I always love the comments — both kind and snarky — at Jacket Whys. This latest post talked about the overwhelming brownness of one particular cover, and it struck me that that’s why I was having so much trouble picking up either of the two books on my bedside table: cover turn-off.
I’ve even read The Wife Tree before. And I know I liked it. But look at this depressing starkness:
How is that going to cheer my December?
And the other book waiting for me is De Niro’s Game, which my friend Carl lent to me, oh, approximately forever ago. Now I realize why I haven’t cracked the cover. Just look at it. It’s practically dripping blood. It’s reminding me of the time Min tricked me into seeing Blade by telling me it was a love story.
What I really need is a novel with a nice sunrise on the cover. Some spring flowers. A tropical beach. It’s time to write to Santa. Or, better yet, to Mrs. Claus.