There is something useful about a notebook that doesn’t ask to be treated too carefully.
That’s one of the things that interests me about Uglybooks.
Where much of the stationery world emphasizes refinement—beautiful binding, perfect paper, objects that can almost feel too nice to write in—Uglybooks embraces something more immediate.
It’s a notebook intended to be used.
That distinction matters more than it initially seems. I’ve owned plenty of beautiful notebooks that remained mostly empty. Sometimes the nicer the object becomes, the more consequential the first mark feels.
A working notebook needs almost the opposite quality. It should encourage crossing things out, drawing badly, tearing through ideas, changing direction and generally making a mess.
Uglybooks also demonstrates how much personality can exist in an intentionally simple object. Small decisions about proportion, paper, color and presentation can make something recognizable without requiring much ornamentation.
**What I’m taking from it:** A notebook should create permission to use it. Utility, personality and imperfection aren’t necessarily at odds with thoughtful design.