I often pick up a book because I like it’s cover. Okay, very often. I am a designer, it’s what I do. I like to mull over why they put that there, used that font/image/whatever. I like to think about what made me pick up this one and skip over that other one. Then I might even read the book.
I picked up one of my all-time favourite books EVER because of its cover. A Gracious Plenty, found in the bargain bin out the front of the bookstore. Not just any bin. It was on the trolley of books they can’t even see from the sales counter, indicating they think they don’t even care if you steal it. TWO DOLLARS. I still can’t believe. it. The wording of the title is beautiful, plus with my gravestone fascination, I was sold. After reading this book I read all the other books Sheri Reynolds wrote. I liked them, they were a little weird and I laughed so much at some of them. I didn’t love them as much as this one though.
Of course cover shopping doesn’t always work. For example, take The old age of El Magnifico. Please, take it. I picked it up a dozen times and when they finally stuck the 50% off sticker on it I snapped it up. If I had once, during all those times of looking at it longingly, read any of it, I could have saved myself the cash. Turns out the old cat had cancer in its leg so they lopped it off. A front leg and his shoulder. He was FOURTEEN YEARS OLD. I just thought that was mean. The cat kept forgetting its leg was gone and trying to leap things and run down the stairs. A You Tube maybe, a whole book? No.
Here are a few of my other favourites. No, not all found in the bin.
Oh yeah, my bargain bin shopping sometimes ends in complete disaster. Once I got about two chapters in and just went “Life’s too short”. I cut the cover off and threw the book away. Sacrilege? Maybe. It was a horrible book hidden behind a pretty cool cover. I would show it to you RIGHT NOW but, um … can’t find it. Might have to write a post on “Organisational skills and how to get them”.
I picked this one up five or six times before actually deciding to buy it. I spent a very long time trying to work out just how abnormally long this woman’s legs were. She was gorgeous. Her story is sad. Illness, philandering husband she couldn’t get out of her system, murder. And what makes it worse—it’s a true story.
In my digging around in the cupboard looking for my favourites I found these. I have kept them from when I was a little kid. Just goes to show throwing EVERYTHING away to be über clean and tidy is denying yourself the simple pleasure of revisiting something you loved as a kid. This afternoon I shall kick back and read The Hobbit-pages-25-to-28-missing. I read it so much as a kid they fell out. Doesn’t matter, I know it by heart. Happy book-loving people! : )