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Beautifully Designed Book Covers

Great book design can be said to achieve two things: they announce and brand themselves. Some become Jurassic Park level iconic, with the book's cover art replicated in their paperback and international editions, and even movie posters--if the book is successful enough to capture Hollywood's attention. They're the type of covers that you can't imagine being anything other than what they are, though I have liked another cover of Educated (2018) that I think also captures the essence of the story (not the one with a childhood photograph of Westover on a swing). Below are a sampling of favorite book cover designs, along with my reflections of a few of them. I hope that whoever was involved in the design of Shusterman's Arc of the Scythe book series received an award. Everything about those book covers bring joy: the paper on which they're printed, the graphic but simple nature of the image, the typography, the color. Overall those books' cover

Bold and Sassy: Dear Haiti, Love Alaine

"Beautiful cover" is what I thought when I first saw Maika and Maritza Moulite's Dear Haiti, Love Alaine (2019) on the new books display at BN a few months ago. It certainly achieved its purpose: grabbed my attention, particularly because the particular red used reminded me of the hibiscus flowers I associate with Haiti. Having now read the book, the cover also does effectively capture the attitude of the 17-year old protagonist, Alaine Beauparlant: bold, sassy, and quick-witted. I generally like sassy and admire quick-wittedness, but something about Alaine just didn't work for me; I couldn't get lost in her characterization. Maybe it has to do with her voice: it just didn't ring true as a teenager's, even a well-educated middle-class one. In fact, the indistinguishable nature of all the characters' voices is this book's biggest flaw. The story is that of Alaine who, after a prank gone wrong during the presentation of her senior project, is &

Punny Rhymes: A Tale of Two Tails

Illustrated with gorgeous autumnal-hued watercolors, Tanja Hiti-Stearns' A Tale of Two Tails (2018) is a lovely picture book that relates the tale of Mr. Bits's conflict with a golden-haired tabby, Fred. Written in rhyming couplets and with rich vocabulary, the story is that of Mr. Bits whose plan to stock up for the winter by taking supplies stored in the tabby's home goes awry. Vowing to avenge his lost pride, Mr. Bits convenes a council of fellow chipmunks to enact their plan. Mr. Bits and crew succeed, and in doing so teach Fred a lesson about kindness. It is clear that a lot of thought and care went into the creation of A Tale of Two Tails , down to the font used, an element which really added to its appeal. In doing so, the book feels like a classic, evoking the old world charm captured in the Peter Rabbit books. A Tale of Two Tails brings comfort and is worthy of being added on one's bookshelf.

Book Covers: Design Matters

There's something to be said about book covers: Well done, they elevate the greatness of a book; poorly done, they intensify the disappointment in a not-so-great book. While there is wisdom in the adage, "Don't judge a book by its cover," there's also the reality that first impressions matter. I have no degree and have never taken any courses on design, so I lack the technical language to describe why a design works or does not work for me. Still, I find myself examining and critiquing various aspect of design that converge into a good book cover: color, layout, typeface, artwork, creativity, and originality. My willingness to buy the e-reader vs. the physical or paperback vs. hardcover copy of a book is entirely dependent on the cover. There are some book covers that I appreciate as pure art and find them worthy of being framed and displayed. (e.g., Neil Shusterman's Arc of a Scythe series). For this reason, I love when a book's cover entices me, f

Owning Her Story: Becoming by Michelle Obama

Should I be embarrassed to share that until I recently read Michelle Obama's memoir Becoming (2018), I hadn't really known too much about her history? Or that I didn't fully understand others' obsession and deep admiration of her? Like many Americans, I reveled in the election of Barack Obama as 44th President of the United States, though I remained fearful and prayed for the family's safety throughout their eight years in the White House. While I admired the Obamas for what they symbolized, I wasn't obsessed with them. Other than a now defunct website dedicated to Mrs. O's fashion, I hadn't kept up with many of the articles or biographies that populated many shelves and websites since they first stepped into the national spotlight. Most of my perception of the Obamas came from reading 2/3 of Dreams from My Father (2007) way back when and whatever had made it in the headlines during their initial presidential campaign. Having read Becoming , I

Reconciling with the Past: The Best We Could Do

The first time I read Thi Bui's The Best We Could Do (2017), I was caught up not only by the evocative and tragic aspects of her illustrated memoir but also the commonality among seemingly disparate groups. At the time, I worked in a community consisting of a large group of Haitians and Vietnamese, two groups I had not considered as sharing much in common other than their immigrant status. However, through this memoir, I learned that both groups historically share a language because both had been colonized by the French. For some reason, the knowledge that my French-speaking Haitian students could theoretically hold a conversation with my French-speaking Vietnamese students' grandparents intrigued me. The idea that language served as both a barrier (for my Vietnamese-American students who couldn't communicate with their grandparents) and an opening because of a shared language uniting two generations from different cultures really struck me. Similar to Celeste Ng's E

Diagnosis: Too Much. Symptoms of a Heartbreak

Sona Charaipotra's Symptoms of a Heartbreak (2019) in idea sounds great. A modern female Doogie Howser works to knock out cancer while trying to balance life as a teenager. In execution, however, the story...falls flat. It's unfortunate, really, because the book has so many good things going for it: teenage romance, friendship troubles, work drama, and overall likable secondary characters. On a technical front, the writing is also strong with effective pacing. An additional plus is that the story is centered around Indian-American female protagonist, sixteen-year-old Saira. So what's the issue? In the end, Symptoms of a Heartbreak suffers from too much: a lack of definition and focus on a central conflict. In addition to balancing the everyday growing pains of teenage life with being a "girl genius" medical professional, Saira is also contending with the following: maintaining professional relations with a patient, managing others' expectations of her girl

Emmie & Friends: Adventures in Middle School

One of the best things to have happened with books in the last decade has been the increase in published graphic novels and their status as "real books." Once limited to the comic book genre, the publication and critical acclaim of Gene Luen Yang's American Born Chinese (2006) cracked the door. The popularity of Raina Telgemeier's graphic novels signaled a new wave, particularly for the middle grades. I started to really invest in these books when I tried to stock my classroom library for my middle school students. Varied in their interests, reading levels, and reading desires, I wanted to find something to appeal to every single one of them. Graphic novels were my carrot, particularly for the boys who really struggled to engage with independent reading. Of the new crop of graphic novels for younger readers, here are some of the characteristics I've noticed: They feature characters who are in middle school. They're often part of a series. They central

Epic Love: The Song of Achilles

I was drawn by its contrasting but complimentary colors, simplicity, and directness. Evoking ancient history and a type of brusque masculinity that I could immediately visualize, the cover of Madeline Miller's The Song of Achilles (2012) beckoned me each day it remained a Kindle deal. Lured by its siren call, I read the sample pages, and before the first chapter ended, I was enchanted by Patroclus and the longing that I discerned in his voice. I was an emotional wreck when I finished the book. Days after reading, I struggled to find the words to capture the magic of Patroclus and Achilles's love story. In short, The Song of Achilles is a work of beauty. The story is related by Patroclus, a prince sent to live in exile after he accidentally kills the son of a wealthy merchant. He is taken in by Peleus, Achilles's father, and eventually by Achilles himself. Over time, Achilles and Petroclus's relationship becomes romantic and inspires the wrath of Achilles's sea