Some Guy on the Internet Talks

Random ramblings of a dude about things he is interested in.

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Some Guy: Book Covers

Common wisdom is to ‘never judge a book by its cover’, and while that certainly works for people, in actual terms of reading selection, it’s useless. Aside from bestseller lists, recommendations and prior knowledge, a cover is what’s going to tell a potential buyer what a book is like, and, more specifically, why it’s worth reading. While cover designs tend to work in conveying the specifics of a book’s tone, they can also be used to tell a book’s genre, as with the trend of science fiction books having covers art done in acrylic paint.

For an example of a good cover, the mass market paperback edition of Terry Pratchett’s Making Money does well with using allusion to  convey the broad strokes of the book’s premise. The cover’s illustration is of money being taken out of a top hot, bringing to mind the traditional bunny-in-the-hat trick and other acts of deception. Which is perfect for a book that’s about a former con having his deception skills being put to use in running a bank.

As Discworld books go, they’re fairly good for studying cover design, as there are often multiple covers that can be compared and contrasted to see what works. However, in comparing Discworld covers, the collector’s library edition covers will not be included, as they’re made with a different purpose. The library is made for those who are already fans of Discworld, and presumably, fans of whatever collector’s library edition books they’re about to buy. Thus the covers can afford to have a greatly de-emphasized title and have illustrations with spoilers, not to mention extremely short back cover summaries.

Regardless, a good example of differing cover qualities is in Thud!. The mass market paperback, done in the same style as Making Money’s, only shows someone, presumably Vimes, about to be hit on the head with a wooden club. While the cover certainly mysterious, it goes too far and becomes incredibly unclear as to what the book is about—in this case, murder, and long-set animosity between two species with some demonic influence here and there. If someone was not already familiar with the Discworld and the Watch series in particular, they would be unable to discern that Vimes is on the cover, much less that his presence indicates a mystery novel with sharp political and social commentary.

Comparatively, Paul Kidby’s version of the cover is much better in this regard, with Vime’s likeliness as a watchman being much more visible, and it being clear that the book deals with figuring out a murder (at least, in the beginning). The illustration’s reference to the game of Thud itself also helps with the intrigue and mystery of the cover: there’s been a murder, but why is the victim and everyone except Vimes gamepieces?--ought to check the back cover for more information.

Another big part of Discworld book covers is the focus on Pratchett’s name. With over eighty million books sold and being an extremely popular and influential writer, just the name ‘Terry Pratchett’ on the cover is bound to turn some heads. In a language that reads from top to bottom, putting Pratchett’s name at the top means that it’ll likely be read first, even before the title. Not to mention that Pratchett’s name is larger than the title on the Kidby cover of Thud. Contrast to books1 written by smaller or newer writers, which often have the author’s name at the bottom, and in much smaller print.

Another good example of an author’s name playing a big role in the cover to garner interest is Unnatural Creatures, a book, well… not by Neil Gaiman, but at least, edited by him. The book is an anthology, which at least explains having an editor’s name on the cover, but it’s the fact that it’s Neil Gaiman that the name is featured so prominently, despite him not having written the book. The anthology may be great, but having Gaiman’s name on the cover will at least capture many people’s attention so they’ll at least take a closer look. Compare this to another (fairly successful anthology) like This Is How You Die, where the editors are placed in the bottom right corner in small text, while the attention-catching title and cover art do the work.

As cover art is meant to convey the premise or tone of the book, certain leeway must be given in the cases of slight inaccuracy. Though it’s textually stated that Crowley doesn’t have horns, wings2, or a tail, he is still depicted with one, so anyone looking at the book knows he’s a demon, and the absurdity of a demon in a suit holding wine and an angel with trainers reading a book can sink in. The title itself also works to this effect, referencing the arrowed tail and halo to convey the concept of angels and demons even as the items themselves are absent.

1. I’m rather loathed to actually include books here, because I’d rather not have this be used as some sort of mark against smaller authors.

2. Well. Not until the end, at least. And even then, feathery ones.

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Some Guy: Calvin and Hobbes

For this post, I was joined by my friend L.S. as we discussed the strip for a bit.

Some Guy: To start, there’s Calvin and Hobbes’ rather recognizable use of colour. Watterson mentioned that he would spend significant time holding up the newsprint colours to his illustrations to figure out how to coordinate them into a cohesive image.

L.S: There’s also a recognizable use of blank paper in Calvin and Hobbes, especially for scenes involving snow. It gave those scenes sort of a minimalist quality, which went well with all the philosophical conversations that went on walking through the snow or on the toboggan. The color is more evident in the crazier stories involving aliens, or Spaceman Spiff, or time travel.

SG: Absolutely. Watterson also often had any strips involving philosophical conversations occur while Calvin and Hobbes were moving, such as in the toboggan or the wagon, and the scenes there often reflected the subject of their conversation. Regardless, it’s all very inspirational for my own work, and very skillful as a use of comics as an art medium, combining the text and image together well.

L.S: The strips I admire most are the wordless ones though. The ones that can completely tell a story through exaggerated expressions and use of space. I have two in mind as I say this: one is a strip about aliens who capture Calvin, make a robot version to send back to earth that makes messes and fights with his parents, and then his parents blaming it all on him. The other is my personal favorite strip: one where Calvin starts pointing at objects around the house to transform them into weirder versions, his parents get annoyed and send him upstairs, and then with a heavy sigh he points out his window and turns the whole world into this beautiful desert-sunset scene. That one always resonated with me because he made his best and most beautiful work right after he was chastised for it- by people who could never see what he made.

[ID: Calvin is his living room with his father. He says “kazam” and his father becomes some sort of alien slug. He proceeds to do this more, with his father becoming increasingly irritated as the room becomes more and more odd. He is eventually sent to his room, before saying “kazam” one last time, turning the view outside his house into an alien landscape.]

SG: I see it as a testament to the strip that that I recognized both of those before you finished describing them. You have a point: the form comic is more than just a blend of words and pictures--it’s also sequenced images. One of the (mostly) wordless comics that comes to my mind is the one where Calvin and Hobbes’ summer day is expressed through nineteen panels, with the two remarking at the end at how little they got to do. It was done in the expanded format without the typical newspaper limits, and Watterson remarked that it would have been impossible with said limits. The strip with him transforming the world into weirder things definitely does resonate with me, though I also see a sense of minor melancholy with it. Though, I must also note that the strip isn’t wordless-- there’s still bits of Calvin making a sound-effect as he transforms the world, and his parents also speak their displeasure, but the comic is driven by the visuals.

[ID: Calvin and Hobbes doing various activities, such as swimming in a blow-up pool, playing Calvin ball, selling a suicide drink, star-gazing and catching fireflies over the course of a day, before Calvin’s mother takes both inside. The two remark in bed that they didn’t get to do half their itinerary on that single day.]

L.S: That’s more what I meant- visual-driven, not wordless. I definitely feel the melancholy of that strip. I admire Watterson for his courage to make some strips sad and deep, when the newspapers were more after quick laughs as a way to keep the consumer hooked. He took a space that wasn’t supposed to contain ‘high art’, whatever that means, and used it for something no one expected to respect.

SG: Oh, certainly. There’s definitely been incredibly deep moments of Calvin and Hobbes, and it’d be too long to list them all here. I’m sure that fans of the strip can easily bring to mind at least one. That’s part of why it’s stuck in the popular consciousness like it has. Watterson saw the art in comics, which is one of the forces behind his push for the expanding format for his strip. The man even made a strip on the divide between ‘high art’ and ‘low art’, using comics as the representative for ‘low art’ in it. However, I also believe Watterson didn’t flat-out ignore comics being used for things less than ‘high art’ means, at least in the sphere of newspaper strips. He once compared it to a trinkets shop: sometimes kitschy, sometimes deeply resonant.

[ID: Calvin and Hobbes examining various pieces of art.

Calvin: A painting. Moving. Spiritually enriching. Sublime. ...”High” art!

Calvin: The comic strip. Vapid. Juvenile. Commercial hack work. ...”Low” art.

Calvin: A painting of a comic strip. Sophisticated irony. Philosophically challenging. ...”High” art.

Hobbes: Suppose I draw a cartoon of a painting of a comic strip?

Calvin: Sophomoric. Intellectually sterile. ...”Low” art.]

L.S: Moral of the story: no medium or platform is exclusive to a given level of use.

SG: Right.

[someguyontheinternettalks]

Some Guy: Monument Valley

Monument Valley is a series of puzzle games for mobile devices, and if you haven’t heard of them, then I’m rather shocked. The general concept of the two games in the series is that the player must navigate the protagonist of the game from point A to point B by manipulating an environment of M.C. Escher-esque impossible architecture. Aside from that, another easily evident feature of the game is its beautiful aesthetics—simple graphics combining with elegant colours to make a recognizable art style. The game’s developers are readily aware of this, too, as both games have a built-in screen capture function. It’s a very good example that having good graphics is not the same as actually looking good. The vibrant, non-realistic colours help the sense of play in the surreality of the logic behind the mechanics.

Progression in Monument Valley don’t seem so much like puzzles as exploring the games’ world, as getting to where I wanted to go was mostly just a couple of maneuvers away. Only a few of the chapters in Monument Valley ever gave me serious trouble, and a few involved me just missing an obvious solution. However, this is hardly a criticism-- mobile devices are most conducive to games where progress can be achieved in-between other tasks, such as traveling on public transport. In this respect, Monument Valley is very good--the levels take only a couple of minutes or so to complete, and they were never frustrating. I also doubt that the developers of the game wanted to make long, complicated levels, regardless of the game’s platform. The game is focused on making the world seem alive (not to mention the story), and the gameplay being focused around exploring the function of each monument without it feeling like it’s overstayed its welcome plays into that.

However, sometimes the series seems a little focused on novelty and spectacle, especially within the context of content beside the core ten chapters in the first game. There some features, such as twistable monuments (allowing the player to change what faces of a surface they walked on) introduced in the Forgotten Shores expansion that are more or less forgotten in the sequel in favor of adding new mechanics.

[ID: A twisted rectangular prism with the player character on one side.]

Alongside that, there’s also the story of the two games. Monument Valley I follows Ida, a princess who has returned to restore the monuments as atonement for… stealing the sacred geometry that is integral to them, apparently. The story is mainly conveyed through the bits of mysterious dialogue spoken by the spirits of Valley’s architects that Ida occasionally meets when moving between doorways. Monument Valley II follows descendants of the Valley people, Ro and her daughter. The two also seem to restore the monuments in some sort of fashion with beams of light, but the real focus of their story is the coming-of-age ritual the child undergoes and how it affects both her and her mother. In going with that, Monument Valley II also builds on the previous game by having two controllable characters for more complex puzzles.

The mechanics of that are also used to help reinforce the story, as at the beginning of the game, the child follows as the player singularly controls Ro and the puzzles revolve around how to navigate Ro in a way that will get the child to move to whatever will progress the game. This happens for a while until there’s a level in which Ro more or less takes a back seat (the game keeping her in carefully sectioned off areas of the monument for most of the chapter) while the child traverses the game world. This all has the player become accustomed to the two characters, and given an expectation that the game will next transition into controlling the two characters together. The next level starts out simple: Ro and the child are in some sort of city-scape, walking down a long stretch of linear path going down some stairs, and as the screen scrolls down, it’s revealed that the stairs lead to another stretch of path down to a boat. You lead the two to the boat, the child hugs her mother good-bye, sets sail, and the chapter ends. This is very strong in using the mechanics to allow the player to feel Ro’s situation-- bonding with and becoming used to the child’s presence, and then having to deal with the absence. This is reinforced by the player playing through levels wherein Ro journeys and reminisces on the past while waiting for her daughter, before ‘the rest of the story’ is filled in, and they can play as the child going on her quest. In the final level, the two are reunited and the player then controls them together to finish the child’s induction into becoming an adult. Generally, I’d say that Monument Valley II is stronger in that it has more complex levels and that the story and mechanics are more tightly interwoven; make no mistake that both are very excellent. If you haven’t heard of Monument Valley, or if you had but haven’t played it yet, or if you have but you haven’t played it in a while, or some other scenario, the series is a lovely and is a great experience for a some (relatively) small money.

[someguyontheinternettalks]

Given the tenuous nature of Tumblr currently, I’ve made Some Guy over on Dreamwidth. It looks more or less the same. I’ll have to see if and when Tumblr crumbles into dust and I leave it, but in the meantime I will be treating both as my main platform. I’ve already posted the contents of the blog onto Dreamwidth and back-dated it--admittedly, there isn’t much, which is my fault. 

I’m working on that; I have two new posts in the make for the near future. I will also attempt to be less sporadic with my updates in the future.

[someguyontheinternettalks]

Nana Grizol - Explained Away.

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A Softer World 234 - (mistakes aren’t always regrets)

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9 - (i love you forever)

Photograph courtesy of Larm Rmah on Unsplash.

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7 - (I miss the waves.)

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5 - (This is a tale you’ve heard many times before)

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Some Guy: Moon

Moon is a ‘zine of sixteen pieces of short fiction (one-page comics and maximum one-hundred and thirty word prose) that regard the moon without necessarily being explicitly about the moon. 

In the stories, the moon is often only mentioned, instead of being the focus of the narrative. For example, in one story, the moon is only something the narrator looks at through their window, while the rest of the writing talks about magic. As a matter of fact, one of the stories does not mention the moon at all, but instead the absence of it. In these stories, the moon functions as a context, where the narrative can then run by itself, without needing to center around the moon. However, in being the context, the moon plays an important part of the story. Though it stays in the background, the moon colours each story with a feeling of wonderment and the ethereal. The stories play to this, ranging from talks of seemingly magical practices to an unsettling midnight exchange. Though the stories never never turn their attention towards the moon, they all reflect the moon in them-- showing the moon’s light, if not its surface.

In each story, the moon hangs visitor, overlooking the events with the same mysterious smile on its face.

Moon can be purchased here.

[someguyontheinternettalks]

Six Year Old Question of The Day

Six Year Old Question of The Day is a series in which I ask a question, and then attempt to answer it, staying in the realm of the mostly possible, though it might stray into the realm of the theoretical*.

The name is based off of an idea of a friend of mine, and thus will not actually be daily. The gist of the idea was to ask oneself a question that seemed like the kind of question a child would ask— digging deeper into what most would overlook as it just being the way it is, and such.

Of course, the real difference between the series an actual six year old’s questions** is the swearing.

*Which notably has a very weak gate system.

**Potentially.

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4- (The hands of the past will not leave just yet.)

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3- (lost in the sand)

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2- (Hey, YOU wanted this.)

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1- (look underneath the surface.) 

Photo from bossfight.co.

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Some Guy: The Wander Society and The Line

Alright, so starting off the Keri Smith marathon extravaganza are the two most deviant books so far that still stay in her weirdly infectious brand of creativity.

The Wander Society is much more of a traditional book-- it’s like a guide, and although there’s some sample of creative activities, it’s buried amongst the typical writing, and no space is given for them to be done. It’s also exclusively hardcover, which in itself shows that the book is not meant to be played with like the others. Instead, it’s a discovery and book about a creative society-- The Wander Society. It details the discovery of a mysterious underground movement by the author, Keri Smith, and is a collection of the basic themes and goals of the society. In the style of a more traditional book, it fully lays out a concept and idea instead of being the typical combination of prompts. With The Wander Society, there is a longer shelf life as it promotes a self-dictated life style instead of being an adventure within a book. To say, The Wander Society almost maps out the source of the more typical Keri Smith books-- asides from being a tad bit more specific about the wandering. Either way, the change in form is a skillful one.

The Line is a notepad style (binding from the top) minimalistic books in which someone draws a line from page to page and does things with it that form a journey. So far the 80% of the book is... underwhelming. Though The line is different leap of type of book for Keri Smith, the execution falters horribly. There’s nothing to do that really catches one’s muse or creativity-- it’s just an railroaded course. This might be decent enough for a start-up artist, but as the latest Keri Smith book, The Line falls flat. Where The Wander Society was able to use its change in style to its best ability to really make the society come to life-- both in the illusion of one, and also in the readers heart so they might truly make it real, The Line was a one trick pony that only had me to the end through my sheer curiosity. That could be definitely be interpreted as its thesis, but if that’s it’s hardly a compelling one. All it proves is that the book itself wasn’t really interesting enough to keep my attention. The line only really touches on its actual thesis and actually pulls out the interesting things in the final ten or so precent, which is a shame, because I found that bringing the line to life and it having power in the real world to be much more compelling. The book feels bloated, stuffed with meaningless fluff under which the truth is hidden.

[someguyontheinternettalks]

As I briefly alluded to in my Wreck This Journal post, I’m going to be ‘reading’ through every single Keri Smith book and then blogging about them, eventually. (This manner of reading takes a lot of time.) In the meantime, though, I figure since it’s so many (And I’m quite excited, I’ve only ever really ‘read’ Wreck This Journal, The Wander Society and This is Not a Book) I should write something about the vague order I’ll be ‘reading’ and writing in, along with some of my hopes and expectations of the books (I’ve read through all of their introductions). Some books might not have enough on them to make a regular post, so I might make a post regarding multiple books. So, here goes.

I figure I’ll start off with a post on The Wander Society and The Line as they are Keri Smith’s most deviant books so far. I’ve already read The Wander Society and find it makes a good creativity and exploration guide, and I’ve made some significant progress into The Line and don’t expect it to really pull out anything that warrants a post to it’s own. Even any criticism I have of it isn’t too deep.

After that I figure I’ll then make a post on The Pocket Scavenger and maybe some more snippets on the individual parts Wreck This Journal— admittedly, Pocket Scavenger is the one that appeals to me the least.

 After that it’ll be Mess and a reread of This is Not a Book, but only if there isn’t enough to put a single post about each one on its own, so it’s a coin toss. I feel like Mess is a refinement of Wreck This Journal’s more... wreck-y parts, and I’m quite excited for this. This is Not a Book feels more like a spiritual successor to Wreck This Journal with the same playfulness and clear theme, though I believe I like Not a Book more. 

Finally there’s F nish Th s B k, How to be an Explorer of the World, and The Imaginary World of , all of which are more guided in their stories. While I have had a copy of F nish Th s B k that I’ve definitely flipped through before, I believe I rushed ‘reading’ it and thus feel I don’t have much of an experience with it. I have a weird sense of deja vu with How to be an Explorer of the World. I don’t know why. I figure all of the books will be in one single slightly long post or all have a separate post.