STACKED

books

Once Upon a Time in the North, by Philip Pullman

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I’ve mentioned before how much I love Philip Pullman and his trilogy His Dark Materials, so it comes as no surprise that I went into reading Once Upon a Time in the North knowing that I would love it. A few years ago, Pullman published a little red volume called Lyra’s Oxford, a companion to the trilogy that told a short story about Lyra set a few years after the events of the last book took place. Once Upon a Time in the North is a similar companion book, a little blue volume that tells a sort of prequel to the famous trilogy, focusing upon Lee Scoresby (the aeronaut from the country of Texas – Mr. Pullman knows how to flatter us Texans!) and how he came to befriend the great armored bear, Iorek Byrnison. The story is essentially an adventure tale about a corrupt politician, a greedy oilman, a seedy bar, a few hired killers, two pretty but very different ladies, and the cowboy who gets embroiled in it all. It has a distinctive Old West flavor (despite being set in the far, frigid North) and is written with the considerable level of skill I’ve come to expect from Pullman. This book is a treat for fans of His Dark Materials, who finally get to see how two of the most pivotal characters met each other. It’s also heartwrenching at one point, when Pullman makes reference to an event that will happen much, much later.

The story is only about a hundred pages, so naturally it left me wanting more. Still, it was a good way to tide me over until The Book of Dust is published (hopefully sometime before I die), and I’ve read there will be a third little green volume that tells Will’s story.

While I love audiobooks, listening to these books on CD would be unconscionable. Once Upon a Time in the North is a beautifully-made book, and it’s chock full of “extras” that require hands-on reading. Aside from the short story, the reader is also treated to two letters from Lyra concerning her doctoral dissertation, snippets from a manual on aeronautics, beautiful woodcuts by John Lawrence, and an honest-to-goodness board game in a pocket at the back, which I am going to coerce someone to play with me very soon. It has thick, high-quality paper and is all wrapped up in a beautiful cloth cover. It’s a perfect complement to Lyra’s Oxford, which contains similar extras, including woodcuts by Lawrence and a postcard from Mary Malone. Instead of a board game, the story about Lyra features a beautiful fold-out map of the alternate universe Oxford in which Lyra lives (pictured to the right). I have always loved the tactile feel of a book, but these volumes take my love to another level.

I’m interested to see how libraries deal with books such as these. At the library where I work, the copy of Lyra’s Oxford includes the fold-out map, but the copy of Once Upon a Time in the North does not include the board game. My local library, on the other hand, retains the board game as well as the map for patrons. I haven’t been able to get my hands on the library copy, so I don’t know if all the pieces in the game are still there or if the map has been torn.

I’ve always loved the extras that books sometimes have. When I was very into epic fantasy as a teenager, I’d pick the book with the map on the endpages over the book without the map every time. I especially loved it when the author’s world was so intricate and detailed, it merited a glossary at the back. Is there a particular book you’ve read where the extras really enhanced your enjoyment? How does your library handle books with easily torn components or parts that are easily stolen/lost?

Why covers matter

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Although we’ve all heard the adage that you shouldn’t judge a book on its cover, I beg to disagree. I think that the cover is indeed an important attribute to a book and that you will judge it before reading it. Obviously, some covers will tell you more and some will tell you less (or nothing, as is the case with hard cover books missing their jackets). And not only do you judge the book, other people who may see you reading judge the book, too.

This isn’t something I thought about too much before taking my young adult materials course. We were reading Judy Blume’s Forever . . . which is one of those “classic” titles of teendom. Within my class of about 11 people, the currently available copy of book had three covers, and each of these covers portrayed something entirely different about the book.

The first:


What does this cover suggest? To me, it’s reminiscent of many titles currently on the market. It reminds me a lot of the Sarah Dessen or the Jennifer Weiner covers in particular. Sweet with a definite bent for teens or young adults. When I shuffled through the used books at the bookstore, this was the copy I chose because it was most appealing to me (and as I found out, probably most relevant to the story itself).

The second:


This one’s pretty basic as well. It’s very similar to the recent cover from Sarah Dessen’s Lock and Key (seen here). The cover doesn’t tell you much about the story, but it’s also discrete enough to carry around anywhere and no one will really know what sort of book you are reading. The first cover, on the other hand, definitely looks like it’s a teen book or a book for the younger 20-something crowd. This one could scream romance, I suppose, but since there are no pictures of people or places, it isn’t too obvious. Moreover, the benefit of a cover like this is that it allows the reader to imagine everything for themselves; the publisher hasn’t given us an idea of what the main character looks like. The downfall, however, is that the book’s physical appearance isn’t memorable.

The third:


What says steamy romance more than the trade paperback size, red cover, and envelope with a lipstick kiss? Talk about a totally different message than the first book cover; in fact, this cover screams everything that the first cover doesn’t — this isn’t a sweet romance but rather a hot and heavy lust-driven book. Obviously, that sort of cover appeals to an entirely different audience than the first, even though the book is the same. It seems to me that inevitably, one group of readers will be disappointed to discover that it’s not what they were lead to believe it is based on the cover.

The cover images, the font (notice the first doesn’t capitalize Blume’s name and the second uses a teen-ish style), and even the size of the book really do impact the reader’s sense of the story. Notice, too, how a cover often changes when the book goes from its first release in hard back to its second life as a paperback. I would love to ask people who read books that have different covers what impact that had on their reading.

I’m willing to bet that readers of Forever . . . see and appreciate the value all three covers have. For some readers, the story really can be a steamy romance like the third cover suggests while for others, it’s a sweet story like the first portrays. But which do you think that people would feel most comfortable checking out from the library? Bringing to a busy lunch room on break? Reading on the train? What do YOU prefer when it comes to a cover?

EDIT:

Janssen has convinced me that it would also be worth including these two covers still readily available at the library:

This one just looks very, very dated. I’m a big believer in the notion if the book’s circulating and still on the shelves decades after it was published, it might be worth spending a few dollars to replace it with a more current look. It might seen an entirely new life, too. This particular cover just reminds me of those Lifetime movies that came out back in the early 90s.

And finally:

Really, this one’s not out dated, but it does strike me as a book geared for adults more than teens.

Typography and Reading

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As a reader, I do take note of typography. While it doesn’t necessarily make or break a book, it does directly impact the ease of which I can read a book. If you’ve never really paid attention, take a second to do so and then think back on those books that something just seemed not right.

Traditional design denotes that use of a serif font is the easiest on the eyes for reading — those serifs help in defining a line moving the eye from letter to letter. You can’t see the line, but it’s there. Sans serif fonts, however, are smoother but do not help in defining a visual line for readers. They look more contemporary and are great for emphasis or for titles since they just stand out. I’ve read, too, that the sans serif is easier on the eyes digitally; I’m not sure simply because I haven’t spent enough time reading longer text blocks on a screen to notice a difference.

Most books are printed with serif fonts, but I’ve noticed a trend lately in that more books are published with the sans serif font (perhaps something to do with the fact we’re more accustomed to digital text which trends sans serif). It’s been a tripping point in my reading, too: I find the books printed in sans serif harder to get through because they require more effort on my part to read, and they suffer from the challenge of being less able to define emphasis or tone through font shifts. An advantage of the serif font is the versatility in developing tone, character, or emphasis through use of the sans serif.

Here’s an example. Justine Chen Headley’s recent book North of Beautiful is set entirely in sans serif font. You can preview the first couple of pages here. Now, compare how you read that with how you can read the first few pages of Shooting the Moon by Frances O’Roark Dowell here. While the first one is definitely more aesthetically pleasing, I find the second much easier to read. My eyes can more easily glide across the lines, whereas in the first one, I have to spend more time on the process of moving my eyes. Sure, it’s fractions of a second, but over the course of 300 pages, it makes a difference.

All of this is to say that I find this trend an interesting one and one that perhaps isn’t entirely helpful to readers. What do you think? Do you have a preference for typography? I think it is definitely worth noting this and considering it as we read. It’s not about the font choices, but it’s important to think about typography and on how the reading experience was enhanced or hindered because of that choice.

You can read a bit more about typography as a design principle here. I’d love to hear your thoughts or experiences regarding the serif versus sans serif issue. I think there are beautiful fonts in both families and both have a place in a book; however, the use of the sans serif, I think, should be off-limits for the bulk of the body of text.

Double Take, Part III

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I really don’t look for this intentionally, but perhaps it just happens as a matter of looking at and reading so much material. This one struck me and not because the covers are so similar that it’s an obvious double take.

The first book is North of Beautiful by Justine Chen Headley, which was published February 1, 2009 by Little, Brown Young Readers.

North of Beautiful is a coming of age story about Tessa who was born with a large port-wine stain on her cheek. The book follows her as she comes to terms with who and what she is while delving into the big themes of love, family, and abuse. It’s been getting a lot of attention around the blogosphere, though I did not find it as exciting as the other reviewers. I DO really like the cover — it’s clean, fresh, and captures the essence of Tessa and one of the big themes in the book, cartography. You can’t see it here, but the edges of the cover are a beautiful fresh blue color.

The second book is this one:


Evermore by Alyson Noel was published a mere two days after North of Beautiful on February 3, 2009 by St. Martin’s Griffin. Evermore is the first book in a series by Noel that follows 17-year-old Ever after a terrible accident leaves everyone but her dead in her family. Of course, she falls for a boy in her new home who has magical powers, including the ability to produce tulips and disappear when he needs to.

Though immediately the covers don’t look alike, look again. It’s the same girl in both photos, but in the second one, her image has been mirrored. The hair is piece-y in both, the lips are full in both, and her eyebrow is distinct in both. Both covers show the part of her hair behind her ear with part tumbling down her shoulder. The lighter-colored strand of hair in the front is distinct, as well. In Evermore a tulip has been added since it’s a crucial part of the story, but I can’t help but wonder, too, if this was done to create more distinction with the cover. While the images are exactly the same girl, it is a big relief that the cover for Evermore is darker. It helps differentiate the two, particularly when both may be sitting on a shelf of new materials.

Who did it better? I like both of them, but I’m very bothered by both of them, as well. It makes me wonder how this sort of copying can happen. The publishing world is huge but so is the photography world/stock image world — it seems way too coincidental for two books to have this image published two days apart. What’s crazier is if you go to Amazon and look up North of Beautiful, you will be recommended Evermore. Wonder why?

Double Take Part II

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I don’t really notice a lot of cover art. It took me several Sookie Stackhouse books to realize that the artwork actually gave away plot points. I’m pretty dense at times.

However, I have my first addition to the “Double Take” game, despite my lack of observational skills. When Kelly first added The Zookeeper’s Wife to her Goodreads list, I thought, “Oh, I’ve read that.” Then I skimmed the description and realized, “Um, this has nothing to do with gay Thatcher-ites living in London.”

Yes, I was foiled by the covers. Let’s examine.

Published first, the paperback version of Alan Hollinghurst’s The Line of Beauty.


The book art depicts a view of a white walkway in a wooded garden as seen through a close-up of a wrought-iron fence. For a book about a man who desperately wants to be part of a privileged London world, this is a fitting cover. Private gardens (and keeping people out of them) play a large role in this novel.

Then, the similar-but-not-quite-the-same cover of Diane Ackerman’s The Zookeeper’s Wife.


I haven’t read this one yet, but from what I understand, Ackerman tells the story of Warsaw zookeepers who shelter Jews from the ghetto during the Nazi occupation of Poland. Notice the white walkway; the dark green of forests, the muted light; the curlicues of the iron bars. The photograph was taken from a different angle of a different fence, but the feel (and effect) of the cover bear a resemblance to The Line of Beauty. The superimposition of official documents underneath Diane Ackerman’s name also adds a different element to the cover, giving clues to the plot of the novel.

I prefer the Hollinghurst rendition, but only due to personal taste. I find myself photographing items from uncomfortably close angles, so the assymetry of the Hollinghurst cover appeals to my aesthetic. The Ackerman cover is a little too perfectly composed; I prefer photographs that are not centered. For both, though, I keep thinking back to the many snapshots I’ve taken over the years with the same subject matter. The idea of a gated pathway seems to be an almost ubiquitous allegory for things that we cannot have. It’s not surprising that this type of composition is striking.

Any other comments? We’d love to hear them.