Hunted Dreams Book Cover: Or, My Semiotic Analysis of My Literary Sonogram
Cover art for the fabulously spooky Hunted Dreams has arrived! It’s always a proud and exciting moment
for us authors, kinda like seeing a sonogram for the first time of one’s bio-bun baking
gently in the ol’ oven-womb! Well, except for less creepy verbiage. But ANYway,
it’s a harbinger of things to come and the first bit authors can make publicly
available about our prenatal literary babies.
Here, my beloveds, in all its glory, is the official cover
of Hunted Dreams.
Snazzy, right? As my editor pointed out, after rejecting
several prior drafts, this one is marketable and purty. Being a not-so-enthusiastic
supporter of the manipulative power of advertising, I admit I cringe at words
like “marketable,” but I have to face it: Elle Hill™ and her little works are
all commodities, baby. Step right up and buy a little piece of me.
Truly, I find this cover very visually compelling. I love
the colors, the ratio of light to dark, the fonts, the inclusion of the katana and hellfire as symbols of the main character’s awesome strength. Heck, I even giggle at
how largely and prominently my name looms on the cover, exactly as if I were a
bigwig author. Hee hee!
However, truth be known, the cover is also a letdown in a
few ways. First of all, I’m hopeful the woman on the front looks like she’s
sleeping and not dead; even so, the idea of using and sexifying* feminine helplessness
to sell books -- MY book! -- makes me seriously twitchy.
Additionally, I’m disappointed that, in spite of emphasizing
time and again that the shero is fat, I got a thin woman. The editor knows I’m
cranky about that, which is why she kept mentioning how much more marketable this cover is. Ya know, I
have to admit it kind of hurts to hear one’s body type, preferences, and artistic
ideals aren’t desirable symbols in the public sphere.
This might be one of those times when I love the marketplace
a teensy bit less.
On the same note of representational absence, my hero, a
biracial (half Black, half White) man is nowhere in sight. In my cover
instructions, I wrote something to the effect of “my hero is half Black/half
White, but if that won’t work, a Black man will be fine.” He’s so fine, he’s absent.
So in short, my baby looks nothing like what I thought it
would. I love the artistry, the colors and patterns of the cover. I love its sense of immediacy and drama. But alas, the
cover’s representation of humanity silently contradicts several of the themes
in this book about finding and embracing one’s genetic heritage and learning to
integrate one’s internal dualities.
I sorta-comfort myself with envisioning future readers who
find the cover sexy, read the book, and are shocked that the shero is a fat,
competent, tough, and compassionate woman who turns the damsel-in-distress
trope on its head. Oh, and that biracial love exists.
That’s my baby.
* This is absolutely a word. Or, well, maybe not, but it totally should be.
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