When I
first saw the cover by Bradley Sharp for a book of mine about to be released
(it was The Man Who Loved Alien
Landscapes), I was in the hospital recovering from back surgery performed
by three specialist surgeons. The surgery happened after months of inexplicable
neck pains, frightful double vision, and signs of bizarre destructive activity in
my spinal column. I was feeling better—the surgery was successful—but also realizing that the recovery would be long.
And then came a sudden gift from
the cloud. It was my best moment there in the hospital.
I received, by email on my
iPhone, the image of the cover for my upcoming book, which was my very first
novel.
I became sooooo happy!
I had been worried, not knowing
what the cover would be like, and having recently seen several books (for a favorite author) with covers I felt were completely inappropriate (not by Brad).
But Brad’s rendition brought me not
only a surge of relief but an uplift of joy. I was thrilled with it--with its
suggestive accuracy, its emotional appeal, its symbolic rendition of the
protagonist’s longings.
I showed it to every nurse
and physician who came into my room.
I didn’t think a later reveal
could match the euphoria felt on seeing the cover to my first novel for
the first time (I wrote about it in an earlier blog entry), but when Bradley
Sharp is the artist, a second experience is just as exciting.
See the official cover reveal from Dog Star Books here. I reprint the cover below, but both covers can be seen in the column to the right of this entry.
I have only those two examples so far (I saw his other covers but I hadn't read the books), yet I can see in them characteristics that would make both writer and reader mighty grateful for what he can do.
See the official cover reveal from Dog Star Books here. I reprint the cover below, but both covers can be seen in the column to the right of this entry.
I have only those two examples so far (I saw his other covers but I hadn't read the books), yet I can see in them characteristics that would make both writer and reader mighty grateful for what he can do.
First, he obviously looks into
the manuscript to get ideas. When a cover is commissioned, authors receive
questionnaires sent by the publisher that ask for short paragraph descriptions
of the protagonist, the antagonist, the setting, and recommendations for what
the cover could show, which are then sent to the artist. Busy artists might use this material exclusively
and never look at the actual manuscript at all. But Brad puts ideas into his covers that obviously come from his own examination of the
manuscript--he does his homework, and it
shows. The first cover included
specifics about the jungle setting, its layers of growth, the “underworld” of
luminescent vegetation, none of which were included in the description I sent. And
the second cover has details in the misty section (see the square-rigger?) that also were not part of my questionnaire and yet do appear in the book.
Second, he can translate verbal
ideas into visual images, making suggestions or even symbols of more
abstract concepts from the story. In both
novels, there’s a deep connection between the protagonist and the alien planets
he visits. The spread arms of the figure
in the first cover represents this idea perfectly, as does the contemplative
stance of the person--the protagonist again--in the second cover. These images convey ideas
unconsciously accepted by the viewer: the first figure “loves” the landscape,
and the second is wary but fascinated, sensing a connection between himself and
what he’s looking at, which could be threatening. And the way the whitish mist (with its
mysterious objects) is aligned with the head of the person suggests that such a
connection might be closer than he expects (which is a major plot point).
Third, the composition. Both covers use an overall symmetry (with
necessary exceptions to it), which provides a sense of stasis or order in the midst
of peculiar alien phenomena. The visual
balance is like a pause, a moment of poised observation of an object that causes wonder and fear—with a notion that the wonder transcends the fear. (This kind of symmetry reminds me of the best
of Stanley Kubrick, his use of balance in 2001, of course, but even The Shining, to confront
obscure and frightening phenomena.)
And fourth, the detail. I mentioned the minutiae of the jungle in the
first cover but also, if you look closely, you can see a ring-shape lurking
in the sky (this refers to Annulus, a habitat in space that’s a setting in the
novel). And in the second cover, the “illuminated
forest” and its various colors are highlighted with a glowing mist in between
the trees—depicting the shape of the boughs, but also suggestive of the strangeness of the growth. And note how the objects in the white
mist—tentacles, arches, undefined structures—are different from the more
natural ones around it, the forest and the cliffs. This contrast is part of the story. And the mound behind the mist, even taller
than what I imagined in the novel, is appropriately overwhelming for the
protagonist. (And, yes, those oval
objects are eyes.)
So, if the point of a cover
artist is to convey, in one stark and immediate image, the overall mood and
idea of the novel, then both these covers succeed very well. The accuracy of
the feelings conveyed might not be noticed on a first viewing (the novel
must be read for that), but it’s still conveyed, and it reaches the visual part of the
mind if not yet the verbal. But that's exactly what it should do--hit the brain immediately
with a memorable impression.
Hey, maybe I write these books just so
I can see the cover Brad will produce for them.
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