Criticism vs. Critique

Recently, I got my first advance copy of a book, which I’m super excited about. The publisher Zando reached out to send a copy of the upcoming book Black Bag by Luke Kennard—all thoughts and opinions are entirely my own, so no affiliate links or paid ads here. I thought this would make a great opportunity to take a closer look at the cover and use it as a way to help provide a guide to design critiques.

A common assumption that I’ve come across in my years as a designer is that, we are hyper-critical of other designs. I want to dispel this notion and celebrate other designers’ work by offering a critique—or analysis—of the design. This is very different from a critique I would give with my own designs or to another designer who is asking for one. This is an unsolicited analysis of a design in the wild, with the goal of our learning and not to guide the designer in what they could do better. There’s a lot we can learn when we look at others’ work with wonder and curiosity.

Design isn’t Always Subjective

What makes a “good” book cover can be very dependent on how you are viewing it. A book cover has the difficult job of visually translating a story. We’re turning a literal story into something more abstract. That result can be subjective when viewing as a reader/consumer because we’re working with our personal taste and subjective experience. When looking at it from a technical perspective, we are looking at the nuts and bolts of the design and not just our personal response. If I dislike a design, that does not mean it is poorly executed, and liking a design doesn’t mean it’s executed well. This distinction is important, whether you are self-publishing a book, working with designers, or are a designer yourself. A good critique will separate the self from the work, whether you’re the viewer or even the designer of the piece.

The Design Fence

Something I always try to remember when I see a design piece in the wild—or in my mailbox—is that I’m missing a lot of context. I don’t know the designer or the limitations placed on them by the design brief. A designer can be constrained by brand guidelines, color palettes, imagery styles, typefaces, marketing/sales, genre, and all manner of things. Those will play an immense role in the choices they make when designing. It’s then disingenuous to give an opinion about something I know nothing about.

What is valuable is to look at how they used the elements and principles of design to create the cover and to tell us a story. That’s how we can find new ideas and revel in the beauty of the craft.

I’m spending some time giving this background and philosophy of critique because I hope it gives you, the reader, an understanding of why we would critique a cover and what we hope to gain.

But that’s enough of my rambling; let’s dive in.

Part 1: The Cover

This analysis is written without reading the book or blurb, but purely based on just looking at the cover.

First Impressions

The first thing that I want to take a look at is the immediate reaction to the cover and what stands out. The first thing that jumps out at me is the vibrancy of the background.

It was the first thing I noticed when I opened the package; it’s hard to miss. It has this beautiful, almost neon quality to it. I’m in love with the striking vibrancy. It feels incredibly fresh and modern. I can immediately place it into the literary fiction space because of its overall style. The abstracted imagery and bold colors tend to be used more in literary fiction than in genre fiction.

Color

The color is the hook, and the shrouded figure is what reels me in. The designer uses color to create a strong contrast between the foreground and background, leaving us nowhere to look but at the figure. We move up, and again, using color, we have this connection to the title Black Bag and now, some understanding of what the image could be.

One technical aspect about the color is that I don’t think this green was printed using the 4-color process (CMYK). It’s hard to get colors this vibrant using CMYK. My guess is that this was printed on a green paper, the blue is a Pantone, and the rest is 4-color. Either way, this color was meticulously chosen for its effect.

Composition

There are several things happening with the composition that I love. One is the use of line, and the other is the use of both symmetry and asymmetry. The composition mirrors the use of color where there’s a tension contrasted with harmony. The blue and green are analogous, creating a beautiful harmony with the black as a disruptor. The composition is doing something similar; there’s a vertical symmetry creating balance, and a horizontal asymmetry that provides visual weight. The top of the figure sits right on the halfway point of the cover. I feel like it isn’t quite a rule of thirds thing going on (see image example below), but a great use of symmetrical contrast to draw our eye to the central figure.

Line

The use of line is doing something similar to what the color and composition are doing. There are three obvious lines: the title/author name and the figure. Do you see the contrast? It should be screaming at you. Typically, designers will use line to allow the eye to move about the cover—now I’m going to argue two contradictory things coming up, bear with me—but the core lines seem to contradict each other. The text visually has a strong horizontal, with the figure being a strong vertical (there’s that contrast again). There’s also an implied line of the figure walking left, opposite of our reading direction. Side note: general advice for cover design dictates that when you have implied movement, you want it to lead towards the cover opening, not the spine. The idea is that you’re subtly leading the reader into the book, not away from it.

Okay, so we have our disruptive lines that don’t seem to follow convention, so why does it work and still look harmonious? That’s where the composition and color are coming in clutch. There are a lot of implied lines that are guiding us through the cover, that is creating this beautiful flow throughout.

Telling a Story

The use of line is a fantastic example of how the elements of design play dual roles; they’re visual and thematic. Line here is doing its job of guiding our focus; it “ties” everything together. But I think it’s doing some thematic heavy lifting as well. The strong lines of the black elements and the opposing implied line of the walking figure are telling us something about the story itself. The figure is a disruptor. It gives us pause to ask the questions of “what is this person is doing?” and “why are they in a bag?”.

So much of design is predicated on shared visual language, which can vary across cultures, backgrounds, and generations. I’m reading the background as someplace idyllic, or at least a world that is of one thing and the figure of another. I see a black bag and think garbage bag or body bag. Both the figure and background are in opposition to each other, or maybe the figure feels that way. The figure is shrouded, maybe feels unseen but also alienated. There’s something nefarious about a body in a bag, but it also feels a bit humorous or tongue-in-cheek. The recurring visual theme of contrast and disruption is telling me themes of alienation, or unbelonging. With the stylization saying it’s not being too serious, maybe it’s an introspective book with a comedic undercurrent. Maybe not quite a comedy, but not quite self-serious.

This is where things can start to be subjective. We know what the elements are doing visually, but what it tells us and what we draw from it is going to be subject to our personal experience, visual language, and preferences. So, to take a pause, do you agree with me on the themes, or do you see something different? Take a moment to digest it. What does the cover say to you?

Part 2: The Cover, but now we’ve read the synopsis

An out-of-work actor accepts the role of a lifetime—sitting soundlessly in a lecture theater, zipped into a large leather bag—to aid a professor’s psychological experiment. What could possibly go wrong?

In Luke Kennard’s audacious new novel, a penniless and out-of-work actor picks up a job working for Dr. Blend, a university professor who is conducting a psychological experiment. How will Dr. Blend’s students react to someone zipped into an oversized bag, sitting at the back of the lecture hall over a series of Fall lectures? The role, eagerly accepted, soon has unexpected consequences. A professor of post-humanism develops research questions of her own—in particular, can you love someone secreted away inside a black bag?—and the actor’s childhood friend forms a vision for monetizing this new situation . . .

A warped campus novel, an investigation into the crisis of masculinity, and an off-kilter love story, Black Bag is a firework of a novel: blazingly funny and profoundly humane.

—Blurb of Black Bag

Great blurb. I would say I was within the ballpark thematically. There were a few things here and there about the story I did not pick up on, but overall, the designer did a fantastic job in getting me intrigued about the story and communicating the overall narrative tone the book wants to have.

I did not pick up on a romance aspect, masculinity, or even the setting of a university. And that’s okay. The designer is getting us to ask questions. They don’t need to resolve them. This mystery is good; there’s no resolution to these questions because the designer wants me to pick up the book to find out! The cover and blurb are working hand-in-hand to do the job of selling. Sometimes the cover may be enough, sometimes it needs the blurb, sometimes it takes reading the first chapter to be sold on it. It all builds on each other.

Part 3: Conclusion

It is the little things that are going to cause people to stop and take a look at a book. Then the next little thing will hold them a little bit longer. Eventually, as it continues to build visual momentum, the person will pick up the book and take the next action—until, hopefully, they buy it.

Lessons Learned

What we can learn from this case study is how the designer’s use of the elements and principles of design together, create something that is visually harmonious and thematically resonant. They don’t just create a pretty picture but tell us a story. It’s a constant questioning of, “How well do they work together visually,” and, “Does it say something?”. The elements may work together visually but be thematically empty. There may be something really important to the themes but it doesn’t work visually. It’s all about knowing what to keep and let go of to create something that works. Design is about establishing a goal and sending a message, but many times you can’t explain every little thing. Allow it to create intrigue and questions and give it time to build.

The Mastermind

I don’t want this to drone on like the end of Lord of the Rings. But I do want to address one question that I’ve gotten a lot. Whenever I go into this level of detail, the question inevitably comes up: “Does the designer really think through all of these things when designing?” And the answer, in my experience, is yes and no. It can depend on the work environment and designer, but a lot is instinctual. As a designer trains in the craft, there is an implicit knowledge of the elements and principles that becomes almost second nature. You know when it’s not right. It comes with time and experience, but also exploration. I don't know this designer or the Creative Director or how they work in their studio, but, for a cover at this level, I’d bet dollars to donuts there are hundreds of sketches to go with this one cover. Type, color, and layout explorations are not unusual and are common practice for designers. It’s a good way to see if you’re missing anything and to help build those visual and thematic connections.

I’m going to write a case study/critique on one of my own covers, one created for a self-published author, to give an example of the process, and we can get a little messier and maybe see how a self-published cover can both fare better and what we lose out on without studio support.

Again, this isn't paid or sponsored in any way, but thanks to Zando for sending over this great book! Check it out when it goes on sale on March 17th. Also, leave a comment if there’s anything you noticed that I didn’t touch on! I’d love to hear your observations on both the technical and thematic parts of the cover.

This series will look at books—mostly from my collection—from a design perspective, what goes through my head when I’m in a bookshop browsing books. I’ll offer insight into aspects of the book like cover design, binding, typography, illustration, and page layout.

This series is not an ad or a recommendation list, merely a look at books through a designer’s eye. In the series, we’ll cover trade books, non-traditional reading experiences, fine craftsmanship, antiques, and artist’s books.

This first part is all about the trades.

Trade books are what we’re most familiar with when we think of books. Trades are books intended for broad consumption and can be in a variety of genres.1 They come in either paperback or hardcover jacket/laminate with sizes typically around 6” x 9” in the USA. The binding is either sewn or glue bound (perfect binding), with the latter being a popular and affordable option.

When looking at the design of covers, in the back of my mind is always a reminder that these were created based on briefs and feedback outside of the designer’s control. Book covers may go through multiple rounds of concepting and revisions with editors, marketing, sales, production, and others offering insight into their individual goals and metrics that the cover needs to meet. The designers distill all of that information into something that reach those goals while remaining beautiful, creative, and interesting.

Non-Fiction Books

The Decay of Lying by Oscar Wilde

Published by Penguin Books UK, Penguin Great Ideas Series | Design by David Pearson & Felix Koeberlin | Paperback, Perfect bound

I was introduced to the Great Ideas Series while in the UK, they are beautifully designed by David Pearson in a primarily typographic style. The printing of the cover has a letterpress-like texture, but I can’t find anywhere that confirms they are letterpressed. Here’s a great interview with David from PRINT magazine where he offers insight into his body of work, technique, and design philosophy.

There is No Place for Us by Brian Goldstone

Published by Crown NY | Design by Anna Kochman | Hardcover, Dust Jacket

Non-fiction book covers can be hard to design, an easy approach is to rely on a photograph or make it very literal. This cover caught my eye at a book fair, I appreciate how it represents the topic in an abstract way and doesn’t play on emotionality. The heavy black border bars us from the wide open city, separating us from the rest of society.

Fiction Books

Culpability by Bruce Holsinger

Published by Spiegel & Grau | Design by Violet Dine, Rodrigo Corral Studio | Hardcover, Dust Jacket

The idyllic saturated colors catch the eye and the unique title composition guides you all around the cover. It’s the distorted figures on the picnic blanket and dock that drew me in to the story. It’s a world that feels misleading, artificial, and troubling.

Henry Henry by Allen Bratton

Published by Crown NY | Design by Jaya Nicely | Art by Kris Knight | Hardcover, Dust Jacket

The isolation of his facial expression away from the context of the body draws you in, and the color story is sheer perfection.

So Far Gone by Jess Walter

Published by Harper NY | Design by Milan Bozic | Hardcover, Dust Jacket

The color and style remind me of a mid-century ad, a style I’ve always loved. The forest and color-matching between the ominous sign and title tell me there’s danger and an adventure up ahead. Either way, it’s a trip I’m down to take.

Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico

Published by Fitzcarraldo Editions | Design by Ray O’Meara | Paperback, Perfect bound, French flaps

Minimalism is the most misunderstood design style and the most technical. The fewer visual elements playing off of each other, the more precise each element needs to be. These editions are expertly executed. The Klein blue and custom typeface from O’Meara are chef’s kiss. These editions function less as representations of the story and more as expressions of the publisher’s curatorial identity—similar to Penguin’s orange classics.

The interior of the book is also worth highlighting. The margins are generous and the page composition feels more like what you’d see in a classical book than a modern trade.

Fantasy & Romance Books

The Devils by Joe Abercrombie

Published by Tor Books | Design and cover art by Will Staehle / Unusual Co. | Illustrations by Joel Daniel Phillips | Hardcover, Dust Jacket

I love fantasy. You can have a lot of fun when you have only your imagination to limit you. The designers and artists had a fun one with this book! The cover is gorgeous, from the burning letters to the crown as the lower jaw. There’s such an intense atmosphere and story it creates without telling you much about the book, which is what I love in a cover. When opening the book and seeing those gorgeous endpapers made it an instant buy. The interior of the book extends the world, allowing the experience to continue beyond the jacket.

The Song of Achilles & Circe by Madeline Miller

Published by Bloomsbury UK | Design by ?? | Hardcover

I love myths and I’ve loved these retellings. I wasn’t much of a fan of The Song of Achilles original covers or subsequent covers, they never felt like they captured the tone of the book just right. These editions by Bloomsbury are gorgeous and subtle. With the classical ornamentation and elegant illustrations, they elevate the books and position them as modern classics. My one complaint is the binding appears glued rather than sewn, which is disappointing. Also, I can’t seem to find who the artist/designer is for these covers—they’re not credited in the book—so if you know, tell me!

Trade books set a baseline for what most readers encounter. These are the books that fill our shelves and that will make up a large majority of projects for book designers.

The next part of this series moves up in complexity and experimentation, looking at coffee table books and cookbooks that rely on more sophisticated printing techniques and layered design solutions.

Like many things, worrying is unnecessary, all went well and I sold out of my copies of the Nutcracker! This unique book was made especially for the fair but has been an idea that I’ve been playing around with for a while. You can see how the book works below and in this letter I’ll share a peek behind the curtain of how this book came to be!

Cracking the Idea

I was confirmed to have a spot in the holiday craft fair about a month and a half before. Even though it wasn’t a lot of time, I wanted to create something festive and to bring an artist’s book. Something that combined book design and bookbinding and gives the reader a special, unique experience when reading it. I hadn’t seen many artist’s books in local craft fairs and thought it would be a great way to start introducing it to people.

I’ve always loved the idea of advent calendars, how every day you unlock a new surprise that builds the anticipation for Christmas. To go along with that idea, I was gravitating towards an advent storybook. A book that reveals itself gradually over the 12 days of Christmas and magically comes together on Christmas morning.

Finding the Right Structure

Books come in a variety of shapes and sizes, and I needed to find the right one for this idea. I needed it to be simple to put together, naturally segmented, and collaborative between myself and the reader. Since I knew it was going to be advent related, there was an element that the reader would have to do some of the binding themselves, so I didn’t want sewing, stapling, or anything like that involved.

I explored a lot of structural ideas like envelopes sewn together, pamphlets sewn into concertina mountain folds, and small stitched booklets housed in a box that could sit on a shelf like a miniature library.

They were fun ideas, but not quite hitting what I was looking for. Until, I stumbled on this blog post about a book structure called Flat-Style Australian Reverse Piano Hinge binding. The name may be a mouthful, but it was exactly what I was looking for. It ticked all of my boxes and had the potential to have a really beautiful presentation.

Finding the Right Story

With the structure chosen, I needed to choose a text. I initially thought of twelve different holiday and winter-themed short stories. While listening to The Nutcracker by Tchaikovsky, I realized that I had never read this holiday classic! I read through it and saw that it has 14 chapters. The craft fair was 13 days before Christmas and I realized it would be a great fit to use one story instead of 12 different ones. I could double-up on a chapter and the episodic nature of the story fit the format really well.

I now had the two essential parts of the project, the text and the structure. The blueprints have been drawn and construction can begin.

Bringing it to Life

With the foundation established, I moved into the design stage. First things first, I read the story through again to connect with the tone of the book.

Size and Page Construction

Next, I established the size. I initially went with a size that would fit in the palm of your hand, before realizing that it worked against both readability and production. The final size, 102 × 165 mm, allowed me to print two-up on US letter paper, which helped with readability and simplified the printing, trimming, and folding.

For the page itself, I used a page construction adapted from Jan Tschichold’s page canon. Jan Tschichold is a giant of the book design world, being responsible for the iconic orange Penguin covers, and he did research in establishing the optimal ratio of the text to page. These involved reconstructions of Gutenberg’s books as well as many from the medieval and renaissance period.

The page construction Tschichold help established is characterized with larger outside and bottom margins and smaller inside margins. The proportions are based on the golden ratio—as so much in art is—and involves several different methods. I used the method of creating a 9x9 grid, and setting the top and inside margin as half of the outside and bottom, with the outside/bottom set at 2/9.

I chose this specific page construction because of its classical heritage, it’s proportions can be seen through many handmade books of the early printing era as well as in Arts & Crafts books published by William Morris.

Typography

If page construction and size are the foundation of a book, typography is the walls that keep everything up. In keeping with the classical inspiration, for titles, drop caps, and ornamentation, I used P22 Morris—a typeface inspired by William Morris and the Arts & Crafts movement. For the body text, Garamond Premier Pro. It’s become something of a house style for me. Classic, readable, and dependable. They complimented each other like mint and chocolate or gingerbread and eggnog.

Illustrations

For the illustrations in the book, they were sourced rather than created like I would with any other book, and I found some Nutcracker illustrations that fit the vibe that I was going for in a watercolor style. The colors are beautiful, vibrant green, reds, and soft pastels. I distributed the illustrations in the style of my page inspiration utilizing the large outside and bottom margins to arrange the illustrations around as ornamentation. I created a system in InDesign where I was able to create different parent pages that can be mixed and matched, to create more unique looks. A handful of original woodcut illustrations for the book are included, that I cleaned up digitally and recolored to sit comfortably within the palette.

Book Construction

Before committing to materials, I built dummies. These dummies would help me see what material decisions I needed to make and iron out any issues with the construction. This stage really came hand-in-hand with the design stage, in that I was creating dummies as I designed new drafts. It was in creating these that helped inform various design decisions like the size and type treatment. I also had to figure out issues like how intrusive the hinge felt when opened, how wide the central slit could be in proportion with the book size, and how large the tabs could be without overwhelming the page.

Eventually, the sizes were settled. Two-inch tall gold tabs and slits. One-inch wide locks. This kept everything in proportion with each other and maximized materials with less waste.

The materials followed the book design. Dark green book cloth for the case. Shimmering green endpapers. Gold cardstock tabs. Green locks. The text paper is a heavier cream stock—traditional, warm, and classic. The cover image was printed on inkjet canvas and mounted directly to the cover.

The last unresolved problem was presentation. Each section needed to be revealed daily, and I explored wrapping paper, envelopes, handwritten numbering—ideas that worked beautifully once but collapsed under repetition. Three days before the fair, the math became unavoidable. Precision notch-cutting alone accounted for hours. My goal was to create 10 books, at 130 signatures I was looking at a day and a half to cut the notches and another two to cut every wrapper.

In the end, I made a compromise. Printed number sheets and clear plastic sleeves replaced wrapping paper. I don’t typically like using plastic in my work, but it allowed me to get to the finish line.

Last Thoughts

The biggest thing that I learned from this was just how much development work goes into creating an artist book that is reproducible. When designing a traditional book, it is a lot simpler because I send it to a printer, whether Amazon or somewhere else, and they take care of everything. It’s a very standardized process that’s been done for years and years and years, and I don’t really have to worry about it.

Most of my previous artist books were made with the assumption that they would only ever exist once. This one forced me to think differently—not about mass production, but about duplication. What creative decisions will need to be made in order for this to made over and over again?

But that’s the price of doing something creative, and that’s something that I’ve learned in design, as well as art in general, is there are times where you have to make creative compromises. And that’s part of being creative is running into those limitations and real logistical life issues, and finding a creative and interesting solution that doesn’t compromise the heart of what you’re making.

I’m doing my second craft show this weekend.

It feels like the piano recitals I did as a kid, the same anxious feeling in my stomach, the overthinking. I’ve had several moments where I’ve thought about cancelling, the feelings of inadequacy mounting. I thought I’ve grown out of as a quickly approaching middle-age man, but some things never go away, I suppose.

Against my better judgment, I’m pressing forward offsetting the feelings of pending doom and inadequacy by making the process as fun as it can be. I had craft nights with friends with mulled wine and long talks while we worked on our projects by light of the Christmas tree. I listened to books—including a great one with —listened to so much Christmas music, and had quite a few baking sessions to de-stress.

There’s something healing about focusing on the process and how much fun it is to be absorbed so thoroughly in one’s craft. It makes me see a craft show as a natural extension of what comes next. You don’t rehearse a play to not put it on for the world to see. And I’m not making 100+ books to store in my closet.

A fellow artist and student in a workshop I attended last year at the Center for Book Arts in NYC said it perfectly and it’s haunted me since, she said, “Art is an offering, it’s humbling, you make it to the best of your ability and offer it to the world. What the world does with it is none of our business.” So, come this Saturday, my local art center becomes a temple and us crafts-people the devotees offering all we have to give.

This note by the incredible designer, , was the last bit of motivation needed to get across this finish line.

The Books

“What are you making?”

Great question, dear reader, I’m really excited about the stuff I’ve cooked up for this event. Handbound notebooks are a necessity, I have a great one that is bradel bound and the spine is bound in recycled kimono fabric that I picked up in Tokyo. It’s so gorgeous and pairs well with the dark green bookcloth.

Notebooks are great, but I also wanted to try some art books. I don’t see it a whole lot at craft fairs in my area, and may be a fun way to show all the different forms books can take. They’re also so much fun to make.

The first book I’ll have at my table is a Christmas village book. My mom always put out a little ceramic village, and I thought this would be a fun take on the Christmas village tradition. The paper is gold and has washi paper as the back panel—the pictured one uses different materials—and the cover will be made with recycled wrapping paper. It has a lamp effect so it’s recommended to pair with fairy lights for a magical glowing effect.

I’ll also have mini-book ornaments, they fully open and can be used to record holiday memories. I’ve made these as gifts in the past and had to include them!

The most ambitious project is this Nutcracker Advent book. The craft show is 13 days before Christmas, so I figure that is the perfect number to do an interactive Advent storybook. It’s an Australian reverse piano hinge book, meaning there are hinges or tabs and slits in each signature. The signature slides into the hinge and you slide a piece of paper to keep it in.

There are 13 signatures, each one individually wrapped with the day marked on the paper slider. Every evening, you unwrap and place it in the book and read it. By the time Christmas rolls around you have a fully bound book of the Nutcracker!

I have so much work to do before the event on Saturday, but the closer it gets the more excited I am. No matter what happens, it’s going to be so much fun. If you’re in the Greenville area, look up the Greenville Center for Creative Arts holiday market!

“Design is not just what it looks like and feels like.
Design is how it works.”
—Steve Jobs

Apple’s annual September iPhone event opened up with this very apt quote this past Tuesday. For the past decade, Apple and other smartphone companies seek to define—or redefine?—the experience of the smartphone. The promise of technology is to keep progressing forward, making it better and better and better. There’s very little rest for our techy friends, there’s always something to change or improve upon. An iPhone is considered “obsolete” by Apple after it’s been off shelves for a mere seven years.

Ever since the patent for the first telephone was issued to Alexander Graham Bell in 1876, it’s been an ever evolving object with the same basic function of connecting people together across vast distances. The telephone has manifested in a vast number of forms and experiences. A reminder of how early we still are in this object’s history.

You may be asking yourself, “That’s great, what does this have to do with books?” Not much, I supposed, but watching the Apple Event reminded me of the brilliance of the book. Not the book cover, not the interior, not the literature contained therein, but the form of the book itself—otherwise known as the codex. A cool name for a cool object.

The Unchanging Codex

As Steve Jobs observed, “It’s not just what it looks like, but what it feels like.” I’m going to take that literally. The codex is a book form that is about 2,000 years old. For comparison, the telephone will reach that age in the year 3901.

Oh, and the cool part—the codex has remained largely unchanged for that span of time. Can you imagine using an iPhone 17 Pro in the year 3901?

How these codices look has certainly changed over the years, but the design of the form—a series of pages (or folios) bound together between two covers—has stayed consistent. I may be biased, but I would consider it an example of perfect design.

Necessity is the Mother of Invention

The popularity of the codex book format came about during the rise of Christianity in the 1st century AD. Christianity was a burgeoning underground religion following the teachings of Jesus Christ. Part of this subversive movement was the spreading of this message—known to Christians the Great Commission. Holy Scriptures, like any religion, became a core part of Christianity, specifically the four Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John). The codex format allowed for the merging of multiple books into a compact format making it more portable. Writing on both sides of the paper—as opposed to a single side like on papyrus—made it more economical. Navigating through the book was large improvement. Instead of having to unroll a massive scroll, it became much easier for readers to find what chapter or page they were looking for.1

Prior to the codex, tablets, scrolls, and concertina books were the primary forms for written literature. In Greece and the Middle East, the region of the codex, papyrus scrolls were the predominant form of written communication and literature. In the transition from scroll to codex, papyrus would initially be used until the switch to parchment. This would be one of three major evolutions of the codex in its history—the other two being the transition from parchment to paper and the introduction of printing.

An Eternal Legacy

The codex today is synonymous with the book. The two are so intertwined that many people don’t know that a book takes many forms, some touched on above like the scroll and concertina. Book artists and some authors will experiment with these varying forms, and I’d like to talk about them more someday.

The apex of the design of the codex is considered to be the Codex Sinaiticus, seen below or view in person at the British Library. It’s three centuries into the codex development and refined to the point that from then on, no updates needed, never obsolete.

The codex is also credited with helping many ancient texts survive to the present day, the binding, cover method, and the durability of parchment has lasted many more centuries than papyrus.2

There’s so much that can be said about this incredible object. While reading has started to take on more forms throughout the years through kindles and audiobooks, it’s always the codex we keep coming back to again and again. In an era of rapid change and planned obsolescence, there’s something comforting about picking up a book—whether it’s 100 years old or fresh off the press—and knowing that it and the story therein is and will always be eternal.

Recommended Reading

1. The Medieval Scriptorium: Making Books in the Middle Ages by Sara J. Charles

2. The Birth of the Codex by C.H. Roberts & T.C. Skeat

3. Papyrus: The Invention of Books in the Ancient World by Irene Vallejo

4. The Bookmakers: A History of the Book in Eighteen Lives by Adam Smyth

5. The Book - The Story of Printing & Bookmaking by Douglas C. McMurtrie

First Impressions

Nothing provokes a stronger response from book lovers than a new cover design. Especially one that “tiktok-ifies” a beloved classic.

In this video essay by YouTuber and author Jack Edwards, he opens with a new book cover design for Jane Austen’s bibliography and explores the history and perception of romance novels. He touches on the audience reception to the covers—spoiler, not great—and whether they could be seen as disrespectful to a notable author like Jane Austen.

Romance covers have been dissected by many, so today, we’ll focus on the designs of Penguin’s “First Impressions” series (designed by Arabella Jones). Instead of giving my personal opinion, I’ll examine the goals, design techniques, and some strengths and weaknesses of the covers from a graphic designer’s perspective. There will be some detective work since we don’t have the original brief and pitch document, but hopefully this will demonstrate the type of thinking that goes into designing a book cover.

With that, let’s dive into it!

Creating a Concept

On Penguin’s website, they present their main direction for this collection as creating a connection between modern romcoms and Jane Austen’s novels. They are identified as a Young Adult collection—YA fiction mainly targets children between the ages of 12-18. Penguin describes their series as the following:

“With a stunning modern design and forewords from leading YA romance authors, this eye-catching six-book series is an open invitation to escape the brutal nonchalance of modern dating and embrace your inner romantic.”

In a time where reading among children is declining both in the US and the UK—where these editions are published—it makes sense for one of the Big 5 publishers to re-issue a collection of one of the most famous authors in the world and marketing it to that audience.

Bridging the cultural gap

This is not a new concept and is a method that has been used time and time again as a way to unite the author’s time period to ours. These reinterpretations bridge eras, testifying to Austen’s continued relevance. They offer a glimpse into the story through a contemporary lens. It’s not just capitalizing on a popular design trend, it’s speaking to the target audience—in this case 12-18 year olds—who may be unfamiliar with her or intimidated by the classics and creating a visual association with something more relatable.

It’s All in the Execution

The designer has the difficult job of balancing the contemporary with the past. She is creating a new interpretation of a book cover that has never been out of print for the better part of 200 years.

The new look

This is where the new covers succeed. The designer captures the visual style of contemporary romcoms and even elevates it. The designer blends both contemporary visual cues with traditional motifs like florals. The vibrant palette—rarely seen on Jane Austen titles or classics in general—adds freshness, shifting the tone from the classroom to a book club with the girls.

The illustrations have a flat, digital style seen on contemporary romance yet are rendered with more detail and with poses echoing classical portraiture.

Pushing the envelope… off the table

The biggest hurdle of reinterpreting a classic cover is knowing when you’ve gone too far, and I’ll preface by saying that Jane Austen is the one to take risks with. There are so many editions of her books and they’re not in danger of going out of print anytime soon, so why not go as far as you can? The worst thing that can happen is you have fun with it and it fades away. In the meantime, there will be teens who pick it up and get introduced to her books because of the covers. It’s a win-win when you think about it.

But there’s clearly a disconnect, so what’s causing it? The thing that I notice the most is the typography vs. the illustration, both are giving conflicting messages. The typography itself is fine, but it’s the placement of the author name. Using it as a pattern in the background tells me that this is speaking to an audience so familiar with Jane Austen and her books that her name can be the least prominent element and yet there is no question about who the author is.

The renderings of the illustrations conflict with that message because they are such a huge departure from what we know about the time period and how the books have been collectively depicted in popular media.

The dissonance we experience is from telling us that this is something familiar and recognizable while showing us the complete opposite. To most of us, a certain look has been ingrained in our heads of what Jane Austen should look and feel like, that these covers feel completely out of left field.

The other weak point is in the target audience itself. Take these stats with a grain of salt, but in my research, I found that an estimated 55% of YA readers are 19+. So YA books aren’t even reaching their nominal target audience. This is touched on in Edward’s video essay, he talks about this younger style of design being used for books with mature and often sexual themes. Some young people may pick up these new copies of Austen, but based on the data it’ll end up in front of an audience that is already familiar with her. It leaves us with the question, “who is the book really for?”

The Conclusion

You’re probably waiting for me to affirm the internet’s thoughts on these book covers. That they’re ugly, disrespectful of the classics, another pandering product to satiate TikTok’s urge to destroy everything good in this world. To which, I would say, no, I don’t think that. I think the designer and illustrator did a good job with what they were asked to do and given. They embraced a bold stylistic choice, especially with the characters—and with Austen, that seems like a fitting opportunity.

My main critique would be around the audience. That direction wasn’t clearly defined and that uncertainty shows in the final design. Not a fault of the designer, but from the brief. Clear direction is essential to crafting a successful design. You can’t guide a ship if you don’t know where you’re going.

Good question, Mr. Darcy. Let’s just say, I don’t disapprove of them and I definitely don’t see them as disrespectful of Jane Austen’s legacy. Rather, it’s a testament to her legacy and a recognition of her permanence in Western culture. This was intended for young teens—whether it reaches them or not—and they’re allowed to have fun with these stories. There’s an Austen cover for every kind of person, and there’s always room for one more.

The goal of writing these letters is really a way for me to process and attempt to put down on paper my artistic and design techniques as well as to jot down thoughts and approaches to creativity. I suppose it’s a live brain dump from a creative who’s tired of not having a solid answer to the question, “What made you choose art and design?”

I had a conversation with a friend recently about whether there is a “proper” way to engage with art, and it’s something I’ve thought about a lot. Especially as I design book covers and begin creating my own work, there’s a tendency to think: Yes, there is. The viewer needs to take away exactly what I intended. I want them to listen to me, not me to them. I love the quote by Rick Rubin from his book, The Creative Act, and how he points out that great art is made up not just of the freedom of self-expression but also the freedom of the receiver’s thought. The honesty of both can create something magical and something entirely human.

When I’m creating artist’s books, it’s for me. Like most people, feelings of being invisible or unseen are all too common. Inserting myself where I tell myself I don’t belong, like on this platform here, writing this letter, is very uncomfortable. Yet, it’s important to understand that our voices are important and it is worth using. Our thoughts and feelings have value even we feel like no one sees or hears us.

I love to sing at home around the house, and recently I realized that when I was singing it was close to a whisper like I was afraid of disturbing those around me. But, I live alone. It’s silly to be afraid to sing in your own home. There was liberation in belting out Les Mis while washing dishes. In the same way, there’s freedom and liberation in letting your imagination, curiosity, and creativity run wild and free. Why place artificial limitations when you’re creating for yourself? It’s daunting and intimidating, we want what we make to be great and perfect, when really, we should be setting ourselves free. As I finish books, I publish some online or show them to friends. Seeing their interpretation and reactions is so much fun to see. Sometimes there’s confusion, sometimes apathy, but mostly, very kind remarks. Seeing how people respond, when having no expectations, creates a beautiful moment that helps me value what I’ve made even more.

It can feel like there’s a “wrong” way to engage with art—when someone seems disinterested or doesn’t take it seriously. But that’s the beauty of art: a single piece becomes something different for everyone. That makes creating both scary and exciting. What will I say through my art? And how will others respond?

Note: Portions of this newsletter was part of a contribution submission included in Should You Consider a Book Cover Redesign? by Eleanor Hecks for I Need a Book Cover.

What is a good book cover?

Ask 100 people and you’ll probably get 100 different answers. I love what the designer, Peter Mendelsund and English scholar, David Alworth, say in The Look of the Book, “the book cover is a first look at the text and a visual rendering of what the text says: it is both an interpretation and a translation from verbal into visual signifiers.” In their book, they open with the variety of emotions a book cover can convey and the collaboration required between designer/author and commercial/creative.

A good book cover will understand the commercial and storytelling context in which it is entering while also interpreting the unique voice of the text it represents. If you are a writer for a specific genre, a professional writing non-fiction books, or have a set of books set in the same world, branding can come into play.

Below, I’ve tried to breakdown three considerations when designing a book cover for a brand.

Understand the trends

Looking at what is trending within your genre is a great place to start as it can help build a framework for what your cover should resemble. This is the commercial context. Understanding what is trending can help you decide how to meet it or when to buck the trend.

One trend that has been happening in the last few years is the use of bold, saturated colors. It’s appeared in typography, flat colorful backgrounds, and colorful imagery, across multiple genres. Kaveh Akbar’s Martyr! and R.F. Kuang’s Yellowface both use a bold yellow, paired with minimal, symbolic imagery that compliments the bold stories they tell. Romance novels like The Love Hypothesis and Red, White & Royal Blue by authors Ali Hazelwood and Casey McQuiston, respectively, utilize bright colors and illustrations to set a tone that’s playful and romantic. The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin use color to give us a sense of time and place. All of these covers utilize the trend of color in specific ways to communicate the unique stories that they tell.

Balance originality with market expectations

This has always been a delicate tightrope to walk. Book covers utilize art and can even become art, but it is also a commercial product that needs to cater to the market’s expectations. If a fantasy romance doesn’t look like a fantasy romance, there’s a good chance that the right audience won’t pick it up.

Originality and market expectations can be balanced by understanding the book and the themes with what is currently on the market for the book’s genre. By applying the first step of understanding market trends, we can start comparing that to what makes the book unique. This is the storytelling context. Originality can come out of questioning how to manipulate market trends—e.g. What would a gothic thriller look like without black? Or what would a romance look like without florals?—as well as bringing in elements that express the uniqueness of the book.

Faces on biographies and memoirs have been a trend for a while. You’ve seen them, a bold portrait paired a with sleek, sans-serif font. It’s effective and an immediate eye catcher. Especially considering their face and recognizability can be a big part of the subject’s brand. A great portrait on a memoir can say a lot about how they want to be perceived and what they want you to know about themselves. Miller Mobley, the photographer of Michelle Obama for Becoming, seeks to take photos that are honest and capture the soul of the sitter. The covers for comedians Colin Jost and Trevor Noah’s memoirs both play on the trend but with their own twist that showcases their personality and social context. The cover for Ruth Bader Ginsburg: A Life bucks the trend entirely, opting for an austere and minimal cover representing her legacy as a United States Supreme Court Justice.

When self-publishing, there can be even more freedom to explore and open yourself up to new approaches. This is something that author, , would discuss with the designer of his memoir, Fringes: Life on the Edge of Professional Rugby. Self-publishing is a bold action and it opens the door for bold takes on trends. It can be an opportunity to take an intentional approach to show how you are different rather than following a trend just because it’s what others do.

Maintain visual cohesion

Your brand identity is made up of your values and messaging. A book cover communicates those to your audience. Maintaining a visual cohesion will maintain a uniformity of messaging across a set of books, whether they be in the same universe or of a similar genre.

Two series that apply this in an exceptional way are Matt Griffin’s illustrative covers for the Dune trilogy and the new cover art for A Song of Ice and Fire by Faceout Studio. Both give a bold vision for legacy book series that are major multimedia franchises with passionate fanbases. It’s intimidating and steeped in established visual language. Griffin for Dune and the artists behind ASOIAF offer an exciting new look at their respective series without letting themselves be encumbered with the visual history. It’s refreshing, bold, and beautiful.

The new art for the UK editions of Stephen King by Hodder & Stoughton reimagines his extensive bibliography with bold colors, evocative imagery, and a consistent typeface and placement for his name—keep these things consistent to help the reader know what to expect, plus it looks nice. The Cycle of the Werewolf and The Dark Tower series are great examples of how the books can maintain an independent identity while staying consistent with the new brand style. The pulp fiction-esque illustration of The Cycle of the Werewolf gives it a classic horror vibe. At the same time, The Dark Tower series sets itself apart from the rest of the brand by using a heavy monochromatic color palette. The illustration style is fantastical and abstract, giving a visual cue that the series lives independently within King’s body of work. When you see the collection together, you can start to see what elements they’ve chosen to represent the brand and where they’ve deliberately chosen to break their own rules.

Conclusion

Designing a book cover is a reminder that there is a world and visual language outside of ourselves and it can be a delicate dance to find where to keep things familiar and where to highlight our uniqueness. To quote former US VP Kamala Harris, “You think you just fell out of a coconut tree?”

At the end of the day, though, rules were made to be broken. Ask yourself, what is going to serve this book the best? And remember that the best book covers are the ones that invite and entice you into the world that lies beneath it.

Outside of client work, I didn’t produce a lot of art and opted to focus on online courses and mindful consumption of art. I have a propensity to consume mindlessly, always saving and pinning with the intention of revisiting it, but never actually getting around to it. The mindless consuming led to an overload of ideas and into the deep well of imposter syndrome. My goal was to keep a journal of everything I saw and what stood out, learn new techniques, and to cut out using social media as a source of “inspiration”. While social media is helpful, it’s hard to stop and think about what you’re seeing. Galleries and museums can be overwhelming, but being in a space in person made it easier to tune out the noise and stand in front of a piece and really see it.

What I saw

One question that kept coming up throughout the year is, “What makes art matter?” We create for ourselves as a means of expression but—maybe this the designer part of me—we want our art to be seen and enjoyed. If people don’t see it, does it even matter?

At the MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) in New York City hangs one of the most famous and loved works of art, The Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh. Nearly everyone in the gallery was drawn to this painting, ignoring all of the other great pieces around it. It was like an artistic black hole, you couldn’t help but try and catch a glimpse. On one hand, The Starry Night is a testament to the power of art to bring people together and transcend from paint on a canvas to something so much more.

It’s a beautiful experience to see how one painting can draw people in. On the other hand, to acknowledge this is to imply that all the other paintings in the room don’t have the power to affect people and are meaningless.

What I learned

I’ve never heard anyone say such explicitly—and maybe it’s all in my head—but the pressure is there to create for an audience. Largely, I think, because the larger the audience, the more monetary value an art piece has. Good art can be sold, great art can be sold for millions. There’s tension—when art/creativity is your job—to create something that is self-expressive and something that has wide appeal. Ideally, it does both. In one of my courses, I brought up this tension and asked the other artists in the class how they resolve this tension. One of them said something that I will never forget. She said that art is an offering; we create and offer it to the public, and from there, we let go of control. There’s an immense vulnerability to offering something of yourself and letting go of the outcome. The act of creating is intrinsically beautiful, and there’s a freedom to not worrying about its long-term impact and monetary value. We create for ourselves as a gift to others.

Van Gogh may have never seen the impact that his painting would have on people, but in its early unknown state, it was still a fully realized and meaningful work of art. Rick Rubin says in his book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being, that great art is to “make it for no other purpose than creating our version of the beautiful, bringing all of ourself to every project… We do the best, as we see the best—with our own taste. No one else’s.”

Conclusion

It seems delusional to think one’s thoughts or feelings are a worthy offering to others and the world. But to tie it back to the man whose work sparked these thoughts, in a letter to his brother, van Gogh wrote,

“I want to reach the point where people say of my work, that man feels deeply and that man feels subtly. Despite my so-called coarseness—you understand—perhaps precisely because of it. It seems pretentious to talk like this now, but that’s why I want to push on.

What am I in the eyes of most people? A nonentity or an oddity or a disagreeable person—someone who has and will have no position in society, in short a little lower than the lowest.

Very well—assuming that everything is indeed like that, then through my work I’d like to show what there is in the heart of such an oddity, such a nobody.

This is my ambition, which is based less on resentment than on love in spite of everything, based more on a feeling of serenity than on passion.

Even though I’m often in a mess, inside me there’s still a calm, pure harmony and music.”

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Why do you love to view art and/or create? The creative journey is one of continual learning, let me know your thoughts and experiences!

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Thanks for checking out my newsletter! I’m hoping to use this platform as a space to document my journey as a freelance designer and book artist. I want to explore what it really means to be creative and to make art. These are my unfiltered thoughts around that as I go on this journey and hopefully will help you in your creative journey as well! I love to hear other people’s thoughts so please feel free to comment your thoughts and use this space as an open platform on the pains and joys of creating.

Below is an excerpt from an interview I did for an online magazine SC Voyager where I talk a little about my background and my creative journey up to today.

Hi Josh, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.

At the age of seven, I received two life-changing gifts. A gorgeously illustrated collection of fairy tales and a box set of The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, illustrated by the icon Pauline Baynes. It was the first time I remember thinking how beautiful books can be. Of course, I loved the stories but the rich, red illustrated vignette pattern printed on the case of the fairy tale collection made me excited to read a new story while the illustrations of Pauline Baynes sent me through the wardrobe with the Pevensies to Narnia. The books as an object captured the magic of the stories inside and helped me realize how a book’s design doesn’t just complement the story but in many ways enhance it.

Unlike many of my art and design peers, I didn’t grow up drawing, painting, or doing anything remotely “artistic”. A career in the arts and serious artistic pursuits was something that was never thought of in my working-class, military family. But we read a lot. No genre was left untapped, no author left undiscussed and while we had no career artists in our family, creative thinking was constantly encouraged and nurtured.

This created a tension of wanting to create but not knowing how. After playing around with a pirated version of Photoshop in high school and making a plethora of Twilight-themed banners for hire online, I found I loved making things for people. Someone had to be making book covers for authors in the same way I was creating forum graphics for randos online. I tried making a connection between what I was making with a computer science degree, but realized very quickly that classes in physics and calculus were not going to get me closer to creating things. It took one person telling me, “You should study graphic design. Study art” and I packed my bags and moved halfway around the world to live in a foreign country all alone and study in a field I had zero background or knowledge in.

One BFA and ten years of hard work later, I am now several years into a thriving freelance career as a book designer working with independent authors and publishers to bring their stories to life. At the same time, I’m exploring my own creative voice through the medium of book arts and bookbinding, combining my love for books with my desire to create.

Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?

Leaving home for my degree is still one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Until three years ago when I took the ultimate leap of faith and went freelance full-time, focusing on designing book covers and book interiors. Fighting through the unknown and self-doubt was and is still something I deal with on a daily basis.

At university, I was told by one professor that print was dead and by another that I would never make it as a designer. In my ten year career, I’ve worked almost entirely in print with six of those years working exclusively with books. Through it all, it’s the books and the stories of writers that inspire me. There’s no greater joy than seeing someone’s face light up with pure joy on seeing their writings turned into a book. As a book designer, I can help writers transcend a thought or dream into something real and tangible. There’s no way I’m not going to keep doing that for a living. I’m grateful that print is alive and well, I can make a living from it. After ten years and several awards, I would say I have, in fact, made it.

What else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?

My creative work has two main facets. First, as a book designer, I design book covers and layout the interiors of books for independent authors and publishers. I’m proud that that work has led to me being a finalist this year at the Next Generation Indie Book Awards for Overall Book Design of one of my favorite books, 1895: A Novel of Love and War. I’ve also recently helped lead a design team in designing twenty children’s picture books for Avenue A books, a social-emotional learning publisher.

The second aspect of my work is in book arts, a lesser-known, not often talked about field that uses the object of the book as a means of expression. While traditionally, the book’s form serves the written word, in book arts, the form is the primary vehicle of expression and the writing secondary or non-existent. I’m exploring this medium to develop my personal creative voice, explore creativity, and push the boundaries of book design. In a field that lives and breathes convention stretching back five hundred plus years, throwing it all out and creating unique and unconventional books provides an avenue to see where my personal creativity can take me.

The piece pictured below that I’ve titled “Journey” is a book arts piece that embodies my entire creative journey so far. I made it on the 10th anniversary of my graduation from university and while it has no legible text, the book itself is made of ephemera throughout my time at university. Through grade sheets, notes from friends, programs for art shows and concerts, they create a unified whole that has helped define and shape me and my art. This is just one example of an art book that expresses through form instead of words.

For those interested in learning more about this unconventional approach to books, I’d recommend reading Ulises Carrión’s The New Art of Making Books.