Whoever said you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover obviously didn’t appreciate the beauty in the cover of a book.
As a book lover, I must confess that each time I am browsing through titles I would like to buy, my eye is always drawn to the prettiest, the most sophisticated or classic-looking, the one with the most character!
Sure, there is infinitely more in the textual material that is found within the book, but why should one not enjoy the prettiness of the cover?
I for one gravitate toward the hardcovers more than the paperbacks. Expense be damned. Book-collecting is an art. And having books on your shelf that you can be proud to look at or touch is something of a dream for a book lover. I dream of hardcovers bound by a trained hand, with gold embossing. I dream of books carefully fashioned in the early 1900s, with thoughtful cover art. I dream of leather-backed books with a texture that is the doorway to the wonder of what lies within. Yes, the stuff of today is modern and sleek and easy to carry around (unless you are lugging around an 800-pager), but am I the only one nostalgic for a more unique copy that avid readers before my time enjoyed?
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