I judge books by their covers!
I can’t help it, they are so… so… well… manipulative!
The best covers know exactly how to attract the eye, they know how to express themselves – some are warm and cuddly, some dark and mysterious, some are just beautiful and make you fall in love with them. I could almost marry some covers.
The ones that get me most often are the ones that suggest there’s a better life just within reach. These covers reach right into me and press the ‘green with envy button’.
I want it. All of it. Now. Gimmie!
What do I want?
It. That indefinable other which can never be had.
Book covers. The provocative, the enticing, the deceitful and the delicious. They play havoc with my emotions.
A picture of a woman on a jetty – it’s just a suggestion, a splash of light and colour – my brain does the rest, it creates a world around this cover. For a moment I capture the ease and beauty of a better world… and then it goes. Poof!
But now I own the book and must go beyond its cover to see whether the cover designer was honest, to see whether I receive what was promised. Sometimes I discover that the designer cannot have read the book and I have been tricked. Other times, the designer has failed for other reasons.
I used to know a grumpy bookseller who used to say that the only Art left in modern book publishing was to be found in the cover design. He would then add, ’cause there certainly isn’t any Art in the writing!
For too many years book covers were uninspired, dull, dark, or uniformly garish.
I believe modern writing has, in a way, broken free of the book, as it was.