Quarto
KWOR-toh
A book size created by folding a sheet of paper twice to create four leaves (eight pages); historically important as the format for early printed plays and poems, now generally indicating a larger-than-standard format book.
Origin
From Latin "in quarto" (in a fourth), referring to the sheet being folded into a quarter of its original size. The abbreviation "4to" is used in bibliographic descriptions.
In context
Many of Shakespeare's plays were first published in quarto editions — small, cheap pamphlets printed for a popular audience.
The art book was a large quarto, too big for the standard shelf and stored lying flat.
The distinction between quarto and folio mattered enormously to Elizabethan booksellers; today it mainly helps explain why some pages are bigger than others.
Did you know?
The "Bad Quartos" of Shakespeare's plays — editions published apparently from memory or shorthand notes taken at performances — are one of the great mysteries of literary history. The texts differ significantly from the First Folio versions, leading to centuries of scholarly debate about which versions are "authentic." Some scholars now argue the quartos represent legitimate performance texts rather than pirated corruptions.
A quarto is a sheet of paper folded twice, producing four leaves and eight pages — half the size of a folio, a manageable format for relatively quick and cheap printing. In the hierarchy of early book formats, quarto occupied the middle ground: larger than a pocket octavo, smaller than the prestigious folio. It was the format for works that needed to be accessible — popular entertainment, pamphlets, plays — rather than authoritative reference. When Elizabethan and Jacobean playwrights' works were printed for popular sale, they typically appeared in quartos: small, affordable, not especially durable, but readable by anyone who could afford a penny or two.
The Shakespeare quartos are the most studied examples. Eighteen of Shakespeare's plays were printed in quarto form during his lifetime or shortly after, in editions that sometimes differed significantly from the versions that later appeared in the 1623 First Folio. The "good quartos" — presumably printed from reliable manuscripts — are generally close to the Folio texts. The "bad quartos" — Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, The Merry Wives of Windsor among them — contain texts that are shorter, sometimes garbled, and clearly different in origin. The source of the bad quartos has been debated for centuries: unauthorized publication from actors' memories? Shorthand notes taken at performance? Corrupt manuscripts? Each theory has its defenders, and the question shapes how editors and directors approach these plays today.
In modern bookselling, "quarto" has largely lost its technical meaning and become a size descriptor. A "large quarto" or "quarto-sized" book typically means something larger than a standard novel but smaller than a coffee table book — roughly 10 by 12 inches, the size associated with art books, oversized illustrated works, and certain academic publications. These books present the same shelving challenge as any oversize volume: they often don't fit on standard shelves and need to be stored lying flat, which affects how a library is organized and whether the book gets browsed or ignored.
The physical experience of a quarto-sized book is worth thinking about. A large-format illustrated volume demands to be opened on a table or held in both hands. It changes your posture and your pace. The images have room to breathe; the text doesn't compete for space with the illustrations. This is why art books, photography collections, and monographs are printed in larger formats: the size is part of the argument the book is making about the images it contains. A reproduction of a painting printed at five inches square is a document; printed at twelve inches square, it begins to approximate the experience of standing in front of the original.
Format and content have always been in conversation. The quarto's history — from cheap Elizabethan pamphlet to serious art monograph — illustrates how the same physical format can carry different cultural meanings in different eras. What stays constant is the invitation the format makes to a particular kind of reading: slower, more attentive to the physical object, more aware of the page as a designed surface.