About Writing

Book Covers


My husband found The Regiment (published 1987) in a used bookstore back in 2010, and a few days later handed it over to me with the instruction that I *had* to read it. The Regiment is a scifi novel that is deeply philosophical, with a subtle element of spirituality woven in, and it influenced the way I think of every day life. It’s definitely one of my favorites.

It was never unpacked after our last move, and now currently resides in a box in the basement, so it’s been awhile since I’ve read it. One of these days I’ll get around to unpacking those boxes, but that day is not today.

The thing is, my husband and I got a very good laugh about the cover, and we still occasionally reference how bad it is. The picture is only vaguely related to the novel at best, and the tagline is so badly wrong that I suspect whoever wrote it hadn’t even read a summary. Excellent book, terrible cover.


I purchased Wicked Lovely when it was a new release in 2008, back when I was young and trusting. I consider it to be a guilty pleasure, since while I adore the idea of faerie courts in the book, I think that it is put together in a way that is shallow and a touch crude.

Mind you, I’d still rate the book 3.5/5, and I even followed the author’s blog for awhile clear back then, so I mean it when I describe this as a guilty pleasure. I read the sequel, Ink Exchange, and every now and then ponder whether or not I should get more books by Melissa Marr, just to see how her writing has been coming along. Unfortunately, the premise of the novels never unfolded in a satisfying fashion, so I continue to hold back. There’s just too much of a modern twist in her writing.

Wanna guess why I bought this book back then?

The cover.

It was pretty.

The contents therein did not match expectations. If the cover had actually reflected the story, I wouldn’t have spent my hard-earned pennies on it, because I’m not a modern sort of person by any stretch of the imagination. Now that it’s 11 years later, I might cut the cover off, frame it, and hang it on the wall where I can look at it, but I’m not all that inclined toward reading the novel again. It’s probably a good thing that this book is also squirreled away in the basement.

I might, at some point in the future, write my own version of faerie courts to tell the story that I had wanted to read back then, though my cover won’t be anywhere near as pretty if I do. I’ll have to rely on the strength of words alone to generate appeal, and we all know how well that will work, le sigh.

At least I’ll have the satisfaction of a good story.

I don’t judge books by their covers anymore; beauty is only skin deep.


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