I know I promised Jude Deveraux for this week’s cover makeovers, but holy shitmonkeys, y’all, I was cleaning out my hard drive and found covers for Catherine Coulter’s Night trilogy, and I couldn’t resist. The Montgomery Twins and Velvety Love Sauce will just have to wait until later.
Man, that’s a lot of hair. Hair only Clairol could love. Seriously, why do you think the guy looks so intent? His gaze isn’t on her face or her body. It seems focused somewhere above her left ear. He’s checking her roots, man.
And oh my God! She’s wearing the puffy shirt.
Except her shirt is even more so. Look at those sleeves! They’re practically ready to pop, they’re so full. Did they have air-filled inserts for those things back in the day, or mini-panniers for arms? Is it stuffed with chunks of man-titty, which she cut off as proof of her conquests?
This cover is so deliciously tacky, I kind of expect Chuck Norris to be driving out of his grave in his supercharged pickup truck any fucking minute in the background of this cover.
The new cover: it’s the ubiquitous Horse Freaking the Fuck Out, except in silhouette. Let us ponder the significance of the shadow suspended in all eternity, running away from heroes who consider using cream to lubricate their cocks sufficient foreplay towards a future bright with miles upon miles of Aquanetted hair.
This cover comes from the school of “Let’s pour melted Crisco on everybody, because if there’s anything more attractive than 80s bangs and mullets, it’s greasy 80s bangs and mullets.” It’s also from the “Limbs are confusingly and randomly placed for optimal confusion and resemblance to xenomorphic aliens.” Seriously. Look at the bit of leg jutting out towards the lower left corner of the cover. Then look at the placement of her butt, and then the hump in the cover where her knee presumably is. I can’t make sense of it. It’s positively Escher-like. Does she have six limbs, or is there a corpse under the covers? I can’t tell.
And the image for this cover is…a tree.
A dripping tree. Though I can almost see a face in it. See that dangly bit down the middle? It’s totally an elephant! Mmmm, Rorschach-a-licious.
This is about as innocuous as it gets, and the change in tone and feel between the old and new covers is enough to give me whiplash.
More greasiness! More 80s bangs! More mullets! Except her hair is being blown directly off her face, indicating a wind coming from the ground. Maybe it’s generated by the grass collectively exhaling in exasperation? Maybe she just dropped from the sky directly onto this dude?
What I find hilarious is how tasteful and restrained the new covers are compared to the originals. This one could be plastered on just about anything nautically related, from a biography of Magellan to stories featuring people with names like Hornblower, Ramsbottom and Bracegirdle. There’s absolutely no hint of the copious amounts of sexx0ring and brutish hero antics that lie within the pages. It’s tantamount to false advertising, but them’s the rules: the bestselling authors get tasteful covers, no matter how lurid the contents within; the mid-listers and newbie authors take what they can get and feel grateful they’re not stuck with the Pillsbury Doughboy.