The book is finished, in one sense, and not finished in another sense. Story and words are there, copy editing is done, pages laid out, an ISBN number assigned. What remains is the cover, something over which the author has little control, and yet what potential readers will see first.
In many cases, the cover is the only thing potential readers will see of the book. Their eyes will slide over the cover, the title, the author’s name, the endorsements, the excerpts of reviews, the plot summary, and for whatever reason, they will not be persuaded to buy or borrow the book.
I have done exactly this to an untold number of books. I have browsed the book shelves and display tables of bookstores and libraries, and in most cases, I have been guilty of not picking up the book. The cover has not worked enough of its subliminal magic, its mix of art and aspiration and advertising, its flaunting of the title and the author’s name. And then there are many cases where the covers and everything they sported did accomplish their magic, and after admiring the cover, I bought the book, and brought it home, and did not read the book.
The cover can only do so much. It cannot compel the reader to actually read the book, or hide the imperfections of a book or the ways in which it might not be a good match for a reader. But the cover can capture some part of a book, or fail to do so, and knowing this, I wait for the arrival of my own covers with some anxiety and excitement. The covers, or the drafts of them, are always a surprise.
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