Yes I Do Judge a Book By Its Cover

I have a confession to make: I always judge a book by its cover. Literally.

I recently got done reading the 2 book of a trilogy that I am absolutely overtaken by. I was completely uncomfortable, concerned, and physically itchy with angst after finishing the 1st book. And that angst just continued through the second book. It seriously took over my thoughts for 3 days after turning the last page - both times. A book that takes me wholeheartedly out of this real world and transports me to its own world, making me actually feel, think, love, fear, question, obsess, act, breathe just like the main character is a good book. A very good book, in fact.

And, I'm happy to report, I also like the covers of these books.

Had I not, I might've been hesitant to read them.

I'm certain I still would've loved the books, but when I wasn't reading them, I probably would've turned them upside down, covered them, hidden them behind other things. And they wouldn't be in such a viewable spot in our bookcase - in fact, they probably wouldn't have made the public bookshelf at all.

I read a book the other day that I liked well enough. But I was NOT a fan of its cover. It felt like a cheap young adult book, from a cheap place, with a cheap designer working there. I kept thinking of some of the ugly paperbacks we have from the 80's and 90's, that used hideous colors, and just plain looked dumb. And that kept nagging at me, everytime I put the book down. I feared the random visitor who would come upon me reading such a cringe-inducing thing. But the book was good, so I shouldn't judge a book so harshly.

My very sweet and thoughtful neighbor came over with a book she wanted me to read. It's sitting on my desk in my room, covered by some necklaces and a few random pieces of paper. I have no idea whether its a good book or not. But I don't think about it positively quite yet.

This poor book also has the unfortunate quality of being sized similar to pocketbook, but with countless pages filled by innumerable words, squeezed closely together to fit as many as possible on one page. Apparently the publisher ran out of trees in his attempt to publish this book, so he had to shrink and scrunch the words to keep the book under 1,000 pages.

I've also got a total bias against paperback books for the sole reason that paperbacks get so ratty so quickly. I'm all for books showing the love they've received from readers - underlining of great lines, dog-ears on pages left off at, notes and thoughts written in the margins - but I prefer to keep that love on the inside. I don't want the cover falling off randomly or getting bent in all directions. UGLY.

Plus, hardback books just look more quality. So I automatically think the words inside them are likely more quality as well. Trust me, I've learned my lesson from that poor assumption before. But it doesn't stop me from judging each book I pick up. I still float toward hardback books, figuring they will at least look nicer on my "purely for aesthetics and a snooty desire to look bookish" bookshelves. I just want to present myself as the right type of nerd, you know?

If I may get all psycho-logical here, I'd have to say the root of my problem lies in my mother. The woman who, when we moved to this new house (complete with a library to entertain the random short-visit guest), went through my dad's oodles of books, picked all the good-looking and interesting-sounding books and organized them nicely upstairs, while she banned the rest to live out their days in my dad's basement office. With the door closed. She taught me early on that pretty book sets and pleasing covers are an integral part of any decorating scheme. And ugly books, no matter how good they are, get the cupboards and nightstand drawers to live out the rest of their days.

No wonder I'm so picky when it comes to dating.