Judging a man by his book’s cover

Weather permitting, I usually spend my lunch break on the steps of a fountain near my office, double-fisting a sandwich and a book. Last week, I ran into the parents of a girl I dated in high school. They work nearby. It’s happened before. I stood up, we made friendly conversation, and then they went on their way. All fine, except for the moment that I noticed her glancing downward at the paperback I’d just set aside. Here’s what she saw:

“So, yeah, that’s pretty much what I’ve been up to these days. Mostly just working and reading medical fetish porn. How’s your daughter doing?”

To be fair, there is indeed a naked lady in this book, and some surgery, and a fair amount of S&M-iness, but it’s not half as tacky as the cover would have you believe. Tessier is one of the smartest, most literary (for lack of a better word) writers in the genre. He’s not uninterested in the whole sex/violence connection, but to judge this book by its cover, you’d think he handled it with all the intelligence and depth of a late night Cinemax thriller—The Call Girl Murders, or something.*

It’s not the first time this has been an issue for me. There are plenty of mass-market paperbacks by great authors that I’ve practically turned inside-out while reading on public transportation in an effort to screen the cover art from my fellow passengers. Here are a few gems of design (although these lose more points for silliness than sleaze):

The common element here, other than that they are all of the genre, is that they are all published by Dorchester Books’ horror imprint, Leisure.

Just so we’re clear, I consider Leisure Horror to sit firmly on the side of Good. Horror fiction has been out of vogue since the 80s, relegated primarily to the realm of indie presses, but they’ve kept their sizeable corner in the mainstream. They’re champions of midlist masters. As far as I know, the debt of gratitude for bringing Richard Laymon’s books home to the States is owed solely to them, and that’s fucking huge. When I say this, I do so with the highest regard for their editorial and publishing record: Leisure Horror makes some ugly emmereffing books.

I don’t blame them, either. Covers are a marketing decision, and I don’t doubt for a second that their marketing department knows what it’s doing. These books look the way they do because it’s what sells. I can only assume that the typical reader of Finishing Touches didn’t seek it out after Cemetery Dance ran an interview with the author in the last issue. The typical reader, looking for something light and fun, spotted it on a spinning rack at an airport gift shop and thought, “Naked lady? Scalpel? Photoshopsplosion? Sold!” Which, now that I think about it, means that my beef is with him.

What the hell’s the matter with you, typical reader? Don’t you realize how stupid that book looks? Don’t you realize that there’s going to be someone, probably a stranger, sitting next to you on that plane? Don’t you worry about what they’re going to think?

Clearly, I do. 

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*Is this a dated reference? Does Cinemax even exist anymore? Do they still show movies like this? It’s been forever since my tv channels went that high.