The overused saying ‘Never judge a book by its cover’ is, as Hamlet was fond of pointing out, more honoured in the breach than in the observance. In the same way that most of us place more confidence in a cleverly designed wine label than one which looks like somebody’s nephew has thrown it together in Microsoft Paint, a book’s cover really matters. This is why publishers constantly update and rebrand titles with new and enticing covers. This is why Jeanette Winterson, who objected to the blurbs (a subject for a future newsletter) on her newly rejacketed novels publicly burnt a selection of them in full view of Twitter.
I’m not going to talk in this newsletter about the aesthetics of cover design (again, this is something I’ll come back to in the future), instead concentrating just on my experience of how the whole process works.
Long story short, the publisher chooses the cover and you give them the thumbs up to do this when you sign the contract. This part of it is usually along the lines of something like “The publisher shall be responsible for the entire production and publication of the Work, the title, the edited text, the design and layout, typography, repographic origination of illustrations, project management, proofing, JACKET/COVER [my capitals] and embellishments…”
Of course it isn’t the case that the first time I’ve seen the cover is when I received the first printed copy. All the publishers I’ve worked with have asked for my input into the cover design before their designers have come up with anything, and have welcomed my general – and sometimes very specific – comments. Then what happens is that they usually come up with one or two ideas and ask for my opinion. Sometimes they come up with just one and ask for my opinion. That’s what happened with my first book Shedworking: The Alternative Workplace Revolution which was due to be published by The Friday Project (later I took to to Frances Lincoln/Quarto after TFP was swallowed up by Harper Collins). It was very politely but firmly put to me that everybody in sales, marketing, and editorial thought it was a great cover, with the strong implication that this was going to be it. This is it below:
I tried to give it the benefit of the doubt but I didn’t like it much at all (I still don’t), but it was my first book and I was simply immensely grateful that anybody was going to publish it, so I enthused right back at them.
Since then, I’ve gradually felt increasingly confident about being a bit more assertive, although usually I’ve really liked the covers. Only once have I said, “Erm, no I don’t like that at all, can you have a rethink please?” And full marks to them, they did exactly that. What they came back with wasn’t a million miles from the first go, but it was certainly better and definitely acceptable. When it comes to foreign editions, the respective publishers just charge ahead and the first I’ve seen of the covers is indeed when one turns up in the post.
On the whole, I think it’s a good thing that authors are kept out of the equation. I’m a good writer, a semi-passable newpaper/magazine layout person, and very much not even an amateur book cover designer. I mean, I know what I like, but that’s not quite the same. My take on the book production process has largely been that I’m happy to discuss the text, although I’ll need to be convinced to make anything other than minor changes (though no persuasion to correct errors of course!). But when it comes to all the other things – the actual making of it, the distributing of it, the selling of it – I am more than happy to put myself in the hands of people who have done it hundreds of times before. This is even more true for covers in other countries. I rely on my Japanese publisher or my German publisher to have a much better feel of what will sell in their country than me. And I’m afraid that a lot of covers produced by self-published writers suggest that I’m right.
Next week: Who decides what goes in the book?
What I read last week: The Fortnight in September by RC Sheriff. I missed it on BBC Radio 4’s Book at Bedtime earlier in the year and now regret it as I thought this was marvellous. The edition from Persephone Books also has lovely endpapers, below.
What I’m reading this week: Claire Keegan’s Small Things Like These. Actually I’ve just finished it and it’s also great. It would make a really good short read at Christmas. I also whizzed through some HG Wells short stories, The Sea Raiders, The Magic Shop, and The Land Ironclads, packaged together in the pocket-sized Penguin’s Little Black Classics series.
What I’m planning to read next week: Welsh Food Stories by Carwyn Graves, published by the University of Wales Press’s new imprint Calon. I’ve been lucky enough to be sent an early proof copy so have already had a peak and it looks very promising indeed. Also, John Buchan’s A Gap in the Curtain, recently republished by Handheld Press.