The Joy of Objects
Human beings love stuff.
From as young as two-years-old we understand that objects can be possessed, can become part of ourselves, that we can own something.
As Dr. Christian Jarrett (staff journalist at The Psychologist) puts it, “Our things embody our sense of self-hood and identity... becoming external receptacles for our memories, relationships and travels.”
In short, objects reflect who we are. We need them, we collect them, sometimes we even marry them. (Objectophilia – it's a thing, look it up).
In recent years, more and more book covers have made use of the object. Done correctly and a single item can embody an entire narrative. And it seems to be that the more banal the item, the better. Everyday things that we wouldn't usually look twice at are now elevated to the level of “art” (basically a modern day resurrection of the philosophy of Andy Warhol).
The following ten covers make the most effective use of the single item. I love the simplicity of these designs, the use of space, the integration of object and text. The way they all make wonderful use of contrasting colours to make the object pop. The brain's attention is caught by the juxtaposition – a (seemingly) random, mundane object placed against a vibrant background.
Instead of going with the aforementioned vacuum, Alex chooses to go with the much sexier feather duster, reminiscent of naughty French maids, which speaks to the edgy naughtiness of the book.
An illustrated jar of pickles is a great way to symbolise the kosher dill pickles that Jewish immigrants introduced to America in the late 1800s early 1900s.
This egg carton is a perfect metaphor for the themes of this book – right down to its lonely little (possibly out-of-date) egg.
The vibrant colours let you know this although this YA novel deals with complex themes of the nature of belief, identity and control, it's not all doom and gloom. The canned food with it's hastily applied label brings to mind Doomsday preppers and the end of the world.
Another of Alex Merto's, the half-eaten popsicle is a fun play on the title. And a great example of text integrated into the object.
The combination of the lighter and the beautiful burnt orange background allude to the intensity (and the many fires) of this book.
The disposable coffee cup. Emblem of the trendy upwardly-mobile with money to burn, this object captures the heady years of America's tech boom featured in the novel.
This cover is just one in a series of Lucia Berlin reissues that utilise objects. I chose this one because of the perfect way the polaroids indicate that it's a memoir and sets it in the past.
The sign hanging on the doorknob immediately brings to mind hotel rooms and illicit affairs. This is at odds with the primness of the title, which results in intriguing the reader further. The contrasting colours are simply stunning.
You were expecting a knife right? Lauren Harms eschews the obvious and instead chooses to represent the work of the characters with a nail file. Note “stories” sitting unobtrusively on tip, genius.
Editor, artworker and lifelong bibliophile.