By Its Cover / Chipp Kidd Poetry Month Poster
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Chipp Kidd usually designs book covers. He also, of course, writes and edits books. And here he's designed a poster for national poetry month.
I should start by mentioning that I like Chipp Kidd's work. A lot. I think he very often chooses just the right image (All the Pretty Horses, Magical Thinking, The Secret History, and gives just enough negative space (usually a lot) to the image to make it stunning. What almost always bothers me, however, his his typographic treatment. Most notably, here, his typographic treatment of the Dickenson quote. Why on earth is it letterspaced? And furthermore, why is Emily Dickinson's name letterspaced, given that it's italicized?
Too often this happens because a designer is just trying to do something different. But Chipp Kidd doesn't have that excuse. At least not anymore he doesn't. My guess is that it's letterpaced to fit into the space he wanted it to fit into. He wanted some black air between the letters. He treats each letter as object, to be moved at will, push and shove. But the trouble with that is that they are more than objects. They have meaning. They have a designed letterspace. They are more powerful grouped than separate.
There's no denying Chipp Kidd's success. But his success relies so heavily on image that the actual design suffers. This is still a gorgeous poster, and I wish I had one in my house. I wish there was one on every public building in my town. But maybe I wish it was just the spooky hanging dress. The web address for poets.org. Some very simple words, without letterspacing.
It's national poetry month, after all. What better time to be reminded that words are overstuffed with meaning. Letterspacing lowercase letters does nothing but distract from that meaning, which I see as a mistake.
Full Size National Poetry Month Poster.
Books about Chip Kidd:
· Chip Kidd
· Chip Kidd / Book One / Work / 1986-2006
Technorati Tags: chip, kidd, chipkidd, design, poster, poetrymonth, nationalpoetrymonth, poetry, april, letterspace, review, byitscover
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Another Reason to Hate Canada (it's all jealousy, of course)
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Canadian writers may not always sell millions of copies of their books (who does?), but they do have an additional support structure in grants and awards. Such as the Writers' Trust Awards, wherein eight writers share in $133,000 in award money. If you figured Alice Munro to win one of these, you'd be figuring correctly. But there's more:
This year's winners come from across the country and include national icons such as Alice Munro and Peter C. Newman along with up-and-coming talents such as Saskatchewan-born Devin Krukoff. Other winners are David Adams Richards, Deborah Ellis, Elaine Dewar, Howard Engel, and Dianne Warren.Congratulations to all the winners. I'm guessing one of the things you'll want to do with your winnings is buy You Are a Dog. It's just CDN$16.95, and that would hardly put a dent in your prize, yes?
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Jon Katz at Slate
Here's a quick link to all the Jon Katz articles at Slate. The most recent, regarding a border collie in the dog underground railroad, seems to have caused a tiny uproar. Though I don't know if it can be called an uproar if it's tiny. In any case, more katz here:
Slate
http://slate.msn.com/id/2077581&qp=40207.
Jon Katz on Fresh Air
I just discovered this Fresh Air interview with Jon Katz, and quite enjoyed listening to it. You might enjoy it too.
Jon Katz Interview on Fresh Air
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=1964311
Jon Katz
For awhile I considered calling this "The Jon Katz Adoration Page," but then I thought that might become redundant after reading what I had to say about Jon Katz on this page. So I'm calling it The Jon Katz Page, and I'll post thoughts and links and whatall about Jon Katz here, in an effort to get even more people to buy and read and adore Jon Katz books like I do. I'll post items in the order I read them or find them, so they'll likely appear here in reverse order, and I'll post a notice in the axis when there's an update here.
The New Work of Dogs
When I first learned that Jon Katz was going to blurb my book, my first response was, "who's Jon Katz?" When I found out who Jon Katz was, of course, I felt pretty stupid. His books, including The New Work of Dogs have pretty much become the dog books to read if you are at all interested in reading dog books. I had seen his books, but I'd never read one, in part because while I was writing my own dog book, I found that I couldn't read any dog books. I had to completely divorce myself from a genre that had recently become one of my favorites. So it has taken me until just now to finally pick one up and read it. And I'm stuffed full. I can't imagine why I hadn't read The New Work of Dogs before now.
The New Work of Dogs is just the right book for me at just the right time. In it, Mr. Katz makes a good case for all dogs--not just dogs herding sheep or leading the blind or sniffing bombs--are working dogs. They are working in our homes, performing a new kind of work, whether it be as companions or surrogates or lozenges, those dogs are definitely working, doing something in our lives that we can't necessarily do for ourselves. He spends a chapter with each of several dog "owners," shepherding us through their lives and how it is their dogs do some kind of major work. The book is touching and never cruel (though it would be easy to be cruel to some of the humans he explores), and though the book doesn't necessarily offer a sound-bite analysis of our relathionship with dogs, it does something only the best dog books do for me: it makes me spend more time with my dogs. It makes me want to help dogs in their work. It makes me want to read more Jon Katz. And it makes me a better human.
What more can you ask from a book than that it make you a better human?
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By its Cover: The Family Tree by Carole Cadwalldr
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You are required, almost be natural law, to be attracted to this color red. I am required to do so, anyway. It's of similar hue to the Starbucks holiday cup that looks as if it could make your Starbucks quad latte taste better somehow, just by being red. The tree, too, in its ivory simplicity, seems almost perfect (though I wish it were just a tad larger, so that it became more prominent). That the tree has its roots explosed seems all the more exactly just-so. But the upper third of the design? Well, I suppose I understand the idea of putting the title onto a faded photo (look closely, it's actually a photo there) and then into photo corners, but it seems cliché, especially when pasted diagonally (which makes no real kind of sense), and encourages a sense of cliché in the tree by reflection. Add to that the flying bird (a dove?), and the jacket nearly crumbles.
But the base is solid enough to save this jacket. A solid, unframed author's name at the bottom. That color red. I suppose this red could easily and quickly be overused. I imagine a shelf full of utterly red covers would invoke suicide among book buyers (or worse, people who don't buy books). But once in awhile it just seems necessary. And I'm glad to see it here.
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By its Cover: In Other Words by Christopher J. Moore
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In Other Words: A Language Lover's Guide to the Most Intriguing Words Around the World by Christopher J. Moore
Now that all the Christmas hubbub is over, I thought I'd take another gander at the Amazon.com top 100 books for my next By It's Cover update, and lo, what did I find but a classic, simple, lovely cover in In Other Words by Christopher J. Moore. This is a lovely example of a cover that isn't trying to do too much. It's not bombarding us with clichés, it's not trying to get in our face with color, and it's not trying to say too much. There are just a few, subtle colors here, presented simply. It looks as if the illustration on the cover might even be a wood cut or linocut or some sort of lovelycut or perfectcut.
I would like to say a simple thank you to the designer for not letterspacing the lowercase serif typeface. Every designer from now on who refrains from doing this should receive a thank you. Flowers, maybe, or a box of chocolates.
My time for writing this is up. I'm moving on.
Blessings.
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By its Cover: The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs by Alexander McCall Smith
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The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs by Alexander McCall Smith
The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs has a sort of classic appeal. Simple typography, unubtrusive graphics, and page-centered everything. The "Sausage Dog" (which I must assume is a Dachshund, though I haven't heard one called a sausage or weiner dog in ages) as a graphic, of course, calls out to me. "Look," it says, "a dog book." So I wander over. It's lovely, and reminds me of simple book-by-book hand lithography rather than mass-produced printing (though it's likely produced by the latter rather than the former).
I'm still always surprised when I find a relatively popular book that is so lovely. I don't know why I am. But I am.
I look forward to seeing this one in person.
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By its Cover: The Many Lives of Marilyn Monroe
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The Many Lives of Marilyn Monroe by Sarah Churchwell
I'd like to think that the designer could have put any photo of Marilyn Monroe on the cover of this book and it would have been just as appealing. But if I really do think that, then I'm relatively certain that I'm trying to fool myself just to keep from spending too much time examining what is and isn't revealed in the photo (and trying to avoid making a cad of myself).
But what is and isn't revealed in the photo is precisely what makes the photo so appropriate.
The photo itself reveals a side of Marilyn Monroe that, though we may have been familiar with it, is not the side that we are regularly bombarded with. Yes, this side jibes with the icon. But it also seems a bit ahead of its time. It's unexpected. It's sexy (sexier than a lot of her photos, which should tell you something about this on). To put this image of Marilyn Monroe on the cover of this book says, "You don't know everything you think you know." It says, "Marylin Monroe was more than what you think you know of her." It reaches for appeal not often seen in a book jacket, and does so boldly, without hesitation.
The text? Very simple. Letterspaced uppercase roman type. It does not distract, nor does it neglect to tell you what the book is about. It's quite lovely, in fact, in its simplicity, and reminds me of a kind of architectural setting, as if this book were a building. And good show. There's a lot to admire in this sort of classical treatment.
Do I want to own this book primarily because of it's cover? I do. Does this make me a cad? Perhpaps. If so, then for this moment, this evening, a cad I will be.
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By its Cover: Fairy Tales by Burlie Doherty, illustrated by Jane Ray
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Fairy Tales by Burlie Doherty, illustrated by Jane Ray
I was reading books to my daughter this evening, and I'd just finished 10 Little Ballerinas for the tenth time in the last three days, when I said, "I'm picking the next book."
"Okay, Papa."
I suppose she was patronizing me, but I wanted to read something else. Something with a little more... I don't know. A little more something.
This version of Fairy Tales, re-imagined by Burlie Doherty and illustrated by Jane Ray, was near at hand (somehow, almost magically, appearing very close to where we were reading--a kind of fairy tale in and of itself).
"I'll chose the fairy tale, Papa," she said. Okay. Fine enough. I read the titles and touched the pages.
As I held the book, I was struck by its heft, which is constructed as if meant to last more than a generation. And the illustrations are extraordinary. Which makes the jacket extraordinary, of course. It is enticing, this jacket, by illustration alone. And the interior pages are even more remarkable.
I suppose I could say a thing or two about the contents, since I've read it all. The stories are, well, the fairy tales you're familiar with. Cinderella. Hansel and Gretel. Beauty and the Beast. Closer to the true fairy tales than their Disney counterparts (and thus a bit more frightening). The prose is not especially lovely or musical or even striking, and this might be what qualifies it for good children's text.
However, my daughter chose Hansel and Gretel, as she often does. I know why she does. She wants to see the house made of candy. She wants to hear about the house made of candy, to imagine the house made of candy. But we seldom get this far. She doesn't want the children to be lost in the forest (and neither, of course, do I), she doesn't want to encounter the witch who threatens to eat the children, and she doesn't want to get to the thrilling conclusion (dad's not so bad after all... he was just henpecked by a hideously malicious wife).
So we look at the pictures, and she asks questions about the candy house, about the witch, about the story's ending. And this is okay too. I'm interacting with my daughter. And we're looking at some of the most gorgeous pictures I've ever seen in a children's picture book. What, honestly, could be better than this?
By its cover, Fairy Tales is striking. By its interior, it is remarkable. As a whole, I still can't believe they're selling this book for twenty bucks.
Blessings.
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By its Cover: Thinking With Type: A Critical Guide for Designers, Writers, Editors, & Students
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Thinking with Type: A Critical Guide for Designers, Writers, Editors, & Students by Ellen Lupton
I love a good style guide.
No really I do.
Especially one that concentrates on type and type design. (Why the disbelieving stare?)
Perhaps not surprisingly, it is just such style guides as these that I judge most harshly on design. And I'm looking at Thinking with Type and wondering why I should care. Amazon keeps shoving it at me, knowing how much I love a good style guide (especially one that concentrates on type and type design). But I've rarely clicked on it. I don't feel drawn to the book. And perhaps it is because (in part) the type on the cover is presented in a rather pedestrian way. Also, you can't really appreciate the border (of black-on-white typeset pages) without looking closely. (You also don't see the curves and lines explanetary notes on the type's edges... but since they're not especially necessary, they're hardly worth mentioning... though I did manage to mention them, didn't I.)
This makes me wonder how many people might actually be designing for those little Amazon boxes. How important is it that we be able to see the aspects of design in a glace at a browser screen?
In a book like this, I'd wager that the most important thing is that the type be legible there, on the browser page, and also legible in the bookstore (should it happen to be set face out--however unlikely that is). The type should be clean and unhindered. So, though I don't exactly take back what I said about this book not drawing my attention (the contrast between text and field is awfully thin), I would say that at least I knew exactly what it was the moment I saw it. And there's something to be said for that.
Though I didn't have to look inside the book based on its cover, if I was in the market for a book like this one, I would at least wander through it and see if it was worth the purchase price. And that's maybe good enough. For now.
Blessings.
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By its Cover: Everyday Matters by Danny Gregory
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Everyday Matters by Danny Gregory
On first glace, this cover is far too busy. I mean, I don't know what on earth is happening here but color and color and line and color. And that's its only drawback. Because upon closer inspection, it's Danny Gregory's book, heavily illustrated and hand lettered, and all that color and line is actually an accumulation of his drawings smashed together in a way that, although it amounts to a troublesome cover, is nevertheless intriguing enough to get me to open it up. Because I know I'm going to like what I find inside, from color to line to story.
How do I know? Because I've been following Danny Gregory's Weblog, and it's full of same.
I'd be much happier to see one or two of his drawings there on the cover. Simplify. I'd be much more likely to stop and look. To open. Alas.
This is one of those books that makes Amazon's "look inside the book" truly worthwhile. If you go visit his book on Amazon, I highly recommend taking a peek inside.
Blessings.
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By its Cover: How We Are Hungry: Stories by Dave Eggers
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How We Are Hungry: Stories by Dave Eggers
In truth, this book has no book jacket. What it has instead is a wraparound, or ribbon, bearing the book title and author's name. Along with this is an elastic band with which to keep the book closed. As an object, How We Are Hungry is undoubtedly mean to look like a moleskin notebook, and does so handily. I'm not entirely sure the purpose of making your book of stories look like a moleskin (a book of sketches maybe, or a memoir), but maybe the purpose is more like anti-purpose than true purpose. That is, the moleskin is "cool," and reminds one of "cool," and is therefore worth emulating as a "cool" product. It is, at the very least, something you notice on the bookshelf. You think, "oh, what's that moleskin doing there in the fiction section?" Upon closer inspection, it looks to be Dave Eggers' latest book. And you may or may not be more interested in it based on this information. But at least you stopped. You looked. You said, "oh, cool."
And, indeed, "oh, cool," was my reaction. Then I moved to the next table, and asked the people at the counter if they carried moleskin notebooks. When they said that they did, I bought three of those.
So, thanks, Dave Eggers, for reminding me of moleskin.
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By its Cover: Bicycle: The History by David Herlihy
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Bicycle: The History by David herlihy
Oh. Would you look at all that negative space? (For those of you squinting and wondering, I mean the black bits of the color, the expanse of "negative" color, the space empty of photo.) And the bicycle there, making up the "L" in the word "BICYCLE," though not especially surprising or innovative, is certainly well placed, and makes the title almost unnecessary. I wish that more books could be published without a title on the jacket. or maybe just on the spine. Why do we need a title on the jacket if the photograph says everything you want the jacket to say?
Of course, we don't know, really, if this photograph says everything the designer/author/publisher wants--or needs--the jacket to say. This one almost does--except, of course, that on first glance I'm thinking that the book is going to be a photography book. And it isn't a photography book. When I open it, and flip through the pages, I discover that, though the book is illustrated--and many of the illustrations are perfect-lovely-wonderful--the jacket makes me think that the book is something it isn't. So, well, damn. I still want it. The subject is interesting enough, the jacket is gorgeous enough and my need to click "add to cart" strong enough that I'm in full desire mode. Gimme gimme gimme.
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By its Cover: Under the Sign of Saturn by Susan Sontag
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Under the Sign of Saturn by Susan Sontag
Perhaps it is a poor memorial of Susan Sontag to be examining the covers over her books too closely. Perhaps I should spend more time reading her work instead. I've only managed to finish reading--of all her books--On Photography, so I would expect me to at least have something to say about that book. But in truth I don't. I was perhaps too young, when I read it, to make much of it. I've read essays of hers since, and found much more to move me. And therefore my minor memorial is reminder of her essay collections, especially Under the Signs of Saturn. The Picador covers are not especially innovative or provacative (or even interesting), but they are elegant, and don't hinder being opened. With the name Susan Sontag comes a kind of automatic key... no need to put her name in neon. Her name will continue to be looked up. Her books will continue to be found. Those words will always be read.
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By its Cover: The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
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The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
One thing I admire in a cover almost more than anything else is a little bit of daring. Although I admit that the photo here is a bit trite (how many times have I seen disassociated legs on the cover of a book? Many many times. Even yesterday's choice had 'em), I admire the open (and so ugly it's beautiful) field of chartreuse, with the trite photo stamped in the upper right corner. The typographic selection is so very plain that it appears almost hazardously so--as if the designer simply didn't know better. But I'd like to give the designer the benefit of the doubt.
I'd like to. But turn the book over (or don't, please), and I wonder. I know it's often difficult to plan for blurbs and synopsis and other assorted folderol, but one does have to plan for it, and what works for the front does not work for the back. The setting of the text does not look so "hip" or "contemporary" as it does simply wrong, as if the font outlines weren't sent along with the Quark files, so the printer inserted whatever they wanted. (It isn't pretty, and it doesn't manage the same beautiful ugliness of the front. At all.)
So, okay, the face works, the boot does not. How is this book likely to be shelved? Perhaps I should be spending more time talking about the spines.
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Recently
By Its Cover / Chipp Kidd Poetry Month Poster / Another Reason to Hate Canada (it's all jealousy, ... / The Jon Katz Page / By its Cover: The Family Tree by Carole Cadwalldr / By its Cover: In Other Words by Christopher J. Moo... / By its Cover: The Finer Points of Sausage Dogs by ... / By its Cover: The Many Lives of Marilyn Monroe / By its Cover: Fairy Tales by Burlie Doherty, illus... / By its Cover: Thinking With Type: A Critical Guide... / By its Cover: Everyday Matters by Danny Gregory /
Memory
May 2004 / August 2004 / September 2004 / October 2004 / November 2004 / December 2004 / January 2005 / March 2005 / April 2005 /
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