdelzaher touches the lettering stamp heating on the open fire, his fingertips monitoring the temperature. Once hot enough, he weaves a ribbon of gold leaf, deftly embossing it onto the spine of a leather book. This is how it has been done for generations in the last traditional bookbinder workshop in Cairo.
“My grandfather Abdelzaher Ibrahim started working here for a man called Hag Ali Hegab in 1936,” Yasser Abdelzaher tells
Today the atelier remains a family operation run by Abdelzaher Ibrahim’s grandchildren. Yasser Abdelzaher guilds the books and runs the historic store while Hassan and Huda Abdelzaher oversee the small team in the nearby workshop.
It is in this backstreet workshop full of cigarette smoke and old Egyptian songs playing on the radio where books are French-bound using the same process for the last 88 years.
“After sewing the papers, the bookbinding itself takes forty different steps,” explains Yasser Abdelzaher. “We only use one machine (an antique iron lever guillotine) for cutting the paper.”
Six men work in unison, each focused on a different task; cutting leather, glueing boards and hammering spines. Some men have been at the workshop for more than 25 years now, while others are school leavers barely aged seventeen, honouring the traditional master-apprentice system.
“The older workers train the younger ones who then take over from them when they retire,” says Hassan Abdelzaher.
Through this way, the craft of bookbinding is passed down from one generation to the next, beyond the atelier and even the country — former workers have moved on to binding books for businesses both in Egypt and in the Gulf.
As for traditional bookbinding, only Abdelzaher’s atelier remains after another legacy binder Wahib & Co. switched to selling safety deposit boxes more than a decade ago. The once bustling bookbinding district has now dwindled to a few bookshops selling cheap vinyl hardbacks.
Heritage crafts have long been in decline in Egypt, with many such as glassblowing, weaving and pottery facing extinction. Though partly due to the availability of cheap mass-produced factory goods, for some crafts there simply is no more demand.
“People don’t read like before and aren’t interested in getting their books bound,” says Yasser Abdelzaher, explaining that when sales started to drop his father decided to use their traditional techniques to make notebooks.
“In 1997 we started making notebooks with covers the same way we have always bound books. We didn’t follow the market and use machines which reduce the quality. We are the only ones who make notebooks like this with genuine leather and that’s why people buy from us.”
While Abdelzaher’s atelier still rebinds treasured old editions and Qurans, the majority of sales come from their now expanded range of notebooks, sketchbooks and photo albums.
Collaborations with local artists line the shop’s engraved wooden shelves, including calligraphy and ceramics, through which Yasser Abdelzaher says they try to support other artisans.
One of the atelier’s bestsellers is the notebooks on which an artist neighbour has hand-painted scenes of old Egypt.
Community is also found online in the form of traditional bookbinding groups on social media. Yasser Abdelzaher points to a stacked hexagonal jewellery box, a design given to him by a Mexican bookbinder on Facebook. “We help each other and give each other ideas,” he says.
Other initiatives come from the fourth generation, with nephew Mostafa Abdelzaher teaching himself the ebru art that features on many of the atelier’s products. A water painting technique from Turkey that is relatively unknown in Egypt, Mostafa Abdelzaher now makes large-scale ebru paintings that are cut up and used for decoration.
“Before we used to import these papers from France but now Mostafa makes all our ebru papers and even exports them to Europe,” Yasser says.
Despite the family’s resourcefulness other challenges remain, including finding replacements for their traditional tools. The decline of bookbinding means many of the tools and materials needed are unavailable. Yasser Abdelzaher pulls out draw after draw of lettered stamps, each housing a complete font.
“These lead stamps don’t exist anymore but we need to replace them. Sometimes they start to melt in the fire if you leave them too long. I am trying to have our stamps made in brass but it is very expensive since they are made per piece, and we will need many stamps, especially for Arabic where each letter has a different shape depending on where it is in the word,” he explains.
While the goatskin leather has always been sourced from Qirabiyya Street, other materials, such as heavyweight cream paper, are imported from France and Italy, since they are of a higher quality than local alternatives. Though this increases their prices, the family believe that quality above all else has been crucial to the atelier’s survival.
Yasser Abdelzaher advises those working in heritage crafts to invest in premium, long-lasting materials. “There is no point in doing beautiful handwork if it is with cheap material. Good quality is the only way people will want to buy your products.”
Previously those customers were mainly tourists who visited the shop due to its location near the famous Khan al Khalili bazaar, but over the last two years, there has been an influx of Egyptian customers thanks to bloggers and influencers featuring the atelier on TikTok and Instagram. Now Yasser Abdelzaher wants to focus on the local market.
“We have tried to lower prices so they are more affordable for Egyptians,” he says, explaining that the current economic crisis means that while many locals appreciate handmade craft it is often too expensive.
A group of Lebanese tourists enter the shop, debating which size and colour notebook to choose. Mariam Abboud says she found out about the bookshop from a TikTok reel and now visits every time she comes to Egypt. She and her family gather in the back of the shop as Yasser Abdelzaher sets up the letters and heats the stamp in the fire.
They silently watch the third-generation artisan as he embosses each book in a swift practised motion.
It is this appreciation for the craft that the family hopes will help the atelier continue to thrive for the next few generations.
Sara Amara is a British-Egyptian independent journalist based in Oman, the UAE, and Egypt. She has written for the Times of Oman, Index on Censorship, and Comic Relief, and is also a former press writer for the London-based organisation Rich Visions
Follow her on Instagram: @saraxamara
