A challenge to the old adage

Rebecca Hampson

I love those old books with the leather (or faux-leather, or fabric, or… etc) covers and thin pages that by smell alone make you feel magically smarter. They hold a certain gravitas, an unspoken understanding that with these dusty tomes comes a wealth of knowledge, a deep sense of history, and possibly some great fairytales.

But like everything once held sacred, the blaring consumerism of modernity has long controlled the aesthetics of newly published books. One is more likely, these days, to find neon colours, a tacky photograph and some big impact lettering on the cover of a book than a nice smell and some dust. Design is an increasingly important part of book publishing and marketing, but it seems to have fallen foul of the clichéd niche marketing of the books themselves – one can almost always identify a crime novel, for example, from the dark muted colours, the smoky imagery, perhaps a photograph of a weapon or a bloodied hand, and of course the large block font of the title.

Alternatively, to quote my editor, ‘if it is pastel colours with curly whimsical font and spindly illustration of a woman with high heels, then it’s probably chick-lit with a plot involving an accident-prone heroine who is in PR and is intimidated by all the thinner, flawless co-workers. And she probably falls in love with a ne’er do well, who is probably an aristocrat/celebrity, who treats her badly but she finally ends up with the good guy who has been keeping a benign eye on her all the way through.’

This just goes to show that you most certainly can judge a book by its cover, but is this a good thing? How many great reads have we missed out on because the inner snob has taken over at the sight of some cursive lettering? I myself make a beeline for those Penguin covers with the turquoise spines. I couldn’t say why I like these particular editions more than other Penguin editions, but I do, and I will read any book with the shiny turquoise spine. There’s something about familiar covers such as those that promote a certain air of dependability; a Penguin classic, for example, is always instantly recognisable whether by its original and iconic colour-block design or the newer editions. As publishers began to print better quality writing in the lowly paperback form, the need for the design element of publishing began to pick up speed, and covers such as the famous Penguin Classics were born. These particular covers are so famous and full of a certain vintage charm, that they are now available on mugs so that presumably one can feel smug and intellectual while having one’s morning tea.

These designs are not so much about aesthetics as they are about ease of recognition, the identification mark of a certain standard of literature and originally, simplicity in order to maintain accessibility. Indeed, as Alice Rawsthorn for the New York times wrote, ‘Design is part of Penguin’s heritage, although its original design ethos was inspired by its founder Allen Lane’s philanthropic zest to enlighten the masses, not by profitability.’ The colour-based covers were born from a simple idea for a simple system of identification; orange for fiction, blue for biography, purple for essays and green for crime.

The style and usage of book cover design has, since those early days, gone two main ways; art and advertisement. The great simplicity of Lane’s utilitarian Penguin covers is, for the most part, long in the past and these days book cover art is an important and progressive area of design with its fads and in-demand wonder kids like any other media. One book will do particularly well, get particular credit for its cover design, and the designer will shoot to prominence, no doubt spawning countless copycat designs. Jonathan Gray for example, who works under the name ‘gray318,’ is the designer responsible for, most notably, Jonathan Safran Foer’s novels Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and Everything Is Illuminated.

His work is, for the most part, pretty distinctive with its quirky use of calligraphy and collage-like images, and is part of the growing trend in edgier, more eye-catching cover design. This can be useful from a marketing perspective; a cover reminiscent of another, better known cover can create a link in the prospective reader’s mind. A sort of ‘if you liked that you’ll love this’ mentality that is in part responsible for the “it” designers and the similarities in design on the shelves. I was surprised, when researching Gray, to find countless blogs dedicated to the discussion and evaluation of book covers, both in their own right and as graphic design pieces. The Book Design review and http://covers.fwis.com/ are two major ones, updating regularly with up-to-date covers, reviews and analyses that take book cover design to a new level just through the amount of attention dedicated to it. This is a mark of how important this area of design has become to graphic design as a whole, with many designers forging entire careers consisting of mostly book design.

But of course book covers aren’t there simply for progression in the design field. Their original and primary function is a marketing one, and as mentioned before, this is largely about recognition, not of design itself, but of style. Pastel colours will appeal, with nothing more than a cursory glance, to fans of Bridget Jones or Shopaholic, whereas the literary snobs among us (closet or otherwise) are likely to be found hiding behind an obscure artsy cover or a vintage Penguin. Publishers need to be able to communicate what the basic premise of the book is about in the space of about a second, and this is most effectively done by employing the somewhat clichéd, uninspired covers that state genre and style above content and quality. This method has been employed lately by publishers aiming old classics at a larger audience, re-packaging and re-designing to create a new allure for an old product. Virago Press’s recent publication of Stella Gibbons’ (Cold Comfort Farm) Nightingale Wood, is a prime example of this.

Note the swirly, antiquated lettering, the fussy detail and pretty illustrated faces, looking remarkably like the famous accident-prone heroine and aristocratic ne’er do well. (He has a moustache, so…)

Re-packaging literature seems to be a pretty key tactic these days; if it’s not the classics-dressed-as-chick-lit mentioned above, then it’s old texts with luxurious and beautiful new designs, probably hardback, and probably in a matching set, that is clearly well worth the extra ten pounds because it’s just so pretty.

Anything, I suppose, to keep books moving off the shelves if content alone is no longer enough for the digital generation. Many would argue that with digital books and downloads on the rise, re-imagining the marketing and design of literature is essential to keep traditional books in business.

Unfortunately this leads to the view that cover design will continue to become more and more about selling, but this does not have to be at the expense of the artistry involved. Rather it perhaps generates the need for publishers to place a higher investment in design, keeping both aspects alive and mutually functional so that judging a book by its cover is a perfectly valid affair.

Interesting links:
http://covers.fwis.com/ – Great site for the discussion of covers.
http://nytimesbooks.blogspot.com/ – Blog with articles, reviews and information.
http://www.penguin.co.uk/static/cs/uk/0/minisites/mypenguin/index.html – Design your own book covers and see the designs of several celebrities.
http://gray318.com/index.html – Jonathan Gray’s website with information and examples of his work