Allaboutwriting

Henrietta Rose-Innes  on the art of publishing – the book cover.

The Heartstoppingly Gorgeous Front Cover: it’s one of the most compelling daydreams for an unpublished author. I know writers who’ve lovingly designed book jackets in their minds – complete with blurbs, endorsements and their own name gold-embossed – long before the book is written or the title picked out. (Matte or gloss? Bold or subtle? Author photo – brooding, alluring or enigmatically absent?) Even better: a row of identical covers, gleaming on a bookshop shelf.

Many writers assume they’ll have a big hand in designing or at least choosing their book’s cover – and are shocked to realise it doesn’t work quite like that in traditional publishing. Authors can end up feeling bitter resentment for what they’re given. Sometimes, they’re correct to do so: there are some incomprehensibly ugly books in existence, and publishers can cut corners or make seriously questionable decisions. When that happens, you have every right to cause a fuss.

However, publishers and authors can have very different ideas about what makes a winning book jacket –and there’s not much you can do to force the issue. A publisher may be happy to give the writer a role in briefing the designer, and most times will avoid imposing a loathsome cover; but ultimately the choice is a marketing decision, and publishers have the final say.

I’ve been on a couple of sides of the book-design table, as both determined/ imperious author and longsuffering/ insolent publishing assistant (all adjectives interchangeable). I know what it’s like to tactfully decline an author’s close relative’s inept artwork.  But I also understand what it feels like to have some strange person dress up your infant book in nasty, inappropriate clothes and send it out into the world looking like that. It can seem like they’re taking your work away, making it less yours. The truth is, that’s exactly what’s happening.

One of the biggest lessons for a writer is this: at a certain point your book ceases belong to you, or only to you.  Once you entrust your manuscript to a publisher, it develops a whole set of other, parallel relationships: with the publisher, the editor, the proofreader, the page designer, the cover artist – and of course, ultimately, the readers. Every one of these people will imagine your book, and own it, in their own particular way. You need to let that happen.

I’ve had to learn that my brain may not be as visual as I’d like to think it is. I remember clearly the first time I observed a trained designer work on a cover. I realised the depth of expertise and experience that goes into picking out fonts and font sizes for the title and author name, balancing their placement on the page, against each other, against the artwork, against the brief for the book. I was forcibly reminded that sometimes it’s best to leave the visual stuff to those who really get it. (If you’re published in other countries, you have to respect foreign publishers’ knowledge of their markets, too, even if the aesthetics can feel odd.)

In an ideal situation, you’ll work with a designer who is open to input, who has read your book and really cares about content, but who also has their own independent vision and is able to work within the particular strictures (budget, marketing) of the industry. To my awe and delight, I’ve had that privilege several times. All of the above counts for self-publishing, too: if you don’t have those professional design skills, it’s really worthwhile to find someone who does.

When it works, it’s beautiful. A skilled designer can turn a book into a gorgeous object, exploring graphic possibilities that would never occur to most word-focused writers. I love to look at book covers. (Indeed, often the outsides promise more than the insides deliver.) There are plenty of collections of striking covers online – just Google “beautiful book covers” and you’ll find a wealth of images. Here’s just one such list that appealed to me. And here are some lovely old covers from the turn of the last century.

We’re lucky in having some brilliant book designers working in South Africa. Local books these days look really slick, a far cry from some of the muddy, rather worthy covers I remember from my early writing days. I’ve put together an off-the-cuff, unrepresentative, highly subjective handful of local fiction titles from 2011 (or coming out soon) that I find striking or effective. Of the ones I’ve read, I can say the covers match and enhance the books perfectly. I’ve included the names of the designers / artists / design studios responsible, some more high-profile than others. Often designers, like editors, get professional respect but not much public acclaim. You’ll generally find their names in small print right at the bottom of the imprint page. I’ve certainly missed out many lovely books that deserve to be listed – what are your favourites?

Nineveh by Henrietta Rose-Innes (Ok, so I’m biased; but you have to admit, it’s a killer cover) – design by Michiel Botha

Illuminating Love by Hazel Frankel – design by Publicide

The Loss Library by Ivan Vladislavić – artwork by Sunandini Banerjee

The Big Stick by Richard de Nooy – design by Joey Hi-Fi (coming out soon)

Go Tell the Sun by Wame Molefhe – design by Bitscape Design, artwork by Jesse Breytenbach

Things I Thought I Knew by Kathryn White – design by Hanneke du Toit

Light Across Time by Tom Learmont – design by Publicide

Henrietta Rose-Innes is a South African writer based in Cape Town. Her novel, Nineveh, was published by Random House Struik in 2011. She has also published a collection of short stories, Homing, and two previous novels: Shark’s Egg and The Rock Alphabet.http://www.henriettarose-innes.com/