People throw around the idiom, "Never judge a book by its cover," a lot when you are growing up. You probably heard your parents use it when you started kindergarten, or middle school, high school, college and beyond. It is sound social advice: don't look at people's appearances and assume you know what a person is like. But the issue with this idiom is that we, more often than not, literally judge books by their cover.
If you walk into a bookstore or library looking for a book, perhaps more than recommendations or your own personal taste, book covers most influence what we read. And why not? When it comes to culture, our eyes are predisposed to appreciating aesthetics.
Publishers understand this. It is one of the easiest marketing shortcuts, since it ideally sums up the entire book you are picking up. A few months ago, I was shopping in Barnes and Noble, and while perusing the stacks I came upon a new section: "Teen Paranormal Romance." True, I shielded my eyes and retreated to the bulwark of the "Fiction and Literature" section, but it was fascinating to see all the covers on display: teen girls in red and black, scowling or looking off into the distance of a bleak dark landscape, sometimes with a pouty, impeccably hunky vampire/werewolf/sorcerer in the background.
I thought most of them were horrendous-I still do-but upon reflection I understood them. They catered to a very specific audience (young, paranormal-enamored female teens and, possibly, their vicarious mothers) and they catered very well. They were the kind of books meant to be seen-read, perhaps more than just read-read.
This is by no means isolated. The Harry Potter series was almost inseparably tied up with its cover art. Kids delighted at seeing what situation Harry and company were caught up in this time (ie.g. Harry and Hermione astride the hippogriff in "The Prisoner of Azkaban," Harry facing down Voldemort on the cover of "The Deathly Hallows"). And other popular series, such as "Twilight," "The Hunger Games," and "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" books, have covers which have ingrained themselves into our culture.
And it is not just for kids either. At any bookstore, it is impossible not to run into snazzy books decked up with famous paintings or otherwise high-grade art on the cover. The Penguin Classics series, for instance, with their paintings set in black with white text, are some of the prettiest paperbacks currently selling. And innumerable older authors (Austen, Dickens, Hugo, Chekhov, Cervantes, etc.) are regularly re-released with updated packaging on different imprints.
It has its drawbacks, however. There is the temptation to pick up a book based on the cover alone, or worse, for the cover to distort the merits of the book. Say what you will about the image of Colette staring sadly at the audience, if you pick up an unabridged copy of "Les Misérables"-except a lot of notes on the Parisian sewer system-it is certainly not as riveting as the musical. The same principle applies for older books, which may just have the name, or no cover art at all. We may inadvertently pass over them.
Book covers are meant to capture our attention, whether or not we think the books have merit. At best, a book cover can provide another dimension to the work, an image which lasts as you read it. In addition to the aforementioned "Hunger Games" and "Dragon Tattoo" books, two other book covers are integral to the stories they hold: "The Great Gatsby" and "The Catcher in the Rye." Whether this was your favorite book in high school English or the bane of your existence, the covers worked as art because they complemented the books: the forlorn, formless face with the nude eyes on "Gatsby" and the whirring, flaming merry-go-round horse of "Catcher." When setting the gold standard of book covers worth judging, these two classics are a good place to start.
Seen-read a book you loved lately? Send Sean a PDF of the cover art to sreichard@wisc.edu.
