When asked to write a piece on representation for Spine, I immediately wondered why I was asked? In my opinion, plenty has been written on the subject. Frankly, I’m often wrangled into similar conversations with my publishing peers. These are always awkward, so did I really want to write a piece on representation in book covers? Call it explanation-fatigue, but I really did hesitate.
Surprisingly, I’m a serious and cynical person. I don’t look like one. I have a dimpled, round face, often bordered by pigtails and occasionally . . . I . . um . . . skip. Looking like a cherub who bounces will make people come to the semi-logical conclusion that you are, well, light-hearted.
But it’s not true, sorry. I’m jaded. All my jokes are sarcastic. And I often want to laugh aloud when terrible things happen, because I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. More importantly this jaded seriousness comes from experience. My life was never a Rockwell painting. I was a tough cookie early on. Nope, I was never the girl who read the uplifting books, because they just didn’t show the world I knew, which has led me to some GREAT books. And you guessed it, they’re cynical and often sad, some of the best ones are really tortured.
Sometimes books can feel like a cozy place we come back to for the comfort they provide. There are books people read because they can predict what’s going to happen. Like B movies, they’re just a fun break from reality, where nothing really unexpected happens. And sometimes we need that noir novel, or easy thriller, to get us through the day.
All the #metoo posts got me thinking about how women everywhere needed to feel they were not alone anymore. Do you know what the loneliest feeling is? Thinking you are alone. An odd (wo)man out. The person who humorlessly “doesn’t get it”.
Some people can only feel satiated by power. And they feel most powerful when they can take power by diminishing others. When silencing or bullying others, they convince themselves of their supremacy. And one of the most effective disguises of their true harmful intentions is humor.
One morning Eric Wilder sent me an email at 9:00 am. He asked if I had seen a new Guardian article about UK book cover design. Did I mention it was at 9:00 am? I'm not a rational person at 9:00 am, so I knew he had to be serious.
He sent the article, but I was mystified by his urgency, till I read the thing. It was extremely familiar. Some version of this article comes around every so often. To make a long story short, it claimed UK cover design was the envy of the world, and had always been better than US design. And Eric wanted me to pen a rebuttal. I read the piece and sent him my response. I wasn’t interested in getting in the middle of the old rehashed nationalistic argument.
Eric and I have been talking about collaborating for a while. My interest was piqued when a few months ago he sent me an email asking me if I would write semi-regularly for Spine. But I can't tell you the immediate panic that came over me. I mean yes, I’ve been writing my blog for a while. Yes, I wanted to write different kinds of things for different kinds of audiences. But how would it work? So it's funny that when I finally committed to writing something, Eric decides that purple covers were interesting in that week. Because it's a color I literally feel nothing about.
