The expression “don’t judge a book by its cover” is potentially one of the most common idioms within a literary context. The idea stems from George Eliot’s The Mill on the Floss, and suggests that as readers, we should look beyond the superficiality of a book cover and focus on the content. However, upon browsing the multitude of books at any contemporary bookshop, it’s difficult to not get sucked in by the individual noise produced by each book. Each carefully curated shelf forces us to make a choice based primarily on the sliver of an impression we gather from the spine. So, with every book screaming at us from the shelves, are we really so wrong to judge the cover?
The end of the 19th century prompted a big change for the style of books, especially their covers. The use of dust jackets allowed for a more creative approach. Yet, as covers began to take on different forms and symbolise content within novels, it’s key to think about how this may spoil a book by highlighting some of the central themes and plot twists before we’ve even read a word. Additionally, controversial covers may discourage readers entirely. For example, the majority of Henry Miller’s works were banned for decades. This was likely due to their overtly sexual content which didn’t sit well with the conservative values in the United States during the 1930s, yet I’m sure the semi-nude figures on the cover didn’t help.
Realistically, many readers will choose what they deem “the prettiest” version of a book—I myself sometimes fall victim to this. But with the average paperback costing just over £10, is it such a problem that we spend our money on something we enjoy? Realistically, the ever changing nature of the publishing industry makes us question how long it will be before physical books become as obsolete as cassette tapes or even DVDs. So whilst we live in an age where we can peacefully escape technology, shouldn’t we just enjoy that?
In truth, it takes a small army to create a great book cover. Whilst we can appreciate each book for its uniqueness, we shouldn’t feel guilty for choosing a favourite. In the end, we should focus on the individuality of each book and appreciate the combination of both art and literature.
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