Reading

I’m drowning in books! My nightstand barely has space for my alarm clock and a drink. Behold Exhibit A:

That overflowing purple box is filled with books and those are paperbacks climbing my wall like a creeping vine.

And that doesn’t even account for what’s on my Kindle or what I’ve pre-ordered.

Speaking of pre-ordering, I just attempted to pre-order a book I’d already pre-ordered. I guess I REALLY want that book.

Alas my eyes are bigger than my mouth. No, that’s not right. My brain is bigger than my eyes. Not right either. What’s the correct term for wanting to HAVE read vs. being able TO read? If there isn’t already a term for the disconnect that leads to hoarding of intellectual materials, we need to come up with one.

How about: bibliohoardapath? First, a disclaimer. I did not take Greek or Latin so there are probably much better root words to use that what I’ve chosen. Feel free to comment and make your own suggestions.

Bibliohoardapath /bib-lee-oh-hord-uh-path/, n. one whose acquisition and consumption speeds of the written word are significantly out of sync; bibliohoardapathology– n. the mindless acquisition of books at a pace far outstripping the ability to consume; bibliohoardapathetic– adj. the state of being a bibliohoardapath or exhibiting characteristics of such; Antonym–Anbibliopath, one who is starving for lack of books. (shudder)

Why aren’t there enough hours in the day to read?

I love that old Twilight zone episode with Burgess Meredith, “Time Enough At Last“. He’s this bookish little man with absolutely no social skills whatsoever. If he had his way, all the people of the world would vanish, leaving him with all the time in the world and nothing to do but read.

Careful what you wish for, because that’s exactly what happens. Only, Rod Serling added a cruel twist. After Burgess’s character realizes the world’s population except for him has been decimated, he rubs his hands together and organizes his reading materials. While crowing about his good fortune, however, he drops and shatters his glasses on a rock. He is the only man alive, surrounded by books, but no ability to see to read them. Classic Twilight Zone at its finest.

So, re-evaluating, better to be a bibliohoardapath than an anbibliopath; and time is a precious commodity to be enjoyed at its own pace and divided healthfully between that which must be done and that which one yearns to do.

But do make sure you bring your e-reader or at least a massive suitcase full of paperback books the next time you hide out in a bank’s vault when thermonuclear war is brewing. Make sure you have an extra pair of glasses too.

Image by Stewf via Flickr

I was working with my publisher the other day on my novel’s cover (yay! start shameless plug–>> The P.U.R.E., releasing on or around 4/16/2012 <<–end shameless plug) and I needed to search through stock photography websites for a full body photo of a nicely built male wearing a suit.

A few months ago, I didn’t know these stock photography sites existed. I bought books but rarely did their covers influence my decision to buy or not buy. I think because my reading time was so precious, I’d usually done my homework on the book’s interior before I bought it.

The more I perused the stock photos, the more I recognized models from books I’d read. I also realized that many used the same models over and over again. At my local bookstore, I recently saw the same female model on two different authors’ books positioned side by side. I had at least two more books I already owned with the identical model. She was undeniably lovely with her part Asian, part Caucasian features, but were there no other beautiful models available to do historical covers?

The covers that do catch my attention, however, are the awful ones. No, I won’t single any out for the hall of shame; there are plenty of websites that already do a good job of that. I’ve even seen a couple of prolific authors publicly poke fun at their own, older covers.

What made them so bad? For starters, bad cut and paste jobs. If I can see the edges of the cut and they don’t match the body lines–fail. If I can tell a cowboy hat, medieval helmet or baseball cap has been digitally plopped atop the model’s head–fail. If the cover is too literal, such as a pair of handcuffs and a whip superimposed for a BDSM tale (I don’t read ’em, just sayin’) or tries too hard to be symbolic (an African American hand offering a vanilla ice cream cone to a Caucasian hand offering a chocolate one)–I groan.

When music videos first came out, critics skewered those that pantomimed or acted out the lyrics word for word vs. capturing the tone and mood of the song. Those critics were right and the same holds true for book covers. Literal is not always best.

Does this mean my book (second shameless plug) will or won’t have a well-built male wearing a suit on its cover and in the story? Maybe and yes. I provided suggestions to the publisher who may or may not use them, hence the maybe part. A well-built male is a key player in the story so no worries there.

Personally, I don’t always like to see covers that give away too many elements of the story. Teasing is best, in my humble opinion. The models don’t have to match exactly the physical descriptions within the pages. I purposely use a light touch when describing faces and body shapes. Readers have terrific imaginations and they are more than capable of conjuring images to match the actions and dialogue.

My opinions about settings and critters differ, however. Unless it’s a real world contemporary setting, I do like visual hints. Did that make sense? If the book is in a fantasy setting, I want a glimpse. If an animal or other-worldly creature plays a key role, I’d like a peek at it. Some of my favorite book covers contained depictions of haunting landscapes and beings. I’d refer to the cover throughout the reading experience. Those visuals plowed the field of my imagination, making it a fertile ground for the author’s seeds. Isn’t that what all covers should do?

What do you think? Should the characters and settings on the covers of books resemble the author’s descriptions? If so, how closely? Is the cover part of the reading experience or simply a marketing ploy?