I’ve always thought that British book covers, generally speaking, are nicer looking than their American counterparts, with the latter seeking to target a demographic rather than to dazzle the eye. With this in mind, the following is an incredibly unscientific experiment in aesthetics. I’ve taken as a sample the Tournament of Books contenders whose American and British editions differ. The American covers are on the left, and clicking through takes you to a larger image. Your equally inexpert commentary is welcomed in the comments.
British artist Su Blackwell's wonderful book-cut sculpturesDischarged books from the Stanford library find new life as a barPart Joseph Cornell box, part book about Joseph Cornell boxes (for more info)A selection of works by Georgia Russell, Cara Borer, and other artists whose medium is booksGerman designer Werner Aisslinger's storage modules, made of books, and then there's Housefish's shelves made of booksSecret hiding place book-boxesDonald Lipski's statue for the Kansas City Public LibraryJ. Crew's variations on the chic librarian: Library bookshelf cardigan & library charm braceletRaymond Waites library wallpaper & a bookcase "mural"... And finally: Ever wanted a marble bust of Schiller? Burns? Voltaire, Darwin, Plato, or Dante? Look no furtherMore Books as Objects: Limited Editions, Artifacts and Armaments, Books by the Foot, The Ultimate Prop
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In one of my first posts for the Millons, a post on books used for purposes other than reading, I mentioned the British artist Su Blackwell and her book cut sculptures. Blackwell's work is enchanting and I find myself (in week six of a post-dissertation/graduate school illiterate malaise in which I have read nothing, nothing, nothing and now fear I will never read or want to read again - though reading and books have been the defining activity and object of my life until now) drawn again to Blackwell.Blackwell's work recollects the shoebox dioramas of cut paper scenes that children make in grade school, but in Blackwell's sculptures all of the two and three-dimensional figures are cut out of the printed or illustrated pages of books and seem to spring out of the book from which they were cut (a single volume is often the platform on which and out of which her little still-life fairytale scenes spring). Occasionally, she incorporates lights into her sculptures and her scenes are often housed in wooden boxes, but otherwise Blackwell's sole medium is books.While cutting old books apart might seem a bit sacrilegious to a bibliophile, the results are so delicate and beautiful - so suggestive of the other worlds that good books make real - that you'll easily forgive the iconoclasm. In their surprisingly literal way, Blackwel's sculptures remind us of the vistas of imagination that art, particularly literary art, allow us to encounter - worlds that are in some sense, Blackwell reminds us, made from such paltry ingredients: ink and paper. In the throes of my ongoing bout of illiteracy, I find this reminder comforting - an enthralling approximation of the readerly places I can't get to myself just now.
In January I posted scans of a bunch of fantastic new editions of classic books from Penguin with covers designed by famous comic book artists. I'd heard that another batch was on the way, and I finally got my hands on the images so here they are. They come out this fall:Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Cover by Yoshihiro TatsumiWe Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson, Cover by Thomas Ott The Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac, Cover by JasonLady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence, Cover by Chester Brown Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, Cover by Frank MillerPhilosophy in the Boudoir by Marquis de Sade, Cover by Tomer HanukaSee the full-size pictures hereSome other notes: I first saw some of these covers posted at the Fantagraphics blog. Tomer Hanuka has a really cool post about designing his cover at his blog Tropical Toxic.
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I've really been enjoying Scott Esposito's blog Conversational Reading lately. Recently he's put up a couple of posts that speak to how our love for books goes beyond just the words themselves. But before I get to his posts I had a few thoughts about this as well. One of the reasons the we love books as objects, I think, is because they are all so different from one another in appearance. Whenever a new book comes out, part of the anticipation comes from wanting to see what the book will look like. One of my typical diversions when I worked at the bookstore was to read the "briefly noted" reviews in the New Yorker and then go find the books reviewed, just to see what they looked like. On other occasions my fellow booksellers and I would stand in front of the fiction display table and discuss which book looked the best, rather than which book would be the best to read. Mrs. Millions, who occasionally makes books, got me into the habit of peeking under the dustjackets of hardcover books to see what they look like underneath, and ever since I have been fascinated by the little details -- usually stylized monograms -- in the canvas hardcovers that most folks never see. There is a reason why we display our books on open shelves. They are a treat for the eye. Which brings me back to Conversational Reading, where Scott posted some images from the amazing experiment at Adobe Bookshop in San Francisco where they rearranged all their books by color. (here's some more photos). We also treat our books differently than we treat other objects. After a while each book carries with it two stories, the one printed on its pages and the one about the journey the book has taken before it gets to you sometimes through many hands and emblazoned with many jottings and markings. In another post Esposito writes about marking books up as he reads them. He mentions that second hand bookstores often turn these marked up books away, but I, for one, happen to love finding the mysterious notes of a book's former owners.On a related note, in keeping with the stories as fetish objects theme, I came upon an interesting project via Pia Z. Ehrhardt's blog today. It's called The World's Smallest Magazine. You send them a book of stamps, and they send you a postcard with a 250 word story on it every month.