Book Covers aren't just to stop dust

Book Covers aren't just to stop Dust

I am sat in front of computer - in splendid isolation - at 8.25 this evening, I am at peace with the world.

I haven’t been out either yesterday or today, and am missing Toby (our 16 year old son in Brain Injury Rehab) terribly (we have bugs), but I have been in touch with nature and myself.

I can hear the birds singing plaintive solitary soliloquies, and the soft thumping of the rain, rhythmic. The light is softly dimming into dusk and I feel that I have achieved all I have set out to do this weekend.

My friend, Lisa - my writing buddy and muse faeire - has produced the most amazing sketch outline for the cover of my novel – The King of Sandcastles. I was like a small child when she sent through the PDF not knowing whether the story I could see in my mind's eye so clearly whilst writing the book was going to be translated into something solid rather than a misty-eyed dream. I was frightened that the proposed publishers were going to trample over my dreams with their art department’s idea of a book cover, so asked my friend to help thwart the normal course of events.

A book cover should be, to me, something which introduces the story and invites the reader to enter the world – beckoning and encouraging the safe suspension of all other thoughts and outside intrusions – allowing the reader to take respite for a moment, cocooned within a world they would not otherwise visit. A safe harbour to rest and replenish their mind in this crazy IT and TV driven world.

The book covers I have seen this weekend have done everything except that – they are cluttered and noisy with their own self-importance. Distracting not complimenting, and actually in one instance has put me off reading, what I am sure is inside, an excellent book.

Books should be read with relish, the experience not a disposable one (well at £7.99 for some of these paperbacks they are not really disposable are they?). The paper and the fonts should be accessible, not hard yellowed cheap paper with a font so difficult to engage with that makes the reading stilted – that is the author’s job the struggling bit – the reader should be able to sit back and glide through the book totally oblivious to the blood sweat and tears that have gone into it.

No wonder we are finding it difficult to keep bookstores in business, gone are the days when you browsed and dreamed then bought. Most my friends pick their books up with the groceries, and in some instances discard them as they do the spent packaging. I miss bookshops, Amazon doesn’t cut it for me. I have heard of another one closing this week. There will be none left and I will have to explain this to concept to my children when I write my memoirs.

Having said that unless this publisher can respect my dream, I shan’t be adding to their coffers. I don’t think it is any coincidence that they ride around in plush cars, whilst authors struggle to sell a book a year, often propped up by the State.

Instead perhaps I shall publish my own, one copy of the book at a time if necessary. I won’t make a profit, but I will reap richer rewards than that. I will have put my name to a book I am proud to show the world and all the satisfaction that that will afford me. My dream will be intact and as I have nothing to prove, nothing will be proved, except that I will have achieved and my book won’t be covered in spilt milk before it gets home.

What really has made my spirit soar is that I was able to convey to Lisa in totally inadequate words, my dream, and she "understood" - this is what has given me a real thrill and renewed my resolve to do this whole project "right" , not just compromise or sell myself short.

I have now extinguished my candle, said goodnight to my words, and am going off to watch TV - my creative spirit nourished and awakened.

Shani Phethean-Hubble
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