by Candy • Tuesday, August 28, 2007 at 06:11 AM
A little while ago, Bookslut ran a very entertaining feature on children’s book covers featuring wizards, complete with various makeovers. I figured we here at Smart Bitch Central could shamelessly rip off this idea pay homage to this idea and talk about some of the classics of our genre and how their covers have evolved. First up on the chopping block: that doyenne of hearts and savages and thunder and savagely thundering hearts, Johanna Lindsey. For extra bonus funtimes, swap around the titles and covers. Hell, swap around the individual words! They’re astonishingly interchangeable. Brave the Wild Rogue! A Heart so Savage! Gentle Thunder!
Savage Thunder
This cover, perhaps more than any other, is THE classic Lindsey cover. It has that red-haired chick in a mildly creepy supplicant pose, suggesting that Humjobs Are Imminent--or maybe that crotches will be bashed with fatal force against foreheads. Difficult to tell sometimes. It has some kind of random animal freaking the fuck out in the background. And it has Fabio. Wearing Uggs. With hair dyed black--presumably because that makes him look Indian--and flowing in the wind, except in this case, the wind seems to be coming from below and directly behind him. A thundering savage, indeed. I read this book when I was seventeen years old, and to be honest, I can’t remember a goddamn thing about it other than the sex-on-a-horse scene (she wakes up! On horseback! And she’s coming like a rocket! And then they have crazy screaming balls-out sex on a galloping horsie!) and the cover. Hey, I was a horny teenager. What the hell do you expect me to find most memorable about a Johanna Lindsey novel?
And the re-make? Let’s take a look, shall we?
What the hell? From Little Blowjob on the Prairie to Little House on the Prairie. Surreal. Also, deeply deceptive of its contents. Much as the previous cover makes me cringe, it at least accurately conveyed what you found within. That cover smacks you on the face and proudly proclaims “Feisty redhead heroine alert! You’ll probably want to smack the shit out of her before the book is over! Lots of sweaty, dirty, OMGHOT sex! Indian dude with massive chip on his shoulder! There will be lots of yelling, both when they argue and when they screw like horny, horny weasels!”
The new cover says, rather sedately, “I am a family saga. There are two sisters. And lots of descriptions of the brutal winters. One of them marries a preacher who turns out to be an alcoholic. The other one--the plain one--injures her leg, loses her faith in God, and finds her faith again when she adopts a starving urchin.”
This cover’s much less embarrassing to cart around, but I gotta say, I kinda prefer the old one.
A Heart So Wild
Ahhh, the When Vampire Cowboys Go Gay cover. So much love. So much gauntness. So much inexplicable posturing--I mean, tango is sexy and all, but why in the fuck are they practicing right by a roaring campfire? One of the classic conundrums of our time.
We go from that bit of pulp camp to:
Ah, yes. I remember this phase of Johanna Lindsey covers. For a while, all her reissues had these huge, lurid flowers on them, and then they were plain with the occasional paint splatter in the background--I like to think of them as the half-assed Jackson Pollock phase of Lindsey covers. They were by and large inoffensive, but also boring as hell, though if I remember correctly, these often had mantitty-licious stepbacks. If I had to choose, I’d say this one makes me less embarrassed to cart around in public, but this isn’t by any means a good cover.
Brave the Wild Wind
If there’s one thing you can learn from this cover, it’s that you can stick two hot, mostly-naked people in a raging torrent of radioactive goo, and it STILL won’t make it sexy. Years from now, the woman’s going to be popping out two-headed kittens and children with their organs on the outside of their bodies, and she’ll be sobbing with regret into her oatmeal. Why did she take that modelling job in college? Why? Whyyyyy?
We go from that piece of strangeness to:
Holy bloated pink horsies, Batman! That horse is straight from a “Where Are They Now” special on My Little Pony. After the Saturday Morning cartoon series, after the insane merchandising, after the mobs of adoring girls, obscurity hit Chocolate Stallion hard. He developed a nasty coke habit, was forced to get a bleach job, and started posing on romance novel covers. How the mighty have fallen.
This re-issue manages to be both more discreet AND more hilarious than the old one. That takes talent.
Gentle Rogue
The cover change for this book is perhaps one of the most whiplash-inducing re-work of all time. But as with all things, you can basically categorize it using a LOLCat dichotomy.
That up there? Visible Buttsecks.
The new cover?
Invisible Buttsecks.
That’s all for now. Stay tuned for next week, when we take on Catherine Coulter. Try not to pee yourself with anticipation.
by Candy • Tuesday, September 25, 2007 at 05:41 PM
A few weeks ago, we brought you Cover Makeovers, the Johanna Lindsey edition, wherein a team of five flamingly homosexual cover art specialists are hand-picked to overhaul the...wait, CRAP, the expiration date on that joke was 2004. At any rate, in our first edition of Cover Makeovers, we looked at the evolution of the pièces d’art gracing the masterworks of that Doyenne of Bodice Rippery, Johanna Lindsey. Up on this week’s chopping block: that Beldame of Heaving Bosoms, Catherine Coulter.
Let’s play Spot the Theme with the older covers, shall we? Let’s look at these covers, especially the first two, and ponder what similarities there may be. I wonder what they could be? Hmmmm.
Look at the hair! And that eyeshadow! FIERCE! But really, it’s the little touches that make these covers magical. Take the swan in cover numéro deux, for example. Is it:
a) Zeus in disguise, being a pervy voyeur and enjoying a little vicarious what-what-in-the-butt;
b) an innocent bird flushed (hur hur hur) out of its comfortable nest because all these scantily-dressed people with terrible eye makeup and enough hairspray to ignite all of Sudan insist on having buttsecks right on top of it;
c) a visually punny indicator of the fowl (HUR HUR HUR) perversions afoot; or
d) a metaphor for the hero’s long, skinny penis?
I’d vote for (c), but in all honesty, (b) is the most likely answer.
(I wonder if ornithologists noticed any disruptions in swan nesting patterns in the late 70s and early 80s? Because there were a lot of swans on these goddamn covers. I mean a lot.)
The cover re-makes, while a great deal more tasteful, are also a great deal more boring. Look at them:
These covers probably paint all the walls of their houses colors like “eggshell cream” and would clutch at their pearls in shock at the very idea of non-consensual sex involving the hero jamming cream up the reluctant heroine’s hoo-hoo as both foreplay and lubricant. ‘Tis a sad fact but true: the older covers, while hilariously bad, at least provided a modicum of truth in advertising.
Up next on the chopping block: Loretta Chase, whose Indian name could easily be Eternally Cursed with Covers Featuring Greasy Men With Dodgy Hair. Stay tuned!
by SB Sarah • Wednesday, April 16, 2008 at 10:30 AM
Inspired by snarkhunter’s comment in our last cover snark, and clamored for by many, including me despite my own exceptionally poor OMG Bad Photoshop skillz (they are not uber uber l33t by a longshot), behold: a contest to kick off our new site design. I give you: LOL COVER SNARK!
The rules: add your LOLCoverSnark to the comments, and we’ll judge in the comment thread itself for the best of the group. You can your vote if you don’t like to comment (Hi Lurkers! Hayadoin?). Comments will close in 24 48 hours (G’day Australia!) and winners will get books and a Romance Novel magnetic poetry set for their very own.
And now, our samples, let us show you them.
by SB Sarah • Tuesday, April 29, 2008 at 10:24 AM
Some old-school cover gems from the woman who perfected the “If she can tell the difference between the identical twins, it must be twu wuv!” schtick in Romancelandia.
Sarah: Ah, yes, the historical version of “Before He Cheats.” Instead of digging a car key into the door of a pretty souped-up four-wheel drive, she’s going to put his head through his own lute because he got way, WAY too merry with his band of merry men.
Candy:: He thinks she’s paralyzed with desire; she’s just hoping that this George Hamilton wannabe’s sunless bronzer doesn’t rub off on her skin or her clothing.
Sarah: Nothing says ‘Historical romance’ like a poly-cotton nightgown from JC Penneys, circa 1982.
Candy: He looks mildly brain-damaged. She looks like a Real Doll. It’s a match made in heaven!
Sarah: There had so better be a disclaimer at the back of that book stating that no horses were harmed in the creation of the cover art, because it looks like they’re dropping to the earth from about 30,000 feet up and the horse is the only one who has recognized their imminent landing.
Candy: I’ve talked before about the bizarre physics at work in romance novels and how it affects hair. This one just straight-up confounds me. Unless the guy is a humanoid Van de Graaf generator, I’m at a loss to explain the heroine’s hair. (The hero’s hair--and appearance in general--can pretty much be explained by an inordinate love of man-sauce, I think.)
by SB Sarah • Monday, May 05, 2008 at 03:07 AM
It’s that time of year again: the 2007 slate of covers in the Cover Cafe’s annual Cover Controversy contest are up, ready for your votes and comments. If ever I’m having a shittastic day, I go back into past cover contests and gaze at the wonderment of covers gone horribly horribly wrong.
This year, the slate of worst covers is pretty damn good, and by “good” I mean, “Eager to make you say WTF were they THINKING?” Kensington Publishing, you are getting a monster load of publicity out of this year’s contest, lemme tell you, because damn. And whoa. And holy crap. So here we have Candy and Sarah trying to figure out which one gets their vote for the worst cover of 2007.
Sarah: There were some gawdawful covers last year. I can think of a few that turned my stomach to an even deeper yogic twist than some of these, but I have to say, as a slate of terrible, this slate is pretty good. Not great - there were plenty that were much, much worse - but on the whole, not bad for badness. I didn’t upload every single one, since some of them weren’t really poor enough to be among the worst. So here’s our slate.
Candy: I’ve seen worse, to be honest, and I have mixed feelings about that. On one hand: it really does seem like publishers are finally learning and moving away from the fug. Some of the Worst Cover nominees from 2006 and 2005, for example, I actually liked--but then I dig the comic book look and don’t find comics embarrassing the way some of the commentators apparently do. On the other hand: I derive a certain measure of delicious masochistic pain from the terrible covers, and lots of belly laughs from the ensuing commentary in the contest. Less fug = less fun. The genre wins, but my selfish side wants the cheap laugh, goddammit.
That said: There are still quite a few gems from this particular batch.
Also: when you’re done looking at the snark, head over to Cover Cafe and cast your vote.
Candy: So THIS is what it looks like when Cousin Itt gets a trim and tries to fuck a tribble! Hawt!
Sarah: Nothing says “oh yeah” like necking in the fiery depths of the earth’s core while feeling your skin slowly melt from your body. Hawt indeed!
Candy: Great. You know Cinemax is starting to run low on ideas when they start resorting to “When PR Interns Go Wild” for the late night softcore offerings.
Sarah: The car! The car is tilting at a not-even-closer-to-horizontal dizzying angle and they’re about to roll off the cliff into a fiery oblivion! Wait, apparently they’ve identified the problem and are going out with a bang. You’d think they’d hurry up and get themselves horizontal already.
Candy: Holy shit! My first thought: Post-op tranny love. And goddamn, that sister wasn’t shy about specifying exactly how big she wanted her bazooms to be.
Sarah: We’re moments away from knowing all there is to know about The Crying Game, with bonus DVD features, like this instructional shot that demonstrates how to grab one’s falsie like Wilson Phillips and hold on.
Candy: We’ve snarked this cover in the past, and I want to reiterate: Come on, Kensington. FOR SHAME. If you advertise big, spankable asses, we want big, spankable asses. We want thunderclap-worthy asses. (Warning: video mildly not-work-safe.) That ass? Not even worthy of a static shock.
Sarah: Not big. Not spankable. Not even close. And if the problem is with the title and not so much the cover image, then I expect “Baby of Shame” to make next year’s slate.
Candy: Oh my God. Between the contrast of the unnaturally perky, clean-cut blonde chick being groped by Gomez Addams’ creepy younger brother (I get the impression he sells used Kias for a living) and the looming house in the background, it’s like Amityville Horror meets the Osmonds.
Make the screaming in my head stop, mommy. Please?
Sarah: Apparently, after the wedding, someone went on a meth bender while operating Photoshop without a license, and this was the result. A bonafide disaster.
Candy: You know, other than the fact that that’s way more skin than I want on the front cover of my book, there’s nothing too horribly wrong with this cover. It’s soft-focus softcore cheesy, and I can practically hear the smooth jazz playing in the background and breathy moans as I look at this, but compared to the other covers, my sensibilities haven’t been ripped out, ripped into shreds, danced upon with three-inch stiletto heels and set on fire.
Sarah: Nothing says, “This book has sex in it” like two people on the cover having sex. Thank you to this book for making it that much more difficult for me to defend accusations that romance = porn.
Especially with the jizztastic explosion of water going on behind her, there. If he orgasms that forcefully in real life, well, no wonder he has to hold onto her by the longhairs. She probably doesn’t have any short ones.
Candy: Touch of Madness? Well, yes, I believe necrophilia is typically a sign of SOME sort of pathology--especially when you start going for the ones who are starting to rot.
Sarah: I can hear the book trailer now: He’s creepy and he’s cooked -EEE!. She’s zombified and ookey. This sure don’t look like nookie. Clamp and Adams, scaring me.
by SB Sarah • Friday, May 16, 2008 at 11:07 AM
From Noelle: Photobombers make me cry mascara.
From a source I can’t remember (sorry, cool person!) we have a site that does nothing but cover snark and does it so well: Judge a Book by its cover. I’m particularly fond of Phallus Phridays. Because, dude. Awesome.
And from Star Opal and Sasha, Green Porno a short feature in which Isabella Rossellini, according to Star Opal, “dresses up as insects and bugs and shows how they have sex, playing (when necessary) both female and male roles.”
How can you not love that?
by SB Sarah • Monday, May 26, 2008 at 01:16 AM
I’m researching, reading about, reveling in, and reviewing cover art as I write the chapter for The Book (current working title: OMG The Whole Genre? What the Crack was I Smoking?) about covers, and lookee what I found:
Wanna own some Harlequin art from the 90’s? Sure you do! (The pleated Mom jeans are killing me, btw. OMG.) Four pieces by artist Gary McLaughlin are on sale now, ready for your bidding pleasure.
Seriously, am I the only one who wants to buy a few choice Zebra covers from the neon & pastels era, with big hair, bigger boob, and biggest mantitty, and hang those puppies up in my house? I am? Good. Less competition for me. To the eBay!
by Candy • Wednesday, May 28, 2008 at 09:07 AM
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.
by Candy • Tuesday, June 10, 2008 at 01:15 PM
Sharp-eyed reader Sandia alerted us to the fabulously odd differences between the US and UK editions of the Jh.Rh. Whard Bhlahck Dhaggher Bhrotherhood series. Somehow, the US readership totally lucked out in the covers for these books. The UK...? We’re really sorry.
Sarah: The US Dark Lover cover: brilliant in its simplicity. Maybe she’s taking a bite out of his crime, or maybe she’s nuzzling his carotid, but the female position of power, coupled with the sword and the bleak red tones make this a cover done marvelously well.
And then the UK cover: we’re wet and very sleepy. Nothing is scarier or sexier than sodden, soporific swimmers. RUN, or they’re going to yawn at you. Eh. Maybe.
Candy: I do admit that I like the US version quite a bit. The tattoo, the power inversion (the woman is usually in the position of vulnerability on romance novel covers), the red monochrome, the fact that there’s no vampire titty in evidence--très sexy. (Would that there were such a power inversion within the story, but the heroine’s kind of a doormat of a Mary Sue. A doormat who experiences fabulous orgasms, of course.)
The UK version isn’t half bad. It’s somewhat cheesier, mostly because I don’t like the font for Ward’s name, but I like the female model’s sad, contemplative look. I’m not sure why she looks so mopey, though. Perhaps she’s mourning the mangling of “revenge,” “torment,” “sadist” and “fury”? Or grieving for the wanton slaughter of Hs?
Sarah: The US Cover: blue, ethereal, sexy, and somehow manages to make the Adam’s apple rather sultry.
The UK cover: What the crap is this? It could be a vampire novel. It could be a commercial for Cialis. It could be he just saved a bunch of money on his car insurance by switching to Geico. It could be she has no discernible body fat and a complete lack of underarm wattle. But whatever it is, the image composition is limp and ineffective, two words the Brotherhood would be mighty peeved to have applied to them.
Candy: The US Cover: same schtick as Dark Lover, and I still like it, for all the same reasons I like the cover for Dark Lover.
The UK cover: Generic and rather forgettable, but lookit, these are romance novel covers, and my standards are shockingly low. This cover isn’t making my eyeballs burn, and for that, it gets a pass.
Sarah: The US Cover: I confess I like the solid color with the soft focus necking couples better than the greyscale black and white photography, but it’s still pretty darn sultry.
But the UK cover? Not only have I seen that piece of stock photography before, but in terms of the scale of hawt, it’s like tea left on the windowsill all day. Still, it’s marginally better than the rest of the UK set.
Candy: The US Cover: Except for the fact that I want to say ”OM NOM NOM NOM” every time I look at it, it’s OK. It’s starting to verge into generic romance cover with the sharper focus and the male in the biting position and a yuppie haircut.
The UK cover: The models look like they need a bit more food and a bit less working out, but this is true for most commercial models. Again, generic and unoffensive, but not especially memorable.
Sarah: The US Cover: Suntan lotion commercial!
Which goes perfectly with the UK cover, which features a Lands’ End swimsuit models preparing to go wild. Nice bathing suit.
Candy: The US cover transitions nicely into Romance Novel cheese. O-Face? Check. Dude nuzzlin’ on neck? Check. Wind-tossed hair? Check. Sunless bronzer all over this piece, son? Check. They like the sunless bronzer so much, they done poured it alllllll over the cover.
The UK cover, on the other hand, transitions nicely into JC Penney Sunday Coupon Page. Nothing says sexy like a wrinkly strap on a bra only your grandma could love.
Also: poor Ana Gasteyer. Her post-Saturday Night Live tenure has not treated her well.
Sarah: The US Cover: Nicholas Brendon necking a check. Nice.
The UK Cover: Emergency memo to art department! “Boner” is not the same as “boney.” “Vampire” does not mean he has puncture marks in his own cheeks. “Cystic Acne” does not say romance hero. And we won’t even mention the mullet.
But for the love of Escalade, the hero should not be thinner than the heroine. I’m well aware of the overpopulation of beefcake on the romance cover, but come on now. Too far in the other direction is just as bad. Especially when the Bhrotherhood is each and every one of them as big as a damn house.
Candy: The US cover: I like them so much better when I can’t clearly see the facial features. This guy is cute, but the patchy facial hair? Makes him look like he’s 18 or so, and about as threatening as a cooked noodle. And I’m all about the sweet heroes, really I am, but that’s just not the look that’s representative of the hypertrophied masculinity of the BDB.
The UK cover: Holy shit! That dude looks terrifying. He makes me think of leeches. Also, the spots on his face look like PLAAAAAGUE. Never have I felt the herpes emanating so strongly from a cover before. Look, when I say I want the male models to look a bit threatening, I didn’t mean “scare me with the possibility of contagious social diseases.”
Sarah: The US Cover is still rocking that sexy ethereal look that I think totally scores.
...while the UK Cover is continuing with the “Lands’ End Swimsuit models go wild” theme, this time featuring Heather Locklear in a nice halter top, possibly faille. Nothing says vampires like swimsuits, apparently. That must make them easy to spot in the UK. Man in a Speedo walking down Edgeware Road? He’s a vampire, looking for the werewolves in London.
Candy: US cover: Something about the lifeless, mannequin-like look on both models is freaking me out a bit, actually. Again, by romance novel cover standards, this cover ain’t too shabby, but these two in particular fall squarely in the uncanny valley for me.
UK cover: Um, I envy her sports bra? Otherwise, the two of them look about as vigorous as the models in the US cover, though this time it’s because they took too much Xanax before deciding to make out, not because they’re android experiments gone wrong.
by Candy • Wednesday, June 25, 2008 at 05:20 PM
In this week’s cover snark: oceans of fabric, and we do mean oceans. And then a peekaboo leg. What the hell is up with that? And also mullets, but then we’ve given up on speculating why those are still around.
Candy (in an appalling David Attenborough impression): “And here we see the rare Bedsheet Hellbeast consuming its prey. By cleverly simulating high-threadcount linens, this nocturnal beast often sets out lures for the unsuspecting human, often in the form of a member of the opposite sex with over-developed mammaries. The victims’ attempts to escape are futile once they fall into its grasp. Witness the writhings of this particular victim. Her attempts to claw her way out will only entangle her further.”
Sarah: Some heroes shapeshift and turn into wolves. Seals. Lions. Tigers. Lygers. Oh my. But this guy, he shapeshifts into the finest Egyptian cotton bedsheets. Pretty handy when company invades at the last minute. But then, you know the wet spot? He IS the wet spot.
And what is up with her toes? Check out the udder-ly bizarre toes under the “SS” in “Passion.” Perhaps she’s shifting, only instead of bedsheets, she’s a mop.
Candy: “And here we see a close cousin of the Bedsheet Hellbeast, the Wedding Dress Snorcher. Notice how the lure in this instance is coated with a sheen of digestive enzymes. This makes the breaking down of the copious amounts of keratin on this particular prey an easier enterprise.”
Sarah: There’s simply not enough double-leg amputee romance out there. And there’s really not enough double-leg amputee who was the victim of a rogue wedding gown that twisted itself around his thighs, cutting off circulation in a fit of jealous rage.
Candy: “And here we see a juvenile Snorcher in the preliminary stages of acquiring its prey. Notice how it attaches a feeding veil to the head of its victim. This allows it to render its victim unconscious, thereby eliminating the dangers associated with vigorous struggling.”
Sarah: Yet another secret kept by heroines all over RomanceLandia: how to hide the hideously calloused feet. Climbing all those mountains barefoot wearing wedding dresses and ballgowns, it leaves one with soles of leather, rough enough to sand chopped wood into floorboards and thick enough to walk over hot coals, hot water, and the hot oil treatment preferred by this and every hero. It’s a trick, keeping those yellow soles hidden from view. How do they do it? We may never know.
Page 1 of 1 pages
