Sue Campbell writes about design, books, writing, art, & life …

I’m enjoying the discussions of the covers for Breath. The interesting thing about cover design is that it’s largely subjective. What appeals to people is depends on their backgrounds, their preferred genres, their cultures, education, socio-economic level, and gender among other things. With all the variables it’s a wonder we can agree on anything! But there are some truisms around genre and covers that do seem to be valid—until somebody bucks a trend and then new “rules” come into being — for a while. Though good design is good design and bad design is bad based on some basic rules of aesthetics, and composition regardless of genre.

But enough pontificating! Let’s move on to Brett Stanfill’s entry titled: Confessions of the Dearly Departed.

First of all, don’t you just love the title?! I did.  Here’s the synopsis and excerpt.

Synopsis

Confessions of the Dearly Departed follows five strangers in the events leading up to one fateful moment when their lives intersect tragically. Four lives will be changed forever, while one ends abrubtly.

Excerpt

I didn’t expect to die when I woke up that morning. Some people say that in nursing homes people have seen dark figures standing over the beds of those preparing to depart. I didn’t. I didn’t glow, there was no strange buzzing in my ears, no extra long periods of deja-vu, nothing. Just a normal day that ended with my not so ordinary eternal slumber, or something like it.

Now it would take all the excitement and mystery out of death to tell you what happens in the thereafter, so don’t get the idea that I am here to enlighten you to the mysteries of the universe. As I said before, there were no signs that the grim reaper was upon me so I can’t give you any hints to escape death either. Really, I’m no more extraordinary in death than I was in life. Unless, of course, you consider the fact that I am indeed dead. Which I’m sure is intriguing to some.

Death is not an instant, it’s a process. It’s a series of events that leads up to the inevitable moment of departure. We all make choices in life, and those choices have the ability to pave the road on which we ride, either into the geriatric monotony of elderly life or the grave itself. We really don’t know which road we’ve been paving until the lights go out in our very souls, and by then it’s much too late to change directions.

That synopsis is pretty short, right? I know. But there was something about the premise that I liked. The excerpt read with just a touch of irony. It was the irony, the voice, and the premise that got me. I think we’ve all heard literary reviewers, and writing instructors say you should never start a story with somebody waking up, or to insinuate something was all a dream. But this is different. I am very intrigued to find out how the story gets told from the view point of a dead character.

Alas, I read into the entry something that maybe isn’t there. It’s a good thing I contacted Brett for more info, because what I thought might be comedic in tone, it turns out might be a more serious treatment  — that wasn’t the intent. The genre, he says is, “literary.” (Designer scratches her noggin and says. Hmm.)

Alright. It’s not funny. But it is literary. Literary covers tend to be “quieter.” They’re not busy for the most part. They do make use of symbolic images (though most other genre covers do too). They don’t depend on a lot of special effects or splashy elements. And they are absolutely all over the place in terms of style. They are a bit tough to peg, and it’s easiest to point to what they are NOT like. They are not like thrillers, which are generally dark with large (tall skinny) titles, usually with foil. They are not like fantasy or scifi, which typically have detailed illustrations and unique typestyles. And they are not like chick lit, which is a category unlike most others—you know it when you see it. Romance is often just like scfi/fantasy but with the lovers illustrated and flowing script.

Given that the “rules” for literary fiction are loose I have three fairly diverse ideas.

Confessions 1: With this simple cover I hoped to say, “Hey! This is a different story. Somebody dies, but that’s not the point. Look the somebody is the main character!” Can you tell I said that without showing a person on the cover? I hope so, or at least I hope the cover is intriguing enough that you’ll pick it up to see what the backcover copy says. It’s no accident that I echoed the color palette of another book in which the main character is dead, The Lovely Bones. Did I copy the design? Indeed not. Though the color, simplicity, and arrangement of elements does draw comparison. Why?

There is a similarity of the narrator’s state of being, and it’s currently a successful movie and bestselling book, so why not draw a comparison. If you’re going to seek to be sucessful, then compare yourself with success. You are who you hang with…? Maybe.

Confessions 2: This one is a little less irreverent, a little more serious. In this case I wanted the cover to convey that something tragic has happened, that a death has occurred and it’s important to the story. It’s probably more important to evoke a tone and an emotional background.

This more conservative approach fits the literary genre too, and also commercial fiction. It says to me, this is no comedy, yet the title says it’s about somebody who dies and has something to own up to.

I like the image that conveys grief, and the subdued color, and understated typography.

Confessions 3: The third cover is a bit darker. I waffled about even going here. It’s sort of straddling the line between general fiction and horror or thriller. The link to death is obvious, the typography possibly “tastes” too much like horror or fantasy. Nevertheless, it’s another take on a theme of a main character being deceased. You could look at it in a couple ways, it’s either creepy in a good way, or creepy in a tongue in cheek way. Or maybe it’s just creepy.

What? Creepy can be good.

Let the opinions fly!

Tags: art, bookcover, contest, cover, critique, design