Bookish Discussion #1 // Judging a Book...

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Note: I realize I’m quite behind on commenting on blogs and answering comments on mine. I'm so sorry about that. Rest assured, I haven’t forgotten any of you, and I will try to catch up over the next few weeks. In the meantime, please bear with me. 

For the next few days I figured I would tackle some topics I’ve been meaning to discuss for a while but haven’t felt entirely confident addressing. If you’ve been reading my blog over the past month or so, you’ll know that I started following a bunch of BookTubers because I figured it was about time I got a feel for that sort of culture. But a little while ago, I encountered a corner of BookTube that had been “calling out” vloggers who are concerned with the aesthetics of the books they buy (these videos would have been filmed about a year ago). One vlogger, especially, argued that buying books based on cover love—as well as avoiding ugly editions and used books—is shallow. She also expressed confusion about why vloggers don’t feature many library books in their videos, and why buying books is such a huge fixation in that culture. 

Please don’t get me wrong. It’s perfectly okay if you just don’t understand people like me who like buying nice books and keeping them in good condition. But it does genuinely bug me when people imply my bookish habits make me shallow, so I figured I would speak up about my own point of view. (If you've read my blog long enough, you may have noticed that I love inserting unsolicited opinions into the mix.) 

Today we’re tackling cover love. (And, in case you’re interested in my plan for the next few posts, I’lll be talking a bit more about bookish aesthetics on Friday, analyzing some book covers on Monday, and broaching the subject of libraries vs. ownership next Wednesday, if all goes well.) 

Traditionally published authors rarely get much say in what their book covers look like. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. Some writers—like Stephenie Meyer and Michelle Hodkin—get to offer varying degrees of input on their cover designs. Usually, though, the piece of art that represents a story to the world at large has nothing to do with the author’s vision or desires. 

Because authors don’t often get to pick their cover art and all that fun stuff, it doesn’t seem fair that my decision whether or not to read a book should hinge on something so superficial and seemingly irrelevant. “A story is a story,” people argue. “The book is the words and the thoughts conveyed, not the pages and the pretty picture. It’s so shallow to avoid ugly or second-hand books just because they don’t look good. You silly person.” 

Hold your horses. I shall explain myself. 

One reason why ugly covers can be a big turn-off is that cover artists are supposed to convey the feel of the book. If I don’t like the emotions or thoughts conveyed by the cover, that could be a good indication I won’t like the emotions or thoughts conveyed in the book. Of course that’s not always the case, but it is possible, so it’s something I take into consideration. Additionally, if a cover is tacky or shoddily done, I do have to wonder how much faith the publisher (and the artists by extension) had in the book, and how much time and money they were willing to invest in making quality cover art. If they don’t seem to have put that much stock in their own book, I’m naturally going to be a little leery. 

Perhaps you don’t find that reason sufficiently satisfying. “That’s based on guesswork and subjectivity,” you argue. To which I say, “Fair enough. Let’s try something more personal.”

I have synesthesia, which means something that triggers a single sensory response in a normal brain triggers multiple sensory responses in mine. (I’ve mentioned before that I see letters, numbers, and words as having color. That is just one manifestation of synesthesia.) Many people don’t hugely care about their book covers because those are completely separate from their reading experiences. They may not find a cover particularly attractive, but they don’t consider it detrimental to their enjoyment. This is, by far, not the case for me. While reading, my mind automatically equates the color, design, and texture of the physical book with the story itself. This means that, when you mention INSURGENT, you think INSURGENT, but I think INSURGENT. (Putting it that way is overly simplistic, but I'm not sure how else to convey the thought—sorry.) For me, the aesthetics of the physical book are a strong part of the story itself, and I cannot separate the two in my head. The cover is the book and the book is the cover. Both the superficial and the tangible matter equally to me. This isn’t an indication of how shallow or deep a person I am—it’s simply how my brain is wired. 

If a book is absolutely fabulous, an ugly cover can still mar my reading experience, as hard as I try to keep the insides and the outsides separate in my mind. In the same vein, cover redesigns bother me because, once the color and texture of the story have been set in my head, no other edition feels like the right fit. This is the main reason why I spend more money and more time buying books selectively to make sure I get attractive editions, and this is why I am more likely to be forgiving of lesser books if they have great covers. This is also why I’m a little leery of libraries, but I’ll go into that more next Wednesday. 

If my reasoning makes me seem even more shallow and superficial than I did before you read this, oh well. I tried. Have fun judging me. In the meantime, I’ll just be sitting here, stroking my gorgeous bookish darlings. Enjoy your jealousy, and don’t forget to come back on Friday for further discussion on bookish aesthetics. 

Well, that’s it for today, little coffee beans. What are your thoughts on cover love? Do you prefer attractive books? If your answer is yes, what are some of your reasons? Do you not care what your books look like? If so, why? What are some attitudes in the blogosphere or the BookTubesphere (I don’t think that’s the right word, but I don’t know what else to call it) that bother you?