As much as the old saying tells us not to, we all judge books by their covers. I also feel like the cover design game has been particularly strong recently, and why not celebrate that by sharing a few of my favourites? Compiling them for this post, I quickly noticed an obvious (if very specific) trend that I clearly adore when it comes to design: realistic/anatomical images combined with floral/natural motifs. I suppose it makes sense, as there’s something beautiful and unsettling about the unlikely mix, which is basically my ideal vibe for a book.
After grouping all of the covers that fell into that category together, I expected the rest of my favourites to be a mishmash of random designs, but as it turns out, they also fit a type: bar one, they’re all illustrative rather than photographic, they all incorporate animal imagery, and there’s a very definite colour palette. Evidently, I know what I like on a cover, even if I didn’t realise it before making this post! Without further ado, here they are; my favourite covers, organised into the two groups mentioned above.
What are some of your favourite book covers?
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This short from Tor Books is about a mission to make contact – and attempt to draw up a peace treaty – with the first newly discovered alien race. It has many hallmarks of classic sci-fi, and is a quick, engaging read, but it’s the subtext that helps this one stand out – even if it does become a little heavy-handed by the end. Essentially, the story is a riff on the idea of what constitutes power, and where, as a society, we place credence. Chiefly, Older asks the reader to consider why we feel compelled to supress pain.
This graphic memoir of Frida Kahlo offers a particularly insightful look into life with chronic pain, and the transformative power of art. It’s very interestingly structured, both in its forgoing of traditional panels in favour of a freeform layout, and in its narrative framing, with the book presented as though a first-person discussion between Kahlo and Death. Having suffered many losses throughout her life, and flirted dangerously close to death many times herself, this has effective thematic resonance.
Reading a collection of Duffy’s poetry is an odd experience, in that her work often oscillates between the clumsily blatant and the impenetrably obscure. When she strikes the sweet spot between the two, there’s no denying her ability to pack a punch with a limited word count. The highlights here were the poems that explored the loss of her mother, particularly the pieces, ‘Water’ and ‘Cold’.
This encyclopaedia of gods, monsters, and mortals from Ancient Greece serves as a fantastic entry point or reference guide for those at all interested in mythology. The book highlights 50 key figures, and though the text for each character isn’t exactly exhaustive, we’re given a condensed snapshot of their role within the canon, and a few interesting facts about them. Seasoned myth enthusiasts are unlikely to learn anything new, as such, but having been written by a Classics scholar and Greek mythology expert, the information is succinct and reliable.
“Horizontal collaboration” is a term coined to describe French women who embarked on romantic or sexual relationships with German soldiers during Occupation. This graphic novel opens in the present day, with a young woman visiting her elderly grandmother, lamenting the complexities of modern love. This inspires her grandmother to finally open up about her own past, divulging the details of a tragic love affair she became entangled in back in 1942.
Walden’s science-fiction epic is a graphic novel told across two timelines. The first follows Mia as she befriends and falls in love with Grace, the new girl at school. The second, which plays out simultaneously, follows Mia several years later as she joins the crew of a ship that travels around the galaxy, repairing historic buildings. It becomes clear that she has an ulterior motive, however. Having lost all contact with Grace for more than five years, she wants to find and reconnect with her first love, to make peace with the way they parted company.
In this deeply personal yet outwardly ambitious graphic memoir, Thi Bui recounts her family’s experience of displacement following the collapse of South Vietnam in the wake of the war, and their attempts to resettle in the US.
This gem of a book celebrates some of the most ground-breaking and inspiring female writers from throughout history. The title, and the book’s overarching theme, comes from the assertion that their way with words – their ability to conjure worlds and incite emotion – is in itself a kind of magic. Like those accused of witchcraft, many of these writers were vilified for refusing to adhere to societal expectations, but by challenging the norm and embracing their talent, they were able to forge their own power and agency.
