We Have Always Judged Books By Their Covers

Wednesday is about books, and writing. Today, I weigh in on the Ockham book cover scandal

Not a week goes by where I am not in a bookstore. I visit my regular haunt a couple of times a week I would say. On holiday, I seek out stores. I browse. I buy. I get mistaken as staff — this has happened quite a few times by the way. I have worked in bookstores, and would of course love to do it again. And I treat my home a little bit like a bookstore, ‘re-merchandising’, shifting whole sequences of books to new spots, dusting shelves and changing the ‘look’, etc…

So last week on a routine pop-in to the bookstore I frequent most often I spotted these two horrific book covers. I was drawn to them. Because they were fucking ugly. And they looked not only ridiculous but the whiff of AI was all over them. That piss-yellow hue, and you could almost hear the lazy prompts being typed in “Angel and a train please, book is called Angel Train”. And “Cat with teeth, almost grinning, eh”.

I was drawn to these books, still, because I like both authors — have read them before, recognise they are or have been ‘good’, (haven’t read the latest material) and also I’m very much interested in short stories and novellas right now, having dedicated my year in study to writing in both of those formats. I have a whole bookcase dedicated to short stories, key ones. And I am still adding to it.

It wasn’t quite that I could not read these books because of their covers, could not own them. I kinda love a shit cover from time to time, we all know ‘so bad it’s good’, and the beauty of that is we all have a different version of it, different criteria. But I would be lying if I said these hideous covers did not have an impact in me putting the books down. Leaving them in their piles.

A few days on, pretty much a whole week passes, and I read this:

FairPlay I say.

But also, let’s be clear, the publishing industry, the arts industry, the creative writing industry needs to distance itself from AI in order to, well, maintain a distance; it’s a necessary move.

Regular readers of my newsletter will know I used AI a bunch for images; usually pretty intentionally silly ones too, all but sending up the form. But, also, I’m a one-man-band up here, and I am neither designer nor illustrator, and though I can take my own photos I could not legally call myself a photographer, that would be a cruel disservice to the people that know what they are doing. So that was my justification. But I’ve throttled right back on that, all but doing away, favouring my own images or using images that are available and giving photo credits when needed.

I’ve definitely changed up because of environmental impacts and concerns, because of some ethical ‘vibe’, but also because you get sick of things, and any perverse humour I saw in almost intentionally cheap/lazy and ugly AI imagery is gone. I will only use it now to imagine something I want to imagine, for a story, and when I cannot find an image that will do that imagining for me.

This is completely different, by the way, to using it as a book cover.

I have three books that are, or were once, on the market. The first of which actually won a book award — for cover design. That is a specific award that is looking at the cover and judging that rather than the book, and I couldn’t have been more stoked for the designer, who did an amazing job:

On Song was also highly commended in the PANZ book design awards for its typography.

And you can read there, in the Judges’ comments, they are looking at the design of the book — as they should, but it does link in some way to the content. It has to. The design of the book is there to serve the content.

I only met the book’s designer, Alan Deere, a few years on — at a gig. We were in the audience, all but rubbing shoulders, and he turned and said “hey, are you Simon Sweetman? I designed the cover to your book!” And we chatted, and it was mutual admiration society of course, I said how much I loved what he did. He told me he loved the book, and my writing. And I’m pretty sure we both meant it. I certainly loved his work on my book, and couldn’t believe my luck — the finished product was better than I might ever have believed.

This was with a major publisher too, so I didn’t really have a huge amount of say in that area, it was a commissioned book, my job was to deliver the text. I did it. And I got to say yes to finished designs after everyone else. I would have raised concerns if I had any, put it that way.

I’ve worked with a smaller, indie publisher on my two other books (poetry). I’ve not only had say in the covers — I’ve sourced them. They have very much been my concept.

My dear friend, the person I’ve known the longest in this world outside of my brother and parents, the artist Matthew Couper, painted the cover to The Death of Music Journalism, based on conversations and collaboration; we decided between us the look and feel of the image — and its content. Matt then set about delivering this amazing image. It is all his work. A lockdown project for all involved, including the cover’s designer, Sarah Bolland.

I am biased, but I reckon that deserved a design award, a cover image award too. I certainly think it served the material inside, and if anything was a reason for people to buy the book; cheapest way you can get a Matthew Couper artwork!

For The Richard Poems I went to photographer Peter Black. I couldn’t believe my luck — he said yes. He gave me permission to use the image I wanted for the front of the book, and Tara Malone, then working at the Cuba Press, designed this amazing cover:

I think this should have won an Award for its image too — it’s a book about the damage one person inflicts on another, with a literal car crash to back up the metaphorical, and you can’t quite see the damage of the second car locked behind in this image.

With both of my books of poetry, I had the support of Phantom Billstickers with cover images on posters around town. And poster poems around the country. All of this, the artists I used, the support from Phantom, the relative freedom to insist on ideas with my publisher, is entirely down to personal relationships and connections that I have worked on across many years. Because this is what you do. But also, the belief from the publisher and the support from Phantom arrived on the back of the actual images being great! These are book-selling covers. These are covers that assist! (That maybe insist?) And if the books are to be judged by these covers, as all books are in at least some way, then I was doing okay.

I mention all of this because it is so deluded and utterly disingenuous for writers the calibre of Stephanie Johnson and Elizabeth Smither to think that books aren’t judged by their covers, to suggest they had nothing to do with their covers, and for their (shared) publisher Quentin Wilson to not know that AI slop is not doing enough; is not going to be enough.

Wilson outsourced the work to a designer, the designer has made sure to say that Wilson was in on the AI brief.

And in the tiny NZ publishing industry this was the biggest (real) story of the week. Not a manufactured controversy. An actual story. But it is fair for the Ockham Book Awards to make the call that these AI slop covers have stopped the books’ chances of winning awards. A book is not just the words, not just the pages, it is the finished and full product. Covers are a huge part of the product. From colour to image to overall design.

There’s two sets of effrontery here in argument with each other — the idea that this is an admin bungle, a rule change penalising the already notable and award-winning writers who were just doing their writing so suddenly an award that’s always been for a book should just be for correct typing. And then the authors’ smugness that they handed in the words and their job was done. Writing a book is writing. Making a book is everything else that goes into it. I’ve written books’ worth of material here on Substack and in other places online. Libraries, even. But they are not books. They are just words. Words in books are housed by design and colour and comfort, and security, and not just housed, all of these elements help sell the concept, and make the art of it all ‘pop’. And all of these added components that wrap around the words are sourced by professionals, all gathered and huddling for warmth in a dying industry. Lazy AI prompts, and disingenuous arguments around this not actually impacting the story aren’t making it easier for dying arts, they are hammering nails in the coffin.