These are the actual covers for the two versions of the book.
What do you think? Which do you prefer?
The yellow one is a normal paperback size and in black and white.
The blue one is a large coffee table book in full colour.
They both look good to me.
I prefer the black/white, the larger one seems quite dark, it might have needed something brighter than the blue going across. Just my opinion for what it’s worth.
Hi Anna – thanks for that.
Hi Anna – perhaps you need cheering up today – here’s a joke I just wrote –
Duck walks into the private doctor’s surgery. But he could not speak.
So the doctor gave him the bill.
That’s very good, and yes you put a smile on my face and cheered me up, thanks for that.
Well that’s good.
Agree with Anna, the figure in the foreground suggests ‘perspective’ and the pic is more inviting.
Yep. I think you’re right. That was my first choice. But I think the other one might look better bigger. It has a grainy, low-light impressionism when large that I love. That’s why I chose it for the bigger book. Because it is big and has colour photos it is expensive so I figured I was the only person in the world who would buy that one. The smaller one, in black and white, is cheaper. There might be a few who’d chance their arm on that.
Yes, the other would be too garish if big. The mountain picture reminds me of Wordsworth’s ‘Prelude’ description. Please forgive the length:
I dipped my oars into the silent lake,
And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat
Went heaving through the Water like a swan;
When, from behind that craggy Steep till then
The horizon’s bound, a huge peak, black and huge,
As if with voluntary power instinct,
Upreared its head.—I struck and struck again,
And growing still in stature the grim Shape
Towered up between me and the stars, and still,
For so it seemed, with purpose of its own
And measured motion like a living Thing,
Strode after me. With trembling oars I turned,
And through the silent water stole my way
Back to the Covert of the Willow-tree;
There in her mooring-place I left my Bark,—
And through the meadows homeward went, in grave
And serious mood; but after I had seen
That spectacle, for many days, my brain
Worked with a dim and undetermined sense
Of unknown modes of being; o’er my thoughts
There hung a darkness, call it solitude
Or blank desertion. No familiar Shapes
Remained, no pleasant images of trees,
Of sea or Sky, no colours of green fields;
But huge and mighty Forms, that do not live
Like living men, moved slowly through the mind
By day, and were a trouble to my dreams.
I can see why. It could be a grim shape towering up and blocking the stars. Great observation!