“...publishers, for their survival, must be more wary than ever of choosing manuscripts, good or bad, that are likely to make a healthy profit at once. They will be no longer patrons of literature of many kinds. They must look for a blockbuster, whether it’s a masterpiece or a lump of trash.”
ALISTAIR COOKE
The above quote comes from a wonderful 1980s BBC, ‘Letter from America’ by the great broadcaster Alistair Cooke. In it, he laments the transformation of ‘the publisher’ into ‘the book business’. The book business came about by the systematic gobbling up of America’s publishing houses by large corporations, viewing them as new profit centres. Once these large beasts surfaced, they looked across the Atlantic and salivated with glee at all those little British independent publishers waiting to be consumed. Today, most of the old imprints working from the Georgian houses dotted around Bloomsbury, St James’s and Mayfair have all been shoehorned into glass corporate boxes. And what Alistair Cooke was describing in his broadcast as ‘the book business’ happened here too, along with high-profile literary agent auctions with all the razzmatazz that accompanies them.
FROM COW GUM TO DIGITAL
Prior to the digital age, finding out what was going on in the design world was a question of detective work, looking at design annuals, books, periodicals, exhibitions and museums. It was an imposed delayed gratification. If you were lucky enough to travel, you made sure you took your Pentax SLR to snap every inspiring thing you saw.
But all that ended when the curtain of the world was pulled back by the internet. We were able to gorge on everything and anything, all available 24/7, 365 days at the click of a mouse. The geographical boundaries were no more. In a short space of time, there was an elephants’ graveyard of parallel motion boards, Grant projectors and gallons of cow gum. Letterpresses and phototypesetters quickly went out of business, along with repo houses. Not long after, digital cameras started to appear, and the writing was on the wall for roll film, photographic processing labs and the many film editing houses in Soho.
With the introduction of the first computers in the studio, many designers became rather enamoured by all of the grids and guidelines that appeared on the screen; for a while, this became an accidental techno style in its own right. The influential magazine 8vo is a good example of this and the work of Why Not Associates. This graphic ‘style’ started to pop up everywhere.
(Above) 8vo magazine started a techno style trend in the 80s when studios were in their digital infancy.
(Above) Why Not Associates made the techno style very much their own.
THE PUBLISHER AS HERO
In 1981, John McConnell, then a Pentagram partner, was approached by Robert McCrum, editorial director of Faber & Faber, to look at the design of their books. The firm had a long tradition of handling the design of the inside text, rather than have an external printer dictate it. The same had applied over at the paperback house Penguin Books, carefully monitored initially by Jan Tschichold, who later handed on the baton to Hans Schmoller as head of typography and design for three decades. But all that eventually ended when cost-cutting CEO Peter Mayer discovered that it was far cheaper to photograph the hardback publisher’s text and reduce it to Penguin’s format, rather than reset it in Penguin’s house style.
But Faber & Faber still cherished their own bespoke typographical standards originally overseen by Richard de la Mare and responsible for bringing in Berthold Wolpe, who had been designing jackets for Victor Gollancz. He joined Faber's in-house production studio in 1941 during a time of wartime shortages Wolpe's 2 colour line, non illustrated, bold typographical designs fitted the bill during this period of austerity. He stayed with Faber & Faber until his retirement in 1975 having clocked up 1500 jacket designs. The story goes that after Wolpe's departure Faber & Faber invited Herbert Spencer to look at the design of the inside of their books, but his suggestions were frowned upon by the tight-knit design production team, well entrenched in Wolpe's design doctrine, so Spencer’s suggestions went no further. Meanwhile, canny John McConnell realised that it would be pointless to mess with the well-versed internal production team and suggested to McCrum that he not take that aspect on but instead look at the identity. Back then, that usually meant a new logo and letterhead – job done. But McConnell had other ideas. He had always been impressed by Penguin’s design legacy: the very thing that had been lost courtesy of Peter Mayer’s economics and personal influence over the presentation of covers.
"Every sales director wants to know if they can have the type bigger. So I say, "The book is only 6 inches wide, and you cannot get it any bigger.". But what they really mean is, "Can you make my book stand out more in the shop?." Nothing stands out in American bookshops because they treat every book as a product in its own right and they're all screaming so loudly. They have their volume knobs turned up full blast... The trick is to go the other way.
JOHN McCONNELL
(Above) just a fraction of the many jackets that John McConnell was responsible for, during his time as creative and board director at Faber & Faber.
McConnell had a great belief that Faber & Faber was special and should present itself as a ‘brand’ in its own right as a trusted mark of literary integrity, rather as Deutsche Grammophon had done with musical recordings – a label to aspire to for its recording excellence. It was clear to McConnell that the presentation of Faber & Faber’s covers would form a big part of this. McCrum then introduced McConnell to Managing Director Matthew Evans. They hit it off, and both Evans and McCrum gave their blessing to McConnell’s much larger project. And that turned into one of the great design moments in publishing. Over a relatively short period of time, the consistency and recognisable visual style for Faber & Faber became very apparent in bookshops. It achieved this by having a range of cover structures for the entire list. McConnell allocated specific illustrators and designers, resulting in consistent sub-brands for different segments of the list, all consistent high-quality designs. In bookshops, Faber & Faber stood out en masse from the scattergun look of most other hardback publishers. Once bedded in, the approach continued smoothly, with McConnell not only as the overarching creative director but also, at the suggestion of Evans and McCrum, a member of Faber & Faber’s board. McConnell suggested that long-term Faber & Faber production department employee, Shirley Tucker be made art director. At that time, I had the pleasure of designing many covers for Faber & Faber’s music and film list. I never had anything rejected; the commissioning and approval process was a dream.
But a decade and a half later, things started to unravel. Matthew Evans retired, and Robert McCrum had a massive stroke and was incapacitated. There followed a new managing director and a general reshuffle. In my own experience, when this happens the, ‘not invented here’ syndrome surfaces. New arrivals always have their view of the status quo and often come armed with a big broom. As was the case with covers: the wrecking balls came out to demolish McConnell’s beautifully built Faber & Faber design structure. McConnell left his posts and handed over the responsibility of cover design to another Pentagram partner. Initially, things continued in reasonable shape, but it didn’t last long, and the pressures of change started to appear on jackets from the late 1990s.
In Joseph Connolly’s rather biased book Faber and Faber: Eighty Years of Book Cover Design, published in 2009, Connolly, an antiquarian bookseller, clearly has a personal view about Faber & Faber’s design history, firmly rooted in the early years of the firm through to the 1950/60s, when Berthold Wolpe had a firm grip on Faber & Faber’s design. Connolly praises this period thus: “...Wolpe found a way to make these jackets also instantly identifiable as Faber books while retaining the individuality of every single one on them...The cumulative effect of all these jackets gathered together in this way is quite simply overwhelming, I hope in the very best sense.”
I would take issue with Connolly’s analysis. In the early 1960s, Faber & Faber’s covers were anathema to most of us young designers starting out back then. Compared with the creative explosion happening all around us in London, Faber covers were dull, repetitious, often slapdash, with Wolpe’s endless use of his own creation, the typeface Albertus, taking up every square inch of many of the jackets. I have never understood the affection, indeed reverence, afforded to Wolpe’s body of work. Sorry, Berthold.
However my favourite comic, in the early 1950s, was the futuristic Eagle. Little did I know then that the masthead lettering was drawn by Berthold Wolpe and the eagle by Frank Hampson.
I know my view of Wolpe's jacket output will upset all those typographical geeks out there, but that’s the way it was for us young hopefuls, we wanted to wholeheartedly embrace the now. Call it the arrogance of youth if you like, but was the view by many of us back then. On the part of Connolly’s view, it’s pure nostalgia for his preferred period. And for the younger generation of designers today, who seem to worship the work, I think it’s a kind of longing for a nostalgia that they never actually lived through.
WHAT SOME OTHER DESIGNERS WERE DOING IN THE EARLY 1960s
Above two jackets designed by Raymond Hawkey, they generally tended to be photographic solutions.
(Above) Three jackets designed by Keith Cunningham. He worked exclusively for Peter Owen Publishers during the 1960s. For reasons of economy the jackets were only printed in two colour, but no matter, Cunningham always rose to the occasion.
(Above) Two jackets designed by Jack Larkin 1964.
(Above) Two jackets designed by Derek Holmes 1966.
"In an ideal world book covers wouldn’t contain anything but essential information..."ANGUS HYLAND
By 2000, apart from the ff colophon, there was little evidence of McConnell’s influence. The covers were once again produced in house, with the resulting loss of a unique identity. The sad fact is that design is a very fragile thing. It can be destroyed at a whim, often by people with little understanding of what design can actually do.
(Above) A selection of recent Faber&Faber jackets mirroring the approach of the1950s, all looking remarkably like the output of any of the other mainstream publishers.
The following quote from designer designer Robin Kinross is specifically critical of Penguin Books, but it could just as well be levelled at Faber & Faber.
“One might urge the company to really learn the lessons of its history, not through visual imitation and self-reference, but by cool analysis of present needs and possibilities."
ROBIN KINROSS, 2007
FROM THE 80s INTO THE NAUGHTIES
(Above) Picador's art director, Gary Day-Lewis commissioned a series of Ian McEwan books, designed by Russell Mills and Vaughan Oliver, 1984
(Above) Paperback covers designed by Angus Hyland while art director of Minerva in the 90's.
(Above) Angus Hyland's covers for the Canongate Pocket Canon bible series from the late 1990s. They were influential in showing a more creative approach in the use of library imagery.
(Above) cover designed by Nicholas Thirkell for V&A publications in 1990 .
(Above) Series styling by Jamie Keenan with the work of Illustrator Marion Deuchars 2001.
(Above) a collaboration between designer Fernando Gutiérrez and Illustrator Marion Deuchars for Spanish publisher, Losada 2002.
(Above) These stunningly beautiful, completely hand painted and letter jackets for Bloomsbury, were created by Jeffrey Fisher, a true maverick, in the early 1990s, without a mouse in sight! Sadly, looking at the presentation of Bloomsbury jackets today, I think it unlikely that they will ever do anything like this again.
THE DESIGNER'S DILEMMA
Publishers have always been mean with designers, paying little money considering the amount of time that can be spent designing a single cover. And when a design is presented, it is no longer the simple approval process of old, involving just the publisher’s art and sales directors to pass judgement. Now, a cover, often with 3 or 4 variations, will be scrutinised by the editorial, publicity and marketing teams, and, depending on the importance of the book, the writer will also have their say. At each step on that approval ladder, comments, suggestions and objections are gathered, analysed and fed back to Jennie or Johnny designer. This has the result that many covers emanating from the big publishing conglomerates look remarkably alike.
"I’ve noticed that dead authors get the best book jackets. I’ll let you draw your own conclusion as to why this is." PETER MENDELSUND
Nearly every publishing house has the same approval process, with all and sundry chipping in their twopenn'orth; (e.g. “Make the type bigger. Not sure about the colour. Let’s have a couple of quotes. It’s well worth adding that it’s on the Costa long list. Will it work on Amazon’s site? Will it stand out on Waterstone’s tables?” Etc.). John McConnell referred to this kind of committee creation as the ‘Italian wedding’ solution: let’s give the bride everything she wants.
AMERICAN CHUTZPAH
“No meetings with the marketing department. That’s when the pile-ons start to happen, where committee jackets start to happen: the Frankenstein jackets.”
PETER MENDELSUND
(Above) Peter Mendelsund in his studio. Note the Alan Aldridge cover from Penguin Books 1966, featuring John Lennon (centre). And an example of on of his jacket designs below.
Chip Kidd wearing a nice jacket and another he made earlier below.
A self portrait of Christopher Neiman. And below the cover of one of his own books.
We all know that the Americans love to celebrate success, and graphic designers have not escaped this. Chip Kidd, Christopher Neiman and Peter Mendelsund are all highly sought-after and are often referred to as ‘superstars’. And if you believe their publicity (yes, they have their own press people), then they appear to have enormous freedom, if Peter Mendelsund’s quote above is anything to go by. You certainly don’t see acres of quotes on covers designed by these high-flyers. And looking at what has been going on across the pond in recent years, they do seem to have the edge. Or do they?
In part 4: The last in this series, I'll look at the work of the ‘celebrity’ designers of the American publishing world. I'll ask, “where are our inspirational ‘mavericks’ today?” And explain the background to the formation of The Academy of Book Cover Design Awards (ABCD), as well as the world of independent publishers. And I'll show examples of the best, in my humble view, of British book cover design today. Until then.
Listen to Alastair Cooke's 'Letter from America' HERE
More on Keith Cunningham HERE
If you missed part 1 it's HERE
If you missed part 2 it's HERE