I'm not sure what exactly has gone on behind the scenes, but a number of books long published, championed and supported by Peter Owen in their Modern Classics series seem to be slipping over, in paperback editions, to Penguin Modern Classics, with some very nice covers. However, Peter Owen seems to have retained the hardback rights, and are reprinting them as what they are calling Cased Classics. (See other examples of paperbacks at one publisher, hardbacks with another here and here.)
So here are the new/imminent Penguins...
..and here are the beautiful hardback Peter Owens, with diecut covers over fully illustrated boards (click for much bigger versions).
The moral of this story is that the much less attractive edition of The Ice Palace which I bought a couple of months ago, before I knew about any of these, was not a good investment.
(More Peter Owen coming soon: their beautiful and intriguing World Series books with Istros)
Showing posts with label One Book Multiple Covers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label One Book Multiple Covers. Show all posts
Thursday, 28 September 2017
Tuesday, 20 October 2015
Modiano in Monochrome
Now that a year has passed since Patrick Modiano won the Nobel Prize for Literature, there has been time enough for a number of his books to be resurrected in, or newly translated to, English. Given his previous neglect in this language, it's no surprise that the rights to his back catalogue were scattered across a number of different publishers.
What's interesting is the uniformity of cover design, despite these books being put out by very different firms. Basically, everyone seems to have decided that for Modiano, moody monochrome photos are the way to go.
From Bloomsbury UK:
From the Margellos World Republic of Letters series, and from Verba Mundi (both of whom were commendably publishing Modiano before the Nobel win):
From New York Review Books (forthcoming next year):
Even the publishers who did things a little differently still made use of monochrome illustrations (plus spots of reds, blues and purples) in a way that maintains the same atmosphere as the other covers above.
Text Publishing:
MacLehose Press:
And, perhaps the most distinct, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt:
What's interesting is the uniformity of cover design, despite these books being put out by very different firms. Basically, everyone seems to have decided that for Modiano, moody monochrome photos are the way to go.
From Bloomsbury UK:
From the Margellos World Republic of Letters series, and from Verba Mundi (both of whom were commendably publishing Modiano before the Nobel win):
From New York Review Books (forthcoming next year):
From Bloomsbury US:
Even the publishers who did things a little differently still made use of monochrome illustrations (plus spots of reds, blues and purples) in a way that maintains the same atmosphere as the other covers above.
Text Publishing:
MacLehose Press:
And, perhaps the most distinct, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt:
Wednesday, 27 February 2013
Infernal
Penguin seems to be going Dante crazy at the moment. Above is a new cover design for a new Penguin Classics UK edition of Inferno. They don't seem to have matching versions for Purgatorio and Paradiso, but then, as with Proust, most people don't make it past volume one, so perhaps they know their market. To be fair, Inferno is the most entertaining of the three: Dante is at his best consigning everyone who ever pissed him off to the flames, and less fun when he's just going on about Beatrice.
The above edition joins the recent hardback version, with a Coralie Bickford-Smith jacket:
Penguin Classics US, meanwhile, have just released a Graphic Classics edition of the full Divine Comedy, with cover artwork by Eric Drooker. I only know Drooker's work from his excellent wordless graphic novel, Flood. His other work includes a visual adaption of Ginsberg's Howl!, but as I pretty much loathe Ginsberg and his poetry, I haven't investigated that one.
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| Click to see it in all its glory |
To see some of Flood, visit Drooker's site here.
Of course, none of these have quite the same effect as this edition of Inferno from Del Rey. I can't think of anyone who will buy this book because of its cover or videogame association who won't be bitterly disappointed, and anyone who wants the book for its literary value is not going to go with this edition. It's a perfect example of a misconceived book.
Monday, 2 April 2012
Anatomy of a Disappearance
"She must know that your father married her because of you. He always punished himself, wishing he were a better father. He used to say he loved you so much he froze around you. At first he thought Mona might be good for you because he saw how fond you were of each other."
Trying to analyse why you pay attention to reviews and hype about some books and not others can be quite difficult. Somehow Hisham Matar's first novel, In the Country of Men, passed me by, as did the original hardback release of his second, Anatomy of a Disappearance. It doesn't help that I don't really pay attention to Booker and other such prizes the way I used to, when I was an earnest young man determined to Keep Up with what was happening in the world of books. But I did myself a disservice, as having finally read Anatomy of a Disappearance, I can say that it's an excellent book, and one I pretty much devoured in one hit.
It's a novel about an unconventional love triangle, between 12-year-old Nuri el-Alfi, his widower father (a former Egyptian politician), and his father's new wife, half-English, half-Arab Mona. Most importantly, it's about what happens when the father is violently removed from the picture. Even as the two survivors start to turn against each other, Mona is the centre of Nuri's existence. The time he spends apart from her flies by, sometimes whole years passing in a line or two, while the time spent with her is described almost gesture by gesture. And the book is very good indeed on the demands adults make on children who are too weak to give what's needed, or even to understand it, which can look like cruelty--and sometimes is.
Anatomy of a Disappearance is also unusual in that its concerns are entirely emotional, physical and political: it's rare for a book by a writer with an Arabic background to succeed in the English-speaking publishing world these days unless they overtly grapple with Islam, whereas Anatomy barely considers faith of any kind at all. This has the excellent side effect that the designers of the various covers are free to concentrate on what's really important about the book, rather than resorting to the cliches of covered female faces that seem to feature on every second book with a Middle Eastern (the rest of the covers usually make use of either guns or oil). The physical reality of Mona is what the different cover designs focus on instead...
Trying to analyse why you pay attention to reviews and hype about some books and not others can be quite difficult. Somehow Hisham Matar's first novel, In the Country of Men, passed me by, as did the original hardback release of his second, Anatomy of a Disappearance. It doesn't help that I don't really pay attention to Booker and other such prizes the way I used to, when I was an earnest young man determined to Keep Up with what was happening in the world of books. But I did myself a disservice, as having finally read Anatomy of a Disappearance, I can say that it's an excellent book, and one I pretty much devoured in one hit.
It's a novel about an unconventional love triangle, between 12-year-old Nuri el-Alfi, his widower father (a former Egyptian politician), and his father's new wife, half-English, half-Arab Mona. Most importantly, it's about what happens when the father is violently removed from the picture. Even as the two survivors start to turn against each other, Mona is the centre of Nuri's existence. The time he spends apart from her flies by, sometimes whole years passing in a line or two, while the time spent with her is described almost gesture by gesture. And the book is very good indeed on the demands adults make on children who are too weak to give what's needed, or even to understand it, which can look like cruelty--and sometimes is.
Anatomy of a Disappearance is also unusual in that its concerns are entirely emotional, physical and political: it's rare for a book by a writer with an Arabic background to succeed in the English-speaking publishing world these days unless they overtly grapple with Islam, whereas Anatomy barely considers faith of any kind at all. This has the excellent side effect that the designers of the various covers are free to concentrate on what's really important about the book, rather than resorting to the cliches of covered female faces that seem to feature on every second book with a Middle Eastern (the rest of the covers usually make use of either guns or oil). The physical reality of Mona is what the different cover designs focus on instead...
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| Commonwealth hardback (Viking/Penguin), photo by Stephen Simpson |
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| Commonwealth paperback (Penguin) |
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| US edition from Dial Press |
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
Chatterley Bonanza
D. H. Lawrence and his Lady Chatterley's Lover has cropped up quite a bit round here recently. I thought it might be entertaining to look at some of the current and past covers for this famous book (often famous for the wrong reasons). The two opening images here are lithograhs (by a Peter Schem?) from a 1956 French edition.
Let's start with the mind-addling variety of editions currently in print from Penguin...
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| The 50th anniversary edition from last year |
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| The standard Penguin Classics edition, with art by Aaron Robinson (see here) |
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| The current Penguin Essentials edition with art by Lucy McLauchlan (see here) |
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| The Penguin Graphic Classics edition, with art from Chester Brown (click for much bigger version) |
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| The Penguin Hardback Classics edition, designed by Coralie Bickford-Smith (interviewed here) |
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| The Popular Penguins edition |
Six different versions of one book in print from the one publisher? Not weird at all.
Then there are Penguin's various past editions, some of which are...
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| Popular Classics edition, 1990s |
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| Various Penguin 20th Century Classics editions, late 1980s to mid-1990s |
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| Penguin US, 1948 |
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| Film tie-in |
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| Penguin, 1960 |
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| Penguin, 1978, photo by fashion/erotica photographer Harri Peccinotti (thanks, Gould!) |
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| Penguin, 1980 |
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| Penguin Designer Classic by Paul Smith, 2006 |
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| Essential Penguin, 1990s |
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| Penguin Modern Classic, early 2000s |
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| Penguin US, 1946 |
Then there's the new edition from Vintage Classics, with a photo by Carla van de Puttelaar (see here for more)...
Some of you may remember a couple of awful ebook covers for other Lawrence novels. You'll be thrilled to know that the same company now has a Lady Chatterley edition to match, with Lady C and Mellors rather unexpectedly getting it on in an empty theatre.
This is not the only shitty ebook version out there. For example...
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| Mellors's smooth moods were her only distraction from the rising damp from Alpha Centauri |
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| Wiped, but left toilet paper between buttocks |
But let's get back to physical books from the past, both in English and not...
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| Ace, 1958: the erotic possibilities of a well-trimmed lawn |
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| Tor, Argentina, 1939 |
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| Avon, 1950: big, big hair |
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| Avon, 1956 (with bonus Lawrence): smaller hair makes for a useful hand-rest |
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| Berkley, 1958: lipstick |
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| Colombian edition, 1981: remember the era when every photo had this sort of soft-focus effect? Wasn't it awful? |
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| Gallimard edition, French, 1963 |
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| French edition, 1985 |
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| Gallimard edition, French, 1960s: more scary hair |
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| French edition, 1969 |
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| French edition, 1972: The Joy of Sex and Strategically Placed Vegetation |
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| German edition, 1973 |
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| US edition, Grove, 1982 |
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| Civilização Brasileira edition, Brazil, designed by the amazing Eugênio Hirsch |
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| Signet, 1950 |
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| Signet, 1957 |
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| Signet, 1959 |
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| Signet, 1959 |
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| Signet 1962: now it's a classic, we can show breasts |
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| Signet, 2000s |
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| Travellers Pocket Edition, Canada, 1949: the subtle version |
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| Travellers Pocket Edition, Canada, 1949: the saucy version |
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| Polish edition, 1991: hair big enough to contain a house |
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| Spanish edition, 1978 |
And finally, a little further afield, the Hunt Emerson comic adaption...
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