As a writer who is still working on her debut novel manuscript, I can’t resist the temptation to feel as though every author who has her name splashed across a cover in a bookstore is the happiest writer who has ever written. She is, after all, published; after working hard, her best work is polished and released, and out for the world to consume.
Despite, as writers, knowing how easily and often our relationship with our own work fluctuates, we can sometimes silently impose an expectation on published authors that they should retain a permanently positive relationship with their books once they’re in print. Perhaps it’s ungrateful if they don’t. They could, after all, still be struggling like so many of us.
Is it actually that easy, though? Does a writer love all of his published works as much as the day they were released — or as much as we on the outside expect him to? Or does he actually want to burn every copy each time he sees an open flame? I asked six writers to look back on their debut novels, released as many as 25 years ago, and talk about how their relationships with their books have evolved with time and distance.
1. Colum McCann on Songdogs (1995)
My first novel, Songdogs, was actually my second book, after a collection of stories, Fishing the Sloe-Black River. I was in my mid-20s when I wrote it. I recall my agent saying that the first draft felt like it had been “preserved in aspic.” Basically, he was saying that it was god-awful. He was right, too. I got a second chance and wrote and rewrote and rewrote. I have a bit of a contradictory relationship with that book, which is now about 25 years old. I think I’m correct in saying that it’s a young man’s novel, flawed and flaring. I would never read it again — why spend my time with my own work when I can read someone else’s? — but there are parts of it that still rattle my tired memory.
Thirteen Ways of Looking (Random House) is forthcoming on October 13.
2. Alexander Chee on Edinburgh (2001)
I’m probably more proud of [Edinburgh now] than I was at the time it appeared. At the time, the struggle to publish it had consumed me — it took 24 rejections and two and a half years to find a publisher. I think I somehow internalized all those rejections. And so the eventual celebration when it appeared at last got a somewhat chilled embrace from me, even once it went better than I had expected. People kept saying to me, “Aren’t you happy?” And I couldn’t quickly answer. I was thinking, “Well…I don’t know.” A sort of anhedonia had set in. That feeling puzzled me for a long time. I understand it now, though — I was braced for something bad to happen, one last disaster. But it didn’t happen, and now I can celebrate it wholeheartedly.
The Queen of the Night (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt) is forthcoming on February 2.
3. Jami Attenberg on Instant Love (2007)
I actually have a real fondness for my first book, Instant Love. I wasn’t in an MFA program, and it had been more than a decade since I’d studied writing as an undergrad, so the book was constructed mainly on passion and voice and life experience rather than anything strategic or structural or academic. I just really stumbled my way through the writing of it, had no expectations, and was just happy it sold. Now that book feels as pure to me as anything I’ve ever written. When people tell me that they’ve read it, I get a little choked up thinking about that time in my life. I’m serious! I definitely think of that book as my first love.
4. Emily St. John Mandel on Last Night in Montreal (2009)
My first three novels were recently reissued, and I had the opportunity to read through them and make minor changes and corrections prior to publication. It was interesting to revisit them after all these years, especially my first novel, Last Night in Montreal. I think that novel’s by far the weakest of my books. I’m mystified that it gets more attention than my second and third novels, and if I were to write that story now I would go about it in a completely different way, but I was reassured to find upon rereading that I didn’t dislike it. Looking at it again was like opening a time capsule: there was a sense of “Oh, this is how I wrote in my early-to-mid-20s, when my sensibility was almost completely different.”
5. Justin Taylor on The Gospel of Anarchy (2012)
Gospel was brutally reviewed upon publication, for reasons that I felt — and still feel — were largely unfair, and only tangentially related to its contents. A lot of people wanted it to be pure punk rock slapstick, and so decided in advance that it probably would be, and so were more than a little bit put off by what turned out to be a dense, recursive, intermittently X-rated meditation on theology. The book’s great crime, in the critical consensus, was in taking its own central question seriously, namely: Is there a vantage point from which Christianity and anarchism appear (or are revealed) to be, one and the same thing? This is not to say I posed this as elegantly as I could have, or that anyone other than me is obliged to agree with my answer or even care what the possible answers are — it may not be a great novel, who knows? — but many critics seemed to be offended that I had asked the question in the first place. It was the refusal to engage, and the smug self-satisfaction of the unengaged, that hurt me far more than the negativity itself.
I started this paragraph planning to say that I’m no longer as upset by this as I was then, but it’s obviously not true. I’m still upset — maybe not in a day-to-day “Arya Stark’s revenge list” way, but still. I hate the part of American culture that prides itself on its shallowness, the cold and at least honest “fuck you” reduced even further to the squirrelly and smirking “WTF,” and I hate that we — literary culture — have allowed the infection to cross our borders. One does try to be a good literary citizen, and most of the time it’s a decent country to be citizen of, but other times it feels like you’re wading to middle school through a waist-deep river of shit. So, let me end on a positive — and sane — note by mentioning my single favorite response to The Gospel of Anarchy, which came in the form of a nine-panel comic by Horn! Reviews, which is the project of Kevin Thomas. He just understood exactly what I was after, met me where I was, produced art in response to art. All of which reassured me, at a time when I needed to hear it, that I wasn’t completely nuts to have gone about things the way I did. If Gospel ever gets reissued, his comic is going on the cover. In fact, there won’t be anything else on the cover. The whole cover will just be it.”
6. Anthony Marra on A Constellation of Vital Phenomena (2013)
I still do get a jolt of pride whenever I see Constellation in a bookstore, but now it’s more a nod across the room to an old friend. The greatest change has been the realization that when you publish a book, it stops being yours and begins belonging to whoever reads it. At an event a couple months back, a woman asked a question about the specifics of a particular plot point. I haven’t read Constellation since I finished writing it four years ago, and to my embarrassment, I’d forgotten the exact details of the scene in question. A couple other people in the crowd immediately jumped in with their own interpretations and I silently stood at the podium, relieved to listen to readers tell me what my book is about.
The Tsar of Love and Techno (Hogarth) is forthcoming on October 13.
The UK cover of the Hilary Mantel looks better digitally than it does in real life: the real thing looks a bit too pink and soft, completely the wrong impression for a book that is far from soft.
{And the marketing person in me wanted to tear out my hair when I saw it: you’ve got a novel about the court of Henry VIII with an enigmatic title . . . and you’re not going to do anything to help tell people what and when it’s about? It doesn’t seem to have mattered, since the book was so good that it found its audience, but still, it seemed like the publishers were unnecessarily tying one hand behind their back.}
Love this post and the commentary. Max, do you know of any blogs dedicated to this topic? Would love to learn more about the art of book jacket design.
The American jacket of my last book, The Ice Chorus, nearly derailed my career. Booksellers couldn’t give it away in spite of great reviews. The Brits did a much better job. Because we (Americans) are toddlers when it comes to consuming, jackets are often designed for the lowest common denominator of the demographic target, rather than for the book itself.
Great post. I love book covers. That British Low Boy cover is surprisingly bad. Looks like a mid-90s movie poster about techno-raves or some nonsense. Luckily the US one is great.
Poornima, The Book Design Review blog was a great resource. Unfortunately it is is on “indefinite hiatus” since January. Fortunately, it has a large and wonderful archive of posts.
http://nytimesbooks.blogspot.com/
The US version of Marlon James is a mess – are two blurbs really necessary? Overall, I’d score it 6-4 in favor of the UK, with the UK winners being the last six – Shamsie, Mantel, Tower, Moore, James and Atwood. Out of all these covers, the UK Wells Tower is my favorite.
Excellent post and thanks for the link, Joel. I wish I’d known about that sooner.
Every week or two I impose my limited knowledge and unfounded design opinions on random books. Oddly, under the same title.
http://burrowpress.com/tag/judging-a-book-by-its-cover/
“If you’ve read this book, you’ll know that the American cover is ridiculous. The U.K. cover, meanwhile, is close to perfect.”
For those of us who HAVEN’T read the book, the US version is really intriguing… the sand, the stairs, the red glow. The UK version, on the other hand, is a line drawing of a white house. On blue. Which tells me nothing. Totally boring and unevocative and unappealing to me.
FWIW, the “K” in Kingsolver on the UK jacket doesn’t bleed off the edge. It does in the image at Amazon.co.uk; it doesn’t on the Faber and Faber site. I always found a publisher’s site to be a more reliable image resource than Amazon.
CKHB, that’s a great point! I agree that it is more enticing to one who hasn’t ready, and that’s what matters after all, potential disappointment be damned.
Joseph, Thanks for the correction; that does make the UK Kingsolver cover slightly less intriguing to me. We hope your BDR site returns from its hiatus some day!
Joel, thank you for the heads up. Will definitely check out the blog you recommended.
I like that the UK cover lets me know immediately what is meant by the title of “The Help.” The US version is one of those pretty, generic things they stick on women’s books.
The UK cover for Let the Great World Spin is inexcusable.
On Wolf Hall, I would have thought that UK readers would be so familiar with the ‘logo’ of the Tudor rose that it (especially when combined with the rough wood texture) would shout historical novel. This seems a good case of there being a real need for two versions.
i’ve just judged a UK novel competition and was surprised by 1) the range in quality of book jacket design – why would publishers neglect such an obvious marketing tool – and 2) yes, how the cover influenced my expectations to the extent there was a least one novel I would not have picked off the bookshelf and would therefore have missed a good read…
I loved your article/list – as an Indie-Bound bookstore owner, I find it interesting/intriguing the way folks pick up a book (when not handsold by their favorite bookseller :) – sometimes I just think they like the cover!
I heard Umberto Eco speak a few years back at a national ABA meeting about the importance of graphics/color/design in books – and I truly believe it should extend to the covers of books – I treasure my signed/first edition books because I also have their covers in excellent shape!
Thanks for the info –
Kathleen
Of the ones I’ve read…
Wolf Hall – agree with Bridget Whelan. Also, the blurb on the flyleaf is impressively well-written, especially given the sheer size of the novel.
The Year of the Flood – the UK cover is one of the best I’ve seen/stroked in ages. What you can’t tell on here is that it’s deliciously embossed. Edibly good.
The Lacuna – Much prefer the American cover for its boldness. It’s a bold novel.
Of those I haven’t…
I’d reach for the UK cover of Let the World Spin before the US one
It’s funny, I’ve seen the UK cover for Let the Great World Spin in Canada and most of the rest I’ve seen the US cover.
I agree completely with Max’s assessment of the Lorrie Moore. I’ve read it and it’s definitely better represented by the UK cover. Perhaps it’s more enticing, but it also doesn’t do the writer justice. Her prose is new and fresh feeling, while that cover seems… old. Screams prairie fiction to me.
@ poornima – Check out http://covers.fwis.com/
They seem to be having some technical difficulties right now, but it’s a great space where lots of designers discuss book covers.
This confirms to me that there is no universal right or wrong in cover design nor a clear distinction according to nationality. We respond individually to a cover in the light of what we know and have experienced and from our own prejudices.
Having worked as an independent bookseller in both the US and UK the difference in covers is always incredibly interesting (and often confusing).
One of my favourite marked differences was with Memoirs of a Geisha. Striking and original in the UK. Totally missable in the US.
On these titles, I agree with Bridget that UK book buyers would instantly be able to judge the content of Mantel’s book. In addition I think they’d be able to instantly recognise it as literary fiction (compared say with the more genre-typical covers of C. J. Sansom’s excellent Shardlake novels).
I agree also that the UK covers on the first too royally suck, whilst the UK Atwood cover leaves the US one standing in about 1992… very disappointing job.
I think that the UK Burnt Shadows cover is OK though, fitting in with other UK covers of a similar ilk. Unlike the US cover it wouldn’t deter male fiction readers over here, a situation likely reversed in The Book of Night Women.
Oh, and a note to say that at a glance, or maybe on gut reaction, I’d have mistaken the Kingsolver for a Salman Rushdie. I wonder which would be less pleased?!
Nice article. Great comments.
I’m just gonna assume from these covers that American publishers don’t trust their readers abilities. Just to reinforce the obvious the American covers state “A novel’. Maybe they should print ‘now turn the page’ at the bottom of every page too.
About Wolf Hall, in my opinion the Canadian edition is rather well done… it points to historical fiction without being too obvious about what it’s about. In my opinion the use of portraits (even truncated portraits) as in the American edition is overdone. I rather like the UK edition, however.
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DpbzQjeiDuo/SujR0gNEahI/AAAAAAAAA70/oucfBWVlDto/s320/Wolf+Hall
Another website for book covers is causticcovercritic.blogspot.com.
Excellent article, and some apt analysis. I’ve put a link at http://www.hyraxia.com. I’ve always thought of UK covers as being a little more simplistic, as though it shouldn’t matter, though this is certainly changing.
Really, Sarah? The American ‘toddlers’ did your last book in, not the snobbish, superior attitude of it’s author? *cough* How interesting.
That being said, I’m in the lovely position of being able to travel between the US and Ireland frequently (Ireland generally gets the UK editions), and often get to see the different covers. Sometimes I even wait to buy a book if I know I can get a prettier edition in another country; for example I buy my Flashman novels with the UK cover only…they’re fantastic, while the US ones are utterly uninspired.
Anyway, the biggest UK failure I’ve seen is the cover for Like Water for Elephants. It’s a big, sparkley mess that looks terrible in person, especially when compared to the subtle American one which gives a sense of mystery. Meanwhile, on the US end, their cover for The Book Thief (dominoes?!) is pointless rubbish compared to the UK one: a sweet girl and Death dancing down the road. Each side has their own sins to atone for, I think.
This is a great article! I love the comparisons you chose, and I agree with most of your statements. I never noticed how much a cover appeals or turns me away from a book. How interesting that publishers think their audiences are so different.
Thanks for this post. I am in Melbourne Australia. I have seen BOTH the US and UK versions of Barbara Kingsolver’s THE LACUNA in my local bookstores. I guess it depends on who owns the bookstores! But the indies stock the AUST/UK version. On closer inspection this morning, however, (and after reading this post) I looked more closely. Our Australian cover of THE LACUNA is taken from the UK one, though a little changed. Ours has the same painting, without the ripped text look over it. It also misses out on the ‘bleed’ of the type to the left. Which led me to wonder if the bleed is intentional. I don’t think it is, as nice as it looks. The whole type is off midline. I checked some other pages and I think I shall stand by my thoughts. Right to the source, Faber and Faber, show this as the UK cover http://tinyurl.com/yanoeyk . This is the slightly different AUST cover http://tinyurl.com/yd7r8lg . Nowhere do I see the bleed. Nice as it is, It’s not intentional. BTW, this is the paperback UK cover – different again. http://tinyurl.com/yc5ax6r
BTW, if you want a great example ot cover text bleed, an obvious example is the great cover of THINGS WE DIDN’T SEE COMING by Steven Amsterdam http://tinyurl.com/yjf7jt3 (great little story, too) . The Australian version http://tinyurl.com/dap3hz
agree with the Margaret Atwood and Mantel covers, they are both intoxicating
Strange to see that the covers differ so greatly. I knew that each country has a custom cover but is seems it is little control on how the cover should look. As a designer it seem there is a lot of ups and downs in this selection. The comment about what Umberto Eco said is ever so true. Think of how much goes into product and packaging design. A book is a product and if the cover doesn’t give you any idea about the book, there is a problem.
I like that the American edition of “Wolf Hall” makes the title nice and big, so us dumb hicks know which is the title and which is the author. Of course, seeing the two covers side by side like that, it becomes even more confusing which is which if you’re not familiar with the author, since the orders have been reversed between the two countries!
I count myself among said dumb hicks, of course.
I liked the idea of comparing covers for same book published for different regions. As a book cover designer I enjoy comparing and watching work of other book cover designers. i also do same type of comparison with my optional covers and finalized covers. Thanks for sharing all these b’ful book covers.
Cool article! I love it. To continue the comparisons, I recommend following @CoverSpy and @CoverSpyLondon on Tumblr and Twitter — we’ve got cover spies in New York and London who blog and tweet cover images of the books we catch people reading around our cities. (Also http://www.coverspy.com and http://www.coverspylondon.tumblr.com.) On March 17, both UK and US spies caught readers of The Year of Magical Thinking: http://coverspylondon.tumblr.com/post/454215553 and http://coverspy.tumblr.com/post/454710482
Cheers!