At the end of September, I had the opportunity to wander around downtown Asheville on a particularly beautiful Fall afternoon and evening. I was happy to grab the camera and document this energetic — and photogenic — city.
Downtown is a wonderful mix of Art Deco, 20th Century, and modern buildings:
Grove Arcade (Detail #5), 1 Page AveGrove Arcade (Detail #6), 1 Page AveDowntown Buildings in Evening Light (#1), Haywood St
Which intermix with delightful details:
Basilica of Saint Lawrence, Deacon and Martyr (Detail #2), 97 Haywood StThe Appalachian Dancers Of The Ashville Urban Trail #1, Flint StPack Library (Building Detail), 67 Haywood StEdison Light in Fall Window Display, Wall St
It was a quick visit; I was traveling and had only the one afternoon free — but was very much reminded that Asheville deserves more. As the smaller Southeast cities go, it has a special quality.
Shopping Daze At Sunset #1, Haywood and Walnut Sts
I will be back, hopefully soon, so please look forward to more.
The Flat Iron (Hotel) Star at Sunset, Battery Park & WallAsheville Panorama (from Above Hemingway’s, 15 Page Ave) – Click to Enlarge.
Design is grand; illustration and type are grand, too; the new BMW Alpina is a grand tourer extraordinaire; and space photography is grand indeed. Only Adobe, unfortunately, is the outlier, but on balance, a grand sendoff to Spring.
This month’s Spine
University of Chicago Press.
I inked as many jokes as I could — penishment, one could say — but the University Presses column is still worth a read when you have a moment.
Painting book covers
Hyperallergic comments, “In a market flooded with design templates and AI-generated imagery, the painted cover stands out as distinctly human.” Which, they suppose, is why when you “[w]alk into any bookstore in the United States lately, […] the shelves and new-release tables resemble group exhibitions.”
Cover design by Rodrigo Corral Studio. (A 2025 Favorite Book Cover here on Foreword, too.)
The recent shift from color fields and geometric abstraction to gestural figuration on book covers may reflect a broader craving for embodiment and physical presence — proof, in other words, of the artist’s hand and subjectivity in the era of the internet. Just as painting implies time, so does the novel, demanding sustained attention to both write and to read. It’s a tension that undermines the forces driving creation and consumption in the service of ever-increasing profit margins, both in the art market and the publishing industry.
— Tara Anne Dalbow, Hyperallergic
Cover design by Jaya Miceli.
Regular readers will know this isn’t a new thing, but I think the post — whose author is much more likely to be familiar with social media and bigger-picture trends than I am — is correct in the notion that, “the painted cover seemingly aligns the book with an art-historical lineage rather than the curation of an algorithmic feed.”
Aside from misspelling Jaya Miceli’s name, there’s lots of good stuff in the article. Take a look.
Note: I somehow hadn’t seen I Am You before, and am disappointed to have missed this great cover … that would absolutely have been in running for the 2025 Favorite Book Covers. Apologies.
Speaking of great book design: Jenny Volvovski
In 2012, Jenny Volvovski “really wanted to design book covers but didn’t have any book cover work. So I hired myself to redesign my personal library.” An interesting approach, to be sure:
That, as it turns out, has worked very well for her — she’s now amongst the elite:
Cover design by Jenny Volvovski. Was a finalist — but not selected — for my 2025 Favorite Book Covers.
“Yeah,” I hear you say, “but that’s only a runner-up.” Okay:
Cover design by Jenny Volvovski. One of my 2025 Favorite Book Covers.
In addition to the above, Beethoven, The Novel and the Blank, and The Master of Contradictions are among several that fall into the outstanding category; see many more in the “published” section of her website.
Fantastic early 20th-century movie posters (and more)
Eric Rohman wasn’t a name I was familiar with — he’s Swedish, so I suppose there’s an excuse — but the great design transcends not only the language barrier but the years, as well:
Poster design by Eric Rohman, 1918.
“Eric Rohman (1891–1949) was born in Nyköping and grew up in Helsingborg. He was one of the very few people in Sweden who could make a living by only producing posters. He produced about 7,000 works, according to his own estimate.
“Rohman’s brother was the manager of one of the big cinema chains and the need for posters was great. Rohman usually worked with few colors and did not spend much time on details, he had a great ability to quickly pick out the essentials.”
Poster design by Eric Rohman, 1917.
From Laurel and Hardy and Charlie Chaplin to Ingrid Bergman and Greta Garbo, this online archive is both inspirational and sure to bring a smile to your face.
When you’re done, the site, Artvee, has countless more from artists worldwide, in hi-res where possible, all in the public domain. A fantastic resource.
Special bonus #1: Quentin Blake, at 93, continues to advocate “for a discipline that’s lacked attention and prestige for far too long,” CreativeBoom writes.
Photograph courtesy of CreativeBoom.
The master illustrator of Roald Dahl’s Matilda, The BFG, and around 500 more instantly-recognizable titles has been working on a singular goal for more than three decades; the fruit of his labor, The Quentin Blake Centre for Illustration, “the world’s largest permanent public space dedicated to illustration,” opens its doors in Clerkenwell, London, this summer.
One of the famous cockatoos gifted to the world by Quentin Blake.
Update, 6 June 2026:Dezeen has a great article on both the Center and its facility: “The site, known as New River Head, was once the end of an artificial river created in the early 1600s to channel drinking water into London,” they write.
Facility by Tim Ronalds Architects. Photograph courtesy of Dezeen.
“Many of the structures on the site were created as part of the endeavour to pump this water to people’s houses. The oldest of these was the base of a windmill dating back to 1707, which stands at the entrance to the museum’s site and has been converted into a gallery space for temporary exhibitions.” Check it out.
This month’s new fonts
CreativeBoom‘s monthly feature has twelve choices, a couple of which I’d love to have the opportunity to use.
Ardent, by Typofounderie
Ardent, by Typofonderie.
“Jean François Porchez began designing Ardent in January 2021, starting from his earlier Le Monde Journal and asking what that typeface would need to become to serve modern screen reading. The answer involved drawing wider letterforms and more open counterforms, following the research of Ladislas Mandel and Matthew Carter on legibility and apparent size. Serifs in the italics (an unusual, but actually sensible choice) serve readability on screen, rather than print conventions. […]
Ardent’s ”angular counters,” as they call them, do stand out.
“More broadly, the font draws on a rich historical lineage: Elzevirs, Albertus, Vendôme, Meridien, even Verdana. Angular and triangular shapes sit alongside round terminals and both bracketed and unbracketed serifs, creating what Jean describes as a typeface that reveals subtle contrasts invisible at small sizes but gives graphic projects a distinct identity at large ones.”
Have to emphasize: unlike my usual selections, this is aimed at screens, not the printed page. Still, good stuff.
Tareco, by Dalton Maag
Tareco, by Dalton Maag.
“Deiverson Ribeiro’s pulled off something a bit special here. Developed at Dalton Maag, Tareco takes the beloved sweet treat of the same name as its starting point. This is not a polite, restrained script, but one with a loud, confident personality. Thick, confident strokes and precise details give these letterforms a jazz-like syncopation: a sense of forward propulsion and playful energy that helps to bring designs to life on the page.”
And seriously: who doesn’t love a biscuit?
Software woes, rants and hopes
Part One: Adobe
I’ve not had much goodto say about Adobe recently, I’ll admit. I’m also not thrilled to be back, bemoaning something else. It’s a shame they’ve given me another reason to.
Recently, I’ve noticed that in Photoshop, the “canvas size” dialog (among others) has looked … well, off. Windows-like, even, which is most assuredly not a compliment. But on a more fundamental level, it’s broken — it has, to use the parlance, lost its focus sequence: the standard workflow of open dialog, type value, tab, type, enter (no mousing required) is just gone. Each value has to be manually selected and entered, a much more arduous process — it’s additional movement, clicks, and time unnecessarily added.
The old interface is on the left, “new” on the right. Screenshot courtesy of Unsung.
You can bet I’m not the only one to have noticed.
Marcin Wichary, at the excellent Unsung:
I generally avoid such harsh labels on this blog, but: this is awful work.
I’m angry. (Clearly.) We should all be angry in the face of stuff like this. This is how people get fed up with software – because it feels unstable and deteriorates on its own without needing to.
I know I brought up that an existing power user base can be a huge pain in the ass, and I am a decades-old Photoshop power user. But this is different than other examples where the product needs or at least wants to evolve past its core audience or toward a different market. For Photoshop here, nothing I see indicates any change in course or clientele – and yet all of these good moments in UI that used to help me out no longer exist.
Plus, all those transgressions are solved problems. Those issues are not buried in pages of heavily litigated patents, or in seven collective brains of world-class interface designers whose driveways are presently occupied by cash-filled trucks sent over by frontier companies. This isn’t some long lost art that requires archaeologists to decipher. This feels like carelessness and laziness in face of basic UI engineering; in a likely internally-motivated effort to refresh the interface, the team threw an entire nursery worth of babies [out] with the bathwater.
— Marcin Wichary, Unsung
“It’s not just about disservice to craft. It’s not even about disrespect for change management, trivialization of institutional memory, and disinvestment in quality assurance. This isn’t only […] sloppy coding,“ he continues. “This is a failure of imagination.”
I have been using Photoshop since John Sculley was the CEO of Apple.Longtime users can be brutally resistant to change, but I would like to think that I remain open-minded. One can’t have used Photoshop for more than three decades without having adapted to change and found utility in the new features Adobe has added over the years. I’ve used generative fill. I’ve used AI-enhanced edge detection. I’m hip and with it.
But, as Wichary detected, what Adobe is doing with the Modern User Interface is not to make a new, improved, modern interface. Adobe’s own description gives it away: It’s a hammering of all of Adobe’s user interfaces so they look alike, across Creative Cloud. It’s a “multi-platform design system,” which means in addition to Adobe being committed to “modernizing” Photoshop by making it look like Premiere, it’s also going to make it look the same on the Mac as Windows.
Already, Photoshop desperately wants to run in single-window mode, with multiple documents opening in a single uberwindow—in other words, the stink of Windows. Fortunately, you can turn that feature off, and I have. […]
That all said, of course, this decision could benefit Photoshop users, because Adobe could put in the work to make the app better while also fulfilling its own corporate goals of homogeneity.
Ha ha ha. Sorry. I tried to write that with a straight face.
If you do a little poking around in Adobe’s application bundles, a key reason for the jankiness of these user interfaces becomes apparent: it is because they are little webpages. These dialog boxes are HTML files that reference a chunky CSS file and oodles of JavaScript […].
This is loathsome.
There are people out there who will insist it is unfair to blame the tools and that bad user interfaces can be built in entirely native languages, too, which is true. Also, Adobe’s interface has always been unique and not quite at home on either MacOS or Windows. Maybe it really is possible to build a web app that feels platform native. But I have never used one — not once — and for this mess to be increasingly used in the industry-standard professional suite of creative tools is maddening.
— Nick Heer, Pixel Envy
John Gruber, on Daring Fireball, notes that, “The before-and-after screenshots look like examples from a lecture on user interface design — if you swap them around make the new ones ‘before’ and the old ones ‘after’. Better balance, better focus behavior, appropriate platform-native typography.”
Michael Tsai has a post on the whole “conversation” if you’d like to get a sense of just how many people are upset; for what it’s worth, it includes a comment from Adobe’s “Lead Scientist” for user interface: “These sharp edges are acknowledged, and we are working on them.” I’m sure I’m not the only one who doesn’t entirely trust their reassurances.
Wichary did provide a solution, however temporary: turn off the interface “improvements.” There’s an option buried in the settings:
Uncheck the box, then note the last line.
Part Two: Folklore
The hope part: Gruber followed up with a thought-provoking piece called, “Software as the Product of Obsession Times Voice.” He reminds us of a famous quote from Walt Disney — “We don’t make movies to make money; we make money to make more movies” — and that it applies to software development, especially for independents. To wit:
It feels like the world of software is bifurcating quality-wise. This whole thing about Adobe’s new craptacular “modern” UI language (a.k.a. “Spectrum”) exemplifies one side of that bifurcation — the bad-and-getting-worse side. Software that is the product not just of an ignorance of long-established principles of interaction design, but of a willful disdain for those principles. What Adobe is now shipping is just inexplicably bad UI, ignoring literally decades of great work and long-mastered concepts — a lot of which work was pioneered by Adobe itself!
— John Gruber, Daring Fireball
He goes on to discuss that what’s expected from Apple is “insanely great,” and that Adobe is failing so hard precisely becausethey’re Adobe and know better. He also mentions a concept known as software brain — read the post to get that — but, in a nutshell, it’s not about the quality of the software. It’s about the quality of the profits. Quelle surprise.
However, “[t]he other side of the software fork is not deserted. It’s just populated, more than ever, by the products of small independent developers who obsess, first and foremost, over quality and artistic vision.”
Which leads us to Folklore. Mentioned on Upgrade’s Apple 50th anniversary podcast episode, Folklore is a list of 123 great stories from Apple’s early days, from when Apple was that company obsessing, first and foremost, over quality and artistic vision.
Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.
— Margaret Mead
Special bonus #2: Taken, a single webpage that shows just how much information you share by … visiting a webpage. Sigh.
Special bonus #3: Boring, an interactive essay arguing that some of the items mentioned above have, in fact, gone too far — and that forces are at work to redress. Speaking of hope: let’s do that.
BMW Alpina
So, it’s finally happened: after what seems like forever — including severalmentions here on Foreword — we’ve now seen where BMW is going to take the Alpina brand.
I’m both relieved and excited: it could be very cool.
Image courtesy of BMW.
Unlike BMW M, which is focused on sport, BMW Alpina will be focused on speed. Mile-munching, cross-continent stuff. (If you’re a Mercedes fan, think closer to Maybach than AMG — or maybe an amalgamation of both.) “[T]he understated character of ALPINA fits the way wealthy buyers are spending now,” writes BMW Blog. “That is the market BMW is aiming at — not M buyers, not 7 Series buyers, but the segment above both.”
“An ALPINA is for connoisseurs, meaning people that love driving, they like driving fast, but they don’t want to communicate to the outside world that they bought a race car,” said BMW Group Chief Designer Adrian van Hooydonk. “That would be an M customer. And therefore we thought that is the position, that is the opportunity for ALPINA.”
Image courtesy of BMW.
Which makes sense. It’s what Alpina always stood for: faster than standard models, more luxurious than M models. Exclusive and expensive.
Four images above courtesy of BMW Blog.
There’s nothing about this I don’t like. It’s a great design in a great color with a fantastic interior. Indeed, it’s a great presentation, and looks like a great place to park yourself for hours on end while scenery rips by.
Of course, not all is perfect: it’s only a “vision.” BMW’s concept cars tend to get watered down fairly extensively, and this one’s no exception; the first model isn’t even going to be a coupé but rather a modified 7-series sedan. They’ll be both gas — ahem, petrol — and electric, and will cost Bentley money.
The concept on stage at the 2026 Concorso d’Eleganza Villa d’Este. Image courtesy of BMW Blog.
Alpina has always been the car for people who found M too loud and Rolls-Royce too theatrical. The buyer who knew what a it was and didn’t need anyone else to. I’m excited that Alpina is going to, thankfully, continue to represent that — and seemingly, successfully transition to a new era under direct BMW control.
“NASA has released a tranche of 12,000 photos taken during the historic voyage that were shot on a combination of the Nikon D5 SLR, Nikon Z9 mirrorless, and iPhone 17 cameras that the Artemis crew took with them,” PetaPixelnotes in a post showing some of their favorites. (This is Colossal has a post of their favorites, as well.)
The timeline is an interactive way to scroll through photos from the mission — but pinned to NASA’s official schedule. Green also explains something I was wondering, which is why there are no credits on the photos: “the four astronauts together agreed that they did not want credit for any photos taken on the mission. I’m somewhat conflicted about this because this project is about giving as much context as possible, but of course there is also something very beautiful about not wanting to take individual credit for something that was the result of so much collaboration.”
Hat tipped to all of that. A month later, and the excitement is still palpable.
Space #2: The Milky Way
“Night at the Remarkables.” Photograph by Tom Rae.
The 2026 Milky Way Photographer of the Year winning images have been announced, and they’re stunning. “Every year, this collection reminds us that photographing the Milky Way is not only about technique or planning. It is about curiosity, patience, and the desire to experience the night sky in places where it still feels wild,” says Dan Zafra, editor of Capture the Atlas.
“Perseid Meteors Over Durdle Door.” Photograph by Josh Dury.
The Matterhorn, the summer arch (left), the Gegenschein (center), and the winter arm of the Milky Way (right). Photograph by Angel Fux.
From high up in the Alps, a stacked image of events that took place in one night, taken from one location by one photographer, with no AI involved: a celestial phenomenon that has never been captured in this exact way before. Awesome. PetaPixel has the details.
And Finally: Lightning Bugs, Indeed
“Presence,” Australia. Photograph by JJ.
PetaPixelbrings us the story of JJ, who went on a mission to capture lightning sprites, an elusive-yet-beautiful item — and got something else, too.
“Those little fireflies reminded me of why I do this in the first place. It reminded me that it wasn’t about getting something better; it was about fully appreciating things there in the moment. And this is why I named the image ‘Presence.’”
Special bonus #4: Engagement with the arts slows aging!
“[R]esearchers believe that a significant part of why engaging with the arts slows biological aging is the diverse range of visual, sensory, and physical stimuli associated with art, as well as the social interactions that often accompany it,” PetaPixel notes.
“The new findings go much farther than that, though: they also found evidence that artistic engagement can have roughly the same health benefits as physical exercise. This is a huge deal, especially for those in middle- and late-age groups who may find strenuous physical exercise too difficult.”
So, be glad: taking the time to read Foreword today may have had benefits beyond entertainment. Thanks for visiting.
We’re setting into our third snow of the season here in Georgia, an extraordinary event even in a world where “normal” doesn’t seem to happen all that often any more. Thankfully, there are still gems, waiting to be discovered. Hopefully you’ll find several in the links below.
Note: The site was offline for several hours mid-month due entirely to my mismanaging an update; the backups took a minute and didn’t restore the plug-ins, so it wound up being rough around the edges for a couple of days. If you visited — or tried to — during that time, apologies.
Favorite book covers of 2025, and more
If you’ve not seen, set aside a few minutes to enjoy:
LitHub has posted a summary of the last decade of their favorites, too. Whew!
Cover design by Alicia Tatone.
Special bonus #1:Our Culture has a feature on seven book designers to watch in 2026. None will be a surprise to regular readers, although Alicia Tatone hasn’t been highlighted here as much as she deserves (she had three cover designs, including Dusk, in the runners-up folder for my ’25 favorites, but didn’t appear in the final list).
Steven Heller’s column in PRINT is always fantastic, but some introduce designers more of us should know by name — this time, Roy Kuhlman:
Cover design by Roy Kulhman.
“He designed almost exclusively for the edgy indie Grove Press, defining its list of literary, critical, philosophical and politically radical nonfiction titles,” Heller writes, discussing a new retrospective (that he wrote the introduction for):
Many of his abstractions tested the reader’s perception. His lexicon of kinetic, morphing shapes was usually rendered in flat colors with painterly and collage randomness. They could stand on their own. But usually, to make them functional, he used simple sans serif or elegant classic serif typefaces; fitting the abstract nature of his manner, he’d frequently draw or paint hand-scrawled titles and subsidiary texts. Much of his work employed two or three colors, as opposed to four-color process — and he was more than adept with limitations.
Speaking of CreativeBoom, their regular feature on new typefaces has several that I like. Let’s start with the elegant Appeal, by new foundry We Type:
Next up, the old-style, almost-evokes-needlepoint Bárur, by MNDT Type:
Another new foundry, Designomatt, brings us the neat and “unpretentiously functional” Stróc:
The last to highlight is probably my favorite of the bunch, this cool and well-executed script called Pennline, from The Northern Block. It’s a “meticulous resurrection of Bulletin — a script first cast in 1899 by Philadelphia’s Keystone Type Foundry — demonstrat[ing] how historical preservation and contemporary utility can coexist when approached with respect and imagination.”
It’s Nice That has a great feature on the new — actually, newly-revisited — Faber Edition titles, with their primarily type-driven cover designs:
“In an industry that can often be focused on newness, Faber Editions is a great reminder of the groundbreaking literature that’s come before us, and a clear indicator of the importance of the artwork the words sit within,” writes Olivia Hingley.
Cover design by Bill Bragg.
Faber is a UK publisher, so while these covers could be excellent because they’re British — see several examples of the US vs. UK titles in the favorites post — I’m just going to call the style interesting, the “look” of the complete series compelling, and the resulting work excellent. Read on.
Special bonus #2: “The graphic trends you’ll want to bookmark for 2026,” also from It’s Nice That. In short: lo-fi, anti-trends continue:
In other words, if AI struggles with it — if it’s authentic — it could be a winner. See the specifics.
Special bonus #3: “AI isn’t the enemy. Our lack of nuance is,” Liz Seabrook writes at CreativeBoom. “The most powerful response is being more human.”
Life in ’26: DDOS? Or Just Velocity?
A few days apart, two new essays caught my attention and wound up feeling relevant enough — significant enough — that I wanted to share. They’re new takes on where we’re at, or, the specifics of “how.”
The first is from new-to-me author Joan Westenberg, discussing a computer term called the Distributed Denial of Service (DDOS) attack:
[The] attack works by exhausting resources. It doesn’t need to be clever. It just needs to be overwhelming. The target’s defenses are simply overrun. The server can’t distinguish between legitimate requests and attack traffic because, in a sense, all the traffic is legitimate. The attack succeeds when the system has spent so much energy processing requests that it can no longer serve its actual function.
— Joan Westenberg, “The Discourse is a DDOS”
Does that sound like it might apply to life in the ’Twenties? Yeah.
The old media ecosystem had gatekeepers, and those gatekeepers were often stupid or corrupt, but at least the stupidity and corruption were bounded. There were only so many column inches in the New York Times, only so many minutes of evening news. A finite supply of attention-worthy items existed, and someone had to decide which ones made the cut. That selection process was biased and imperfect, but it performed an important function: it told you, implicitly, that you didn’t have to have an opinion about everything. Most things that happened in the world weren’t important enough to make it into your awareness at all. Local political disputes in New South Wales? Nobody in Washington DC gave a [crap], and vice-versa. This was as close to optimal as we’ve ever got.
But the gatekeeping function has now been distributed across millions of individual users, each of whom can boost any piece of content into viral prominence if it happens to resonate with the right combination of tribal anxieties and engagement incentives. The feed is infinite, and every slot in the feed is optimized to make you feel something strongly enough that you’ll engage with it. Outrage works, and so does fear. Disgust works, and righteousness really[…] works. Nuance and careful reasoning don’t work at all, because by the time you’ve finished a thought that begins with “Well, it’s complicated…” someone else has already posted a much simpler take that makes people feel validated, and the algorithm has moved on.
Authority used to be the organizing principle of information, and thus the media. You earned attention by being right, by being first in discovery, or by being big enough to be the default. That world is gone. The new and current organizing principle of information is velocity.
What matters now is how fast something moves through the network: how quickly it is clicked, shared, quoted, replied to, remixed, and replaced. In a system tuned for speed, authority is ornamental. The network rewards motion first and judgment later, if ever. Perhaps that’s why you feel you can’t discern between truths, half-truths, and lies.
— Om Malik, “Velocity Is the New Authority. Here’s Why.”
Westenberg has a suggestion I wholeheartedly recommend:
What I do know is that the feeling of being overwhelmed, of never being able to keep up, of having strong opinions about everything and confident understanding of nothing, is not a personal failing. It’s a predictable response to an impossible situation. Your brain is being DDoS’d, and the fact that you’re struggling to think clearly under that onslaught is evidence that your brain is working normally. The servers aren’t broken. They’re overloaded. And until we figure out how to reduce the load or increase the bandwidth, the best any of us can do is recognize what’s happening and try, when possible, to step away from the flood long enough to do some actual thinking.— Joan Westenberg, “The Discourse is a DDOS”
“Find one topic,” she says, and start there. Get with experts, get evidence, get uncomfortable, actually get into it … but just get into that one.
And stay true to the idea that it shouldn’t — can’t — get away from you.
I get some feedback for my lack of participation in social media. I don’t hate social media; if anything, the past few weeks of mayhem organized resistance in Minneapolis proves it has a place. But I long ago heeded advice to narrow my focus. Instead of burying my head in the sand — tempting though it may be at times — I choose to concentrate on those things that a) really hold interest and b) things I actually want to be part of my life.
Both of these essays summarize the situation well, and both offer insights on how we got here. Westenberg’s offers good advice. When you have a spare few minutes, readboth.
Let’s please turn to something that the Internet does right.
Whenever I worry about where the Internet is headed, I remember that this example of the collective generosity and goodness of people still exists. There are so many folks just working away, every day, to make something good and valuable for strangers out there, simply from the goodness of their hearts. They have no way of ever knowing who they’ve helped. But they believe in the simple power of doing a little bit of good using some of the most basic technologies of the internet.
— Anil Dash, “Wikipedia At 25: What The Web Can Be”
“When Wikipedia launched 25 years ago today, I heard about it almost immediately, because the Internet was small back then, and I thought ‘Well… good luck to those guys,’” Dash writes.1I, too, remember those days of a small Internet — not a young person anymore. While I miss the community it felt like, the resources available today, of which Wiki might be at the fore, are without parallel. But it’s grown into something something amazing: the encyclopedia that’s free in every sense of the word.
Like countless others, I value being a contributor, in an incredibly small way, to the collective effort that is Wikipedia. Indeed, editors “span continents, professions and motivations,” a CreativeBoom article writes. “Together, their stories underline that, even in an age of AI, knowledge is still human and it still needs humans.”
“The site is still amongst the most popular sites on the web,” Dash agrees. “[B]igger than almost every commercial website or app that has ever existed. There’s never been a single ad promoting it. It has unlocked trillions of dollars in value for the business world, and unmeasurable educational value for multiple generations of children.”
Of course, all is not perfect. Like Universities, DEI, and whatever else, Wikipedia has become a target; Grokipedia, for instance, exists specifically to undermine Wiki’s centrality and success. (And, it’s important to note, Groki used Wiki as a basis … because it’s open and freely available. No hypocrisy.)
In fact, so many rely on Wikipedia that access has become a thing. Luckily, some large enterprise users of the site have recognized that the trillions they’ve earned as a result of having access to Wiki’s collective knowledge is worth paying for:
[T]he Wikimedia Foundation announced API access deals with Microsoft, Meta, Amazon, Perplexity, and Mistral AI, expanding its effort to get major tech companies to pay for high-volume API access to Wikipedia content, which these companies use to train AI models like Microsoft Copilot and ChatGPT. […] In April 2025, the foundation reported that bandwidth used for downloading multimedia content had grown 50 percent since January 2024, with bots accounting for 65 percent of the most expensive requests to core infrastructure despite making up just 35 percent of total pageviews.
Anil Dash best finishes up: “Twenty-five years later, all of the evidence has shown that they really have changed the world.” I couldn’t agree more.
Happy 25 to Wikipedia. May there be countless more.
Special bonus #4: In an excellent article, Ars calls 2025 “the year AI came back down to Earth.” And while we’re on the subject of excellence, Cory Doctorow’s essay for The Guardian applies.
Cory Doctorow in The Guardian.
Follow-up: BMW Alpina and Honda formalize logos
Alpina, for formerly-independent tuner — re-manufacturer, really — of BMW cars (and SUVs), has, as of the first of this year, officially become a division of BMW, akin to MINI or Rolls-Royce. With it comes a new logo.
Well, at least, this:
Conservative, cool, collected. Definitely part of a bigger corporation now.
[Alpina] recently entered into an agreement to be purchased by BMW itself, not unlike AMG becoming part of Mercedes-Benz; starting in 2026, they are scheduled to represent the middle ground between BMW and Rolls-Royce — hopefully continuing the comfort, power, and style. It seems that the new ground will be the upmarket models only (that is, no 3-series-based items, and possibly even no 5-series), so think of items $200,000 and up.
— Beautifully Briefed, June 2023
Here’s the old logo, for reference:
Alpina’s now-old logo: exhaust and crankshaft, sir. Nuthin’ like it.
And: they’re going to update the wheels!
Photo via BMW Blog.
As someone who’s become much more familiar with Alpina in the ten years I’ve owned BMWs, these wheels are iconic. Here’s the existing version, on one of my favorite pieces of unobtainium:
Photo via BMW Blog.
That’s a 2016 Aplina B4 BiTurbo Coupé, by the way. Not quite my favorite B3 Touring, but in either case, “drool” doesn’t quite cover it. (Neither were available in the States.)
Curious to see whether this is successful. Expectations are high.
Meanwhile, Honda initially said — and I reported, two years ago — that their new, slightly-retro “H” logo would be limited to electric cars. Of course, electric as a strategy has changed; they decided this month to make it official for all their cars.
Motorsports, too. Here’s their F1 engine with the new logo:
Photo via The Drive.
I love that both Honda and BMW are, at their heart, engineering companies.
Get the full story on BMW Alpina at Dezeen or BMW Blog (logo, wheels). Honda’s details are available at The Drive (logo, F1) or The Autopian, where you can enjoy some sharp commentary on Honda’s press release.
January photography round-up
2025 Architecture Master Prize
“Arbour House.” Photograph by Younes Bounhar (Interior Architecture).
I suppose it’s no surprise that an architectural photography selection tops this round-up, but the annual Architecture Photography MasterPrize highlights “compelling perspectives on buildings, cities, landscapes, and interior spaces, revealing the rich visual language of the built environment.”
In other words, “catnip.”
“Details (Series).” Photograph by Guanhong Chen (Other Architecture).“Details (Series).” Photograph by Guanhong Chen (Other Architecture).
There’s a huge variety of winning photographs, from professionals, amateurs, and students alike — all excellent. (They have awards for designs, firms, and products, as well.)
“Mustras,” Sardinia. Photograph by Barbara Corsico (Exterior Architecture).
Neither drone images nor folks who primarily post to social media usually get featured here, but these images of Greenland are both timely and excellent. This is Colossal has a great selection of items from photographer Dennis Lehtonen.
“From Alps to Andromeda.” Photograph by Tom Rae.
“My photography style is rooted in landscape and night photography, with an emphasis on atmosphere, scale, and a strong sense of place. I’m drawn to environments that feel raw, remote, and otherworldly,” Tom Rae relates to PetaPixel. Otherworldly feels just right: good stuff.
Society of Photographers’ Photographer of the Year 2025
Photograph by Terry Donnelly.
I also usually don’t cover documentary-style photography — see narrow focus, discussed above — but there were several documentary-style photographs in this set of award winners that were excellent, including this Medivac flight from the UK.
However — thankfully — there were more categories:
Photograph by Mark Scicluna.
It’s the winner in the “travel” category, because apparently they don’t have one called “dramatically soothing.” No matter the labelling, see the rest of the winners at PetaPixel or head over to the Society’s website for more.
Finally: some cats
Speaking of catnip, let’s close out with something that purrs — in soprano:
A “whimsical visual survey of the house cat in art and popular culture, exploring humanity’s enduring connection to one of our most loved animal companions.” Awesome. (Via This is Colossal.)
Have a great February, everyone!
1
I, too, remember those days of a small Internet — not a young person anymore. While I miss the community it felt like, the resources available today, of which Wiki might be at the fore, are without parallel. ↩︎
When it comes to describing 2025, “tumultuous” is probably an understatement.
So it’s probably not a surprise that, when looking at the hundred covers that make up this list, there’s a definite direction: favoring quality over quantity. Which is to say, consciously or not, I’ve tended to prefer designs where more is said with less.
Perhaps I’m striving for calm in a world that just … isn’t. Perhaps it’s my choice not to participate in social media and its race for likes, loves, and “latests.”1Publishers need to remember that not all of their customers select what to read based on influencers, what they see on Facebook, or by doomscrolling Instagram. Some of us are lifelong learners, have hundred or thousands of books, and discover by … reading. Real articles, by real people, on websites with those people’s real names on them. (Or even, occasionally, this thing called paper.) Perhaps it’s my advancing age — closing in on 60 now — and thus “old-fashioned” standards.
In fact, it could be said that I value not keeping up: I don’t want to highlight the trendy. I want to celebrate great talent, design that’s standout in its day but will still be great as time passes.
However, it’s appropriate to emphasize that these are my favorites. Others might say “best,” but I’ve been in this business long enough to know that there’s always another title you haven’t seen or read about, and I don’t want to disrespect any of the talented book designers whose work I didn’t see, and consequently didn’t feature. I’ve tried to include design credit where I could — many thanks to the folks who answered requests for that information — and wish to stress that any mistakes in the list below are mine.
Note: By request, titles starting with “The” are alphabetized correctly. Also, if you’re on Foreword’s main page, please click on the post title, above, to read this list. You’ll get larger covers for your viewing pleasure.
• • •
My favorite book cover of 2025
Cover design by Jack Smyth.
There was no question which of these hundred titles would take the title: this heavyweight, brought to us by Dublin-based Jack Smyth. Fellow cover designer Jaya Nicely, in LitHub‘s 2025 list, called it “tactile,” but it’s more than that — it’s downright visceral.
In fact, and indeed in direct contradiction to what I said in the intro, I’m celebrating something trendy: silhouettes are “in” — even overused — but I love this cover because I don’t recall ever seeing one more effectively implemented. Simultaneously hiding around the edge and using it to an advantage, our boxer (presumably the book’s subject, Nathaniel) looks poised to strike.
When combined with type and lines slightly off kilter, use of a fantastic orange, and aging and grain that ice the cake, this cover has it down.
2025 runners-up
Cover design by Paul Sahre, with illustration by David Plunkert.
A triumph of less-is-more illustration, with color and a title treatment that knows how compliment. The pressed or sprayed, aged-but-not, white and black are magnificent, while the rings stand out as the only use of “gold.” I love that the arm above the glove is just an outline.
Cover design by Kris Potter; photography by Laurent Tixador.
Photography seems almost passé these days, so its use requires something extra — here served up in spades. On the one hand, I want the boats on the horizon to have been removed, but on the other, it highlights the fraud within in a subtle, realize-after-the-fact way that’s awesome.
I have to say, too: this is about fifteen light years beyond the woman-folded-into-the-chair edition, one of those trends that needs to just stop.
Cover design by Arsh Raziuddin.
While it compliments Free, from 2022’s list, it’s more: more sophisticated, more of a story, and leaves you with more questions — and more likely that you’ll pick it up to get those answers.
Bonus points for the folded papers, the Albanian coat of arms, and planes “outside” the collage.
• • •
Other 2025 favorites, in alphabetical order
Cover design by David Fassett.
Christian titles so often reach for stereotype — something easily pigeonholed, almost like romance (for instance, unless of course I’m the one stereotyping). It’s often to the detriment of the subject: prematurely dooming the worthy, as it were.
This one very much rises above: the mountain/clouds, the spiral, the mixed and colored illustrations, and titles stacked at an angle (with slight em- or debossing?) are all exceptionally well done.
Riverhead/Penguin didn’t return a request for cover design info. Apologies.
The opposite of sinking beneath the waves: a beautiful pen-and-ink illustration, a color block of sea — or sky — heeling over at just the right angle, with the wonderful knock outs. Then there’s the hint-of-blue tail, the design equivalent of a spinnaker, standing out at the fore of a crowded race. Unmistakably awesome.
Cover design by Beth Steidle.
Simple without being simplistic, quiet while not quite, this one deserves that satisfying “thunk” that goes with a stamp of approval. (No cancellations allowed.)
Cover design by Tom Etherington.
Eye-catching is a cliché too far — but it’s definitely more than just a collection of shapes artfully arranged. Bonus points for the edge between red and star, the color choices, and title spacing.
Special bonus: continues the family look:
Cover design by Tom Etherington.
Fantastic.
Cover design by Arsh Raziuddin.
Neither a zig nor zag: the combo of pink, alligator skin, and “tears” is nigh-on perfect.
Algonquin Books didn’t return an inquiry for the cover design info — sorry. (If you know….)
The part-human-part-animal design tool is another of those overused items — except when it’s handled as well as it is here. The eyes are brilliant, the title treatment fun, and the colors standout. The subject, superficially, is not dissimilar to Alligator Tears, above, but the details, the design — and most certainly the text within — celebrate being different.
Cover design by Beth Steidle.
The cover-in-two-parts is another of those items potentially overused, but the repetition and title treatment — the r-l tie-up is fab — take this one to the next level. Bonus points for “a novel,” both less and so much more.
Cover design by Elena Giavaldi.
Another where the pressed/stamped ink works well — but the black on top of the almost-overstyled photo is the winner here, a photo that doesn’t say “South Dakota” in all the right ways.
Cover design and illustration by Elizabeth Story.
Never mind the awesome type, layout, and color — that illustration, or perhaps just the expression, does everything. A winner at first sight.
Cover design by Lauren Peters-Collaer.
Sometimes, it’s possible to be knocked askew awed by a simple idea.
Cover design by Linda Huang.
“My aye!”
(Yeah, yeah, the paper pattern and color, aged red and great brown outlines, type choices, and inclusion of Asian name seal, not to mention the geese, are all awesome too.)
Cover design by Monograph.
One is more — one-color, that is, with a perfect combination of blur and line, “shadow” and light, simplicity and complexity.
Not the only one-color item on this list, I’m happy to see.
Cover design by Luisa Dias.
From texture to type, photo to illustration, this is a cover that keeps giving the more the viewer keeps looking.
Cover design by Stephanie Ross, with art by Maria Guimaraes.
Cool illustration, cool idea — but it’s the use of color that earns this cover a spot here. The bright pink and various greens delight, as does the unusual-but-perfect background box for the title.
Cover design by Robin Bilardello.
“Guaranteed to augment your … life,” Vi thought.
Cover design by Rodrigo Corral Studio.
This is based on the Korean edition; the art came with the title. That said, this version uses that ah-ha moment that is title’s holding area, combined with infinitely better type — and gets serious compliments as a result.
Bonus points to the original designer for a painting that’s anything but postmodern.
Cover design and art by Na Kim.
Speaking of paintings, Na Kim’s often take center stage in her cover designs. Here, however, it’s everything. Fantastic!
Cover design by Thoman Colligan.
The two-pane cover gets overdone, no question, but like others on this list that rise above a trend, this cover triumphs in complimentary colors, type treatments, and spacing. Somehow soothing and attention-getting — an accomplishment.
Cover art by Scott Mescudi.
Every time one zoomed out to look at the collected — every single time — this persevered. Survived. Stayed. And then became incredibly successful.
(The cover, too.)
Cover design by Josh Durham.
Pictures running in time, complimented by the vertical title. (Rare and attention-demanding use of duotone here, too — nice.) Bonus points for the title and other text being subtly different colors.
Cover design by Adriana Tonello and Frances Digiovanni, Rodrigo Corral Studio. Illustration by Sophy Hollington.
Letterpress or inkblot? When it’s as much eye candy as this, do you care?
Cover design by Na Kim.
The contrast to Na’s Brother Brontë cover, above, couldn’t be more stark — yet this one, in its … well, stark simplicity, is no less accomplished.
Work that stands out, from one of the standouts.
Cover design by Chris Bentham.
Retro-tastic burst of style that takes something ostensibly text-only to another level.
Parenthetically, the author argues that we’re in the third “information crisis,” the first being invention of writing and the second the invention of the printing press. We survived those, maybe we can survive this…. A UK title I wish were readily available in the States. (The Brit Amazon wants you to buy it together with Cory Doctorow’s Enshittification, by the way. There‘s an afternoon’s reading.)
Cover design by Matt Dorfman.
Old-fashioned illustration, type arranged in a way that’s anything but old-fashioned, and great color choices: successful in a way that suggests simple in one of those “effortless ease” ways. (“Yo-Yo Ma just saws on a big fiddle” kind of thing.)
Cover design by Eli Mock.
“Missile Command meets The New York Times,” you say, in an effort to describe this design to someone who hasn’t seen it — something guaranteed to get a laugh. But here it is, in all its glory.
Cover design by Jaya Miceli, with art by Anna Brones.
Cookbooks are such a well-trod genre that it’s nearly impossible to break out of the pack and generate something not only truly original but truly excellent: a feast indeed.
Cover design by Jared Oriel.
Burnt matches have never made such sweet music.
Cover design by Darren Haggar; illustration by Cecilia Caristedt.
Poppy? Or a view into something deeper?
Cover design by June Park.
“What happens when your world goes sideways?” this cover — and book — ask. From illustration to style, basically … perfect.
Cover design by Janet Hansen.
Simple, practical, awesome. (“Chef’s kiss” is probably tacky, so I’ll avoid saying that.)
The author’s previous title, Lucky Dogs, was in my 2023 Favorites.
Cover design by Rodrigo Corral and Adriana Tonello.
At first glance, something we see all the time, from image to typestyle.
But then it goes on to ring the bell.
Cover design by Frances Digiovanni, Rodrigo Corral Studios.
The case where something like “a two-color triumph” feels not only cliché but a genuine undersell. The illustration, the color choices, the exquisitely shaky hand lettering — all beyond perfect, and that’s before we start talking about those strings. And the power that’s pulling on them.
Cover design by Jared Bartman.
The bear feels like something generated by bad AI, or even a suit; as it turns out, we don’t care. Bright, funny, and fun in just the right way. (I do wish they’d kept the single quotes proper English uses.)
Cover design by Adriana Tonello.
On the one hand, the opposite of “bright, funny and fun” — and yet, one the other, somehow, not.
Cover design by Maddy Angstreich.
I swore, possibly in public, that cropped classical paintings is something we should move on from in book design.
Clearly, I was wrong.
Cover design and illustration by Micaela Alcaino.
One of the few times in recent memory that something so original was so funny, so satisfying, and such a standout design … on any shelf.
(One of those covers that would work well as a print, I think.)
Cover design by Anna Morrison.
The triumph of the simple.
Cover design by Keith Kayes, with art by Jose David Morales.
“Sometimes a new author will sidle up and whisper in your ear, and sometimes she’ll grab you by the neck,” one of this book’s blurbs reads. The design of Immemorial, above, is the former. This design is very much the latter — completely and delightfully.
Ballantine’s contact page is a 404 error — I kid you not — so the designer remains anonymous.
Power, grace, and color — and, of course, the title treatment. A cover that was never in danger of losing its groove. (Bonus points for the pink “earring.”)
Cover design by Matt Dorfman.
Simplicity can mask death depth.
Special bonus: related brilliance, from 2022:
Cover design by Matt Dorfman.Cover design by Nick Misani.
Illustration and lettering triumph for this classic title, slightly reminiscent of the Farmer’s Almanac I remember from my youth (in the most complimentary way), with appropriately-English “characters” for the UK edition.
Cover design by Katy Homans.
I mentioned above that for photographs to work today, they have to have that something that grabs and won’t let go. This one does.
Cover design by Arsh Raziuddin.
Next-level collection of long views both together with and simultaneously separated by brilliant use color. Bonus points for the repetition in author and subtitle.
Cover design by La Boca.
Gets the award for “most zany,” in the best possible way: “a scream,” indeed.
Cover design by Stephen Brayda.
Speaking of awards, let’s have one for “soothing.” The dotted path is brilliant and colors awesome. (And while it’s not part of the design, it’s impossible not to appreciate that subtitle.)
Cover design and art by Alex Merto.
Colorful, original, retro-yet-not — with that tiger. I want to make jokes about how this cover so very well illuminates, but really, I just want to go read it. Awesome.
Cover design by Beth Steidle, with art by Uzo Njoku.
I’m not a fan of the text-around-the-edge trend — I get it, it’s a framing device, but, suddenly it was everywhere, too much, all at once.
Once in a while, however, it’s done so well that greatness must be acknowledged. Weaving the title text into the pattern helps, as does, of course, the fantastic art.
Cover design by Tyler Comrie.
I had the UK version of this in last year’s list — but the paperback, out this year, gives me an excuse to not only highlight the US version, but the associated redesigned back titles:
Cover designs by Tyler Comrie.
I do not believe “brilliant” is resorting to cliché.
Cover design by Grace Han.
The second one-color cover on this list, whose simplicity belies the story within. (Lauren Peters-Collaer, on LitHub‘s “best of” list, describes it as “fractured,” which I love — along with the “minor Black artist” being named Wyeth.)
Cover design by Jaya Miceli.
“I forgot the blueprints parsley!”
Awesome stuff: the lips being the only thing on her face, the dog’s expression, the rough sketch style, the way the title stands out, um … okay, everything.
Cover design by Matt Broughton, with art by Katrien de Blauwer.
As mentioned, the two-pane cover has become a thing; this one breaks out not only with the black-and-white photos (possibly a subtle duotone) and a bright title in a great typeface (Herbus, by OTT) but cropping on the bottom photo that causes a double-take, and that hint — just a hint — of just-sank in the top photo. Good stuff.
Much stronger without the quotes fouling the water, by the way. The tug-of-war between design and marketing sometimes gets makes ugly.
Cover design by Jenny Volvovski.
Brilliantly simple stand-out: nest and enjoy.
Cover design by Arsh Raziuddin.
A fantastic example of a photograph plus — that illustration, those lines, that green, those stars. (And, of course, the eyes.)
Cover design by Chris Bentham.
This UK cover expresses the arrogance — the cockiness — while bringing forth all of the disjointedness and even kleptocracy. Timely and compelling.
Cover design by Matt Dorfman.
I like the design of this series — the title holding area (literally) is unusual enough to catch attention on today’s shelves socials — but the colors and treatment on this title, specifically, are the most pleasing.
Cover design by Erik Carter.
A brilliant idea, perfectly fulfilling the idea of communicating everything needed with one simple concept. (Alas, since putting this aside — the candidates for this list are gathered throughout the year — it’s gained splashy “ketchup” and what can only be described as “cheese.” Boo.)
Special bonus: the UK version:
Cover design by Jack Smyth.
No less brilliant — yet, as covers from the “right” side of the pond often are, more sophisticated.
Cover design by Janet Hansen, with art by Ahmad Sabbagh.
Okay, let’s revisit the text describing the previous title.
To quote Jason Kottke: “The US cover, like many American things, is somewhat less subtle & elegant.” In this specific instance, however, I have to disagree: sometimes, more is more.
Here, the US version brings a power to the table that US versions often struggle with; a “a few strokes of the pen” can wield enormous strength — often too much — and thought, talent, and consideration are appreciated. This is all of those.
Cover design by Claire Sullivan, with art by Alex Eckman Lawn.
“Not for the faint of heart,” one of the blurbs for this title reads — and applies equally well to the cover, which communicates “lovely” and “grotesque” in equal measure. (The UK version trendily plays up the lighter approach.)
Cover design by Jaya Nicely, with art by Rokas Aleliunas.
A “brilliant, funny, unsettling” illustration, too. (Love the green, by the way.)
Cover design by Devon Manney.
“From screening to aging, suggestion to content, color to style, this one, put simply, gets everything right,” I said on Spine in October’s University Press Coverage column — but when it was highlighted in October’s Beautifully Briefed, here on Foreword, I added, “One could argue that this cover — and title — could work well even if the word “climate” was removed.”
Cover design by David Eckersall.
“Tatreez, meaning ‘embroidery’ in Arabic, is used to refer to the traditional style of embroidery practiced in Palestine and Palestinian diaspora communities. The contemporary form of tatreez is often dated back to the 19th century. The style of cross-stitch embroidery called fallaḥi has been practiced amongst Arab communities in the Mediterranean for centuries,” Wikipedia notes. (NY’s Met Museum has more.)
Beautifully applied.
Special bonus: see also:
Cover design by Chantal Jahchan.
Yeah.
Cover design by Janet Hansen.
Pan, panic, or just surprise? No matter the expression, a delightful way to break all of the rules. (Bonus points for the knee to the nose.)
With apologies, I don’t know the designer for this cover.
A disgraced comedian-turned-politician is recruited by the CIA — a grainy prospect that you wouldn’t expect to look like this.
Um, yes.
(“This title is absolutely about Bolrovia,” he added.)
Cover design by Emily Mahon.
Less chess and more Cold War, another where a powerful, simple idea triumphs. The orange and the hand-lettering deserve special praise, as well.
Cover design by Luke Bird.
From expression to ears, brings new delight to deer-in-the … highlights.
Rutgers University Press did not return a request for cover design information.
“From the woodcut hall of fame, we have this,” I wrote in Spine‘s November column.
(I’m sad Rutgers never returns emails, because this artist deserves named credit. If you know….)
Cover design by Ella Laytham.
That “Essays” is printed in little tiny pink stamps is merely the kicker: awesomeness, defined.
Cover design by Lauren Peters-Collaer.
Might I have mentioned that silhouettes are overused, even trendy? And that photographs are passé? Not here.
Like The Slip, this title goes out of its way to do something different, something appreciated, with the cutout. Combined with a great photo and grainy sky, it steps out of line and requires your attention.
Cover design by Lauren Peters-Collaer.
“Deadpan wit” could be used to describe more than the contents: simultaneously simple and simply brilliant.
A cheat here: the green version is the hardcover from 2024; the paperback, from November ’25, is orange with a pink chair — and not quite as good.
Cover design by Sarah Schulte.
“A controversial Swahili classic — banned on publication — translated into English, published by Yale, and represented with a cover best described as a gift. A design that belongs in every ‘best of’ list,” I said in the inaugural column for Spine.
So added.
Cover design by Josh Durham.
Close-ups of women’s lips is another trend I’ve been avoiding — except when it positively drips with photographic brilliance: millennial pink, taken to the next level. (Once again, a cover measurably better without the detritus rytuałły added by the publicity department.)
Cover design by Beth Steidle.
I don’t know whether Beth did the art for this — presumably — but that art, together with the title treatment, add up to one of those “wow” covers instantly added to the list of year’s best.
Cover design by Holly Battle.
A “doting grandmother and vicious crime matriarch”: raven mad. This UK cover gets points for illustration style, type style, and, of course, just the right dose of splatter.
Cover design by Jared Bartman.
“The bull’s expression,” he said.
“The no bulls*** expression of nature,” she retorted.
Cover design by Jamie Keener.
Never mind the huge negative space: it’s the eyes. (Okay, it’s also the unlikely collection — collision? — of leopard and printer. Plus the loose page/quote. Plus the background color. But still.)
Cover design by Rodrigo Corral.
Heroin addiction, AIDS, French doctors, family drama: how do you weave that together into a compelling cover? Well, this.
Cover design by Gabriele Wilson; collage by Arsh Raziuddin.
“Fragmented colonialism in Africa, illustrated incredibly well,” I said in October’s Spine column — then went on to do both designers a disservice by failing to include the appropriate credit. Sheesh. (Apologies.)
Cover design by Farina Yasmin.
The US vs. UK “style” has been mentioned, well, possibly too much. Sorry.
But.
Here’s a great example of two great covers — both where all eyes are very much on the performer’s … uh, performance — yet in remarkably different ways.
Cover design by Julia Connolly; photograph by Sandra Casado.
Even though this kicks serious a**, in this case (and to continue the back-and-forth), I don’t think the US version is any less sophisticated.
Cover design by Nicole Caputo.
Beautiful illustration, beautiful type treatment; it’s something that could almost be described as “soothing.”
(With the possible exception of the text within.)
Cover design by Steve Attardo.
An awesome illustration against one of the year’s creamiest backgrounds, yes, but absolutely one of the year’s best title type treatments.
“‘Ebullient’ is used in the description of this title, and quite frankly I can’t think of a better word to describe this text-only treatment: superlative work.
“(In Miceli’s library, this would be shelved with Milk Fed and Joy of Consent instead of Big Swiss and Victorian Psycho — but it’s telling that she’s great at both styles.)”
Special bonus: another from that post:
Cover design by Issac Morris.
“The ayes have it,” I quipped. “Also, both the title type and color choices are out of this world. (Not sorry.)”
Cover design by Jack Smyth.
The word “acerbic” is used several times to describe this tile, but the UK cover just isn’t — the type and treatment are wonderful, and the surrogate egg is perfect.
Special bonus: the US version, which received a good deal of praise:
Cover design by Tyler Comrie.Cover design by Dana Li.
As mentioned on And I’ll Take Out Your Eyes, the part-human, part animal thing could possibly be described as “overdone.”
Here, though, it’s a home run wrapped in a night out: from colors to drips, pose to poise. Awesome.
Cover design by Michel Vrana.
A “decades-long earthquake,” indeed: layered, hopeful, wonderful.
Cover design by Sarah Schulte.
Another text-in-a-square exception to the rule: framing rarely works so well. (Besides, there’s that illustration.)
Cover design by Daisy Bates; photograph by Vanessa McKeown.
Cover photograph of the year, foot hands down.
Cover design and illustration by Kimberly Glyder.
“A risqué cross-dressing interpretation of a Shakespeare classic”: I can’t decide if it’s a crown, horns, or teeth. (“Yes,” someone said.)
But it’s the red overprint that steals the show. Fantastic.
Parenthetically, the author is “a founding artistic director of The Semitic Root, a collective that supports innovative theatre co-created by Arab and Jewish Americans.” How awesome is that?
Cover design by Kelly Hill.
“Canadian text soothes,” some belligerent American said.
(Another one of those illustrations I’d happily hang on my office wall, by the way.)
Cover design by Kimberly Glyder.
Never mind anything else: it’s the scribble. (The title font’s beautiful, too, honestly.)
I try to reserve “perfect” for occasions that warrant it — this does.
Cover design by Luke Bird.
A geometric, simple triumph of illustration: I suppose if anyone can do a bird well….
(Sorry.)
As an aside, this title is not to be confused with Under the Eye of Big Bird, which is in a whole ’nuther category.
Cover design by Jamie Keenan.
Entangled in wonder. (Also, the background color is super, and the font — Celtic Hand by Dieter Steffmann — is proof that freebies sometimes work beautifully.)
A book about a professional weeper, [whose] “services are sorely needed these days, as the town, the region, the country as a whole has become more or less numb.”
Ummmm….
(The cover’s fantastic, too.)
Cover design by Maddy Angstreich; photograph by Bobby Doherty.
Dang, that’s not raw meat being squeezed there. (Nor a fruit, for that matter.)
Cover design by Pablo Delcan.
From June’s Spine column: “19th-century hair styles: the absolutely fantastic world of university press cover design briefs … absolutely nailed here, with pen-and-ink illustrations and aged type handled perfectly. (Great title, too.)”
Cover design by Na Kim.
To close out, another painting by Na Kim, as visually arresting as Brother Brontë, above, but 180 degrees in the other direction. (Bonus points for the pointillist lettering.)
Come to think of it, it’s 180 degrees from Dominion, too. Is it possible to have a 540-degree compass? Na apparently does — awesome.
• • •
2025’s favorites folder contained more than four hundred examples by the end of the year — a hundred more than 2024 — and represented a huge variety of titles, publishers, and design styles. (Significantly different from last year, too — interesting.)
It was a huge task to whittle the selections down; 400 to 300 was relatively easy, 300 to 200 more difficult, and those last hundred involved making hard choices between covers I really liked.
One thing helped: as mentioned in the intro, I worried less this year about highlighting every style, every designer, in every category — given the drama that was 2025, there was, in fact, a smidgen of comfort food involved.
But oh, that comfort food. Michelin starred.
Another help: my column at Spine.2Vyki Hendy, Spine‘s publisher, deserves a special thank you for that opportunity. It’s reminded me of the gems that exist in an area that doesn’t get enough attention — outstanding, often great, book covers I’m more than happy to find the time to celebrate. While I enjoyed casually perusing University Press designs in the past, they didn’t live under the same microscope that they did starting last June (and will continue to). Adding more University titles is an ongoing bonus, and several of those titles made it into this list; perhaps egotistically, I’d like to think that the exposure those titles received allowed them to make others’ lists, as well, a benefit for all. Nice.
Thank you for taking the time to spend a few minutes here today. I wish you a wonderful, successful, and above all, peaceful 2026. See you soon.
How this list was compiled
There were fewer sources for titles in 2025 than in years past; the BBC disappeared behind a paywall, the quality of mainstream publishers continues to decline, and those articles I did read seemed to stress trends and “what’s hot” rather than actual quality. Thankfully, there’s still PRINT, Spine, LitHub, The Casual Optimist, and NPR’s Books We Love. There’s also The Guardian, which does pretty well with books; the New Yorker‘s book reviews are outstanding (although rarely centered on their design); and, of course, there’s the New York Times Book Review (likewise, although Matt Dorfman’s best designs article deserves note). If you haven’t already, when you have a moment, please enjoy some of those links — a great many more outstanding examples of book cover creativity await.
1
Publishers need to remember that not all of their customers select what to read based on influencers, what they see on Facebook, or by doomscrolling Instagram. Some of us are lifelong learners, have hundred or thousands of books, and discover by … reading. Real articles, by real people, on websites with those people’s real names on them. (Or even, occasionally, this thing called paper.) ↩︎
2
Vyki Hendy, Spine‘s publisher, deserves a special thank you for that opportunity. It’s reminded me of the gems that exist in an area that doesn’t get enough attention — outstanding, often great, book covers I’m more than happy to find the time to celebrate. ↩︎
The AIGA’s book design competition has been around for 101 years now — and every year, it’s a pleasure to explore the great work featured within. This year, the jury “had the unique opportunity to view 523 entries from practitioners working in the book design field. It is encouraging that designers continue to be interested in this medium and are currently developing new ways of working with publishers and printers to push our discipline further,” said chair JP Haynie.
In order to be eligible, submitted designs had to have been published and used in the marketplace in 2024. Like last year, the winners were announced in October.
I’m sorry to be running late on this coverage, but as always with 50 Books | 50 Covers, it’s absolutely worth taking the time to go through the gallery and appreciate the dedication to craft shown within. (It just took a little longer than usual to share.)
Twenty titles are highlighted below. Taking a page from my Spine column, I’m including links to each book’s page so you can explore further. The titles are in alphabetical order.
Note: As with all posts here on Foreword, click the title to get to a dedicated page with a wider text column and, more importantly, bigger images.
Cover design by Lauren Peters-Collaer.
Many layers of Flattery deserved here.
Unfortunately, several of the individual AIGA gallery pages contain nothing other than the book and some rudimentary information. This is one.
Cover design by Pouya Ahmadi; art by Tanya Aguiñiga; photography by Gina Clyne.
Two specific shout-outs here: this issue’s title, AlieNation, and those flaps. It’s not the first time I’ve seen those large reverse flaps, but here done oh-so-well; there’s useful text hidden in those areas and dynamic photography (art, really) on the “surface.”
It’s fantastic to see journals in these awards, too — an underrepresented category, to be sure.
Book design by John Key.Book design by John Key.Book design by John Key.
One of the best things about the 50 Books competition is that it’s about the whole project, not just the cover. We get to see interior designs like this one, designs that are interesting and contributory to the mission of the title — which, when the title is about a designer, a high bar indeed.
Wading into this minefield — even as a book designer — could be an issue, to put it mildly. This one’s got just the right character, leaning into the great (and perfectly cropped) image, simple-yet-effective use of color, and large text to, um, score a lot with a small input.
Billed by The Washington Post as “riding a unicycle up and down a set of Escher staircases,” this novel deserves a cover design that’s not quite what’s expected.
As I mentioned above regarding 50 Books, one of the great things about 50 Covers is that we often get to see not only the cover image but the jacket as a whole.
Jacket design by Jennifer Griffiths.
The cover is awesome, a juxtaposition in just the right way. But the jacket as a whole is more complete, more contextual, and in this case, calmly supportive of the more provocative front cover.
I’m surprised that this style of vignetting isn’t used more often, using both the light area to draw the viewer’s attention to the title and the dark areas as a holding area for other necessary text. Falls into what I like to call, “simply, elevated.”
This title has an interesting cover, yes, but it’s the highly competent interior design that really caught my eye:
Book design by Alexandra Folino.Book design by Alexandra Folino.
With the wealth that is Glamour‘s history to pull from, the designer here has wisely used that content to elevate this title beyond simple spreads to something truly compelling. Well done.
Another great cover — the textures rock, the colors hit hard, the title text just right — backed up with a complimentary jacket:
Jacket design by Lynn Buckley.
It was probably tempting to load up the design, possibly even with visual puns as bad as my descriptions, but instead it supports perfectly. Nice.
There is a link for this title, but it’s another sadly lacking any description.
Book design by Andy Baron, Robert Williams, and Sarah Moffat.
The only title to get four images in this post. “Simply right,” taken to the next level.
Book design by Andy Baron, Robert Williams, and Sarah Moffat.Book design by Andy Baron, Robert Williams, and Sarah Moffat.
Oh, and the interior:
Book design by Andy Baron, Robert Williams, and Sarah Moffat.
Books on graphic design can miss the mark surprisingly often, either through trying to hard and thus overwhelming the content or by attempting to let the content be the star in such a hands-off way that the book design winds up detracting. Here, every part of this supports with respect, with style, and with a smile. A real highlight.
“Screw it, we’ll just make it awesome.” (The title is Chilean, by the way — and apparently awesomely-written, as it’s the first work to be awarded the three most prestigious Chilean literary awards.)
Another unfortunately-blank AIGA gallery page, but here’s a link in case it’s been temporally teleported somewhere important.
Cover design by Mike Tully and Cat Wentworth.
One of those photographs that doesn’t quite do justice. Exploring a little more yields rewards:
Cover design by Mike Tully and Cat Wentworth.
“Architecture is the perfect form on camouflage,” the description reads — and the book itself pulls a real varnishing act, inside and out.
The second journal on this list, by the way. Nice to see.
Cover design by Allan Espiritu, Kevin Kernan, and Jazel Panagsagan.
Treating the title (blind embossing and clear matte foil stamping) as reflective of the rising sun background is … genius. It’s also another entry from the awesome-flaps department:
Cover design by Allan Espiritu, Kevin Kernan, and Jazel Panagsagan.
Cover design by Ben Demzer, Rodrigo Corral Studio.
It’s not necessary to slow down to appreciate the alternating, repeating covers — even at today’s drive-by speeds, it’s easily appreciated.
The becoming-familiar not-quite-blank gallery page at AIGA, but here’s a link anyway.
Cover design by Ben Denzer.
Two in a row for Ben, and in a completely different direction. Still, a simple concept done exceptionally well. (Rodrigo Corral Studio isn’t listed in the credits, by the way, hence the credit line here.)
2024 was interesting in the way of the apocryphal Chinese curse: “May you live in interesting times.” Taking the time out to peruse the best of the new releases — for both book cover design and books in general — is tremendously enjoyable. Needed, even, now more than ever.
When it came time to do the years’ tally, summary, and post, the number of candidates in the favorites folder was well over three hundred: a third more than last year, more than double 2022’s.
It’s been argued that the increasing number of published titles is a reflection of publishers’ woes, including fighting back against publishing slop. (See my Beautifully Briefed series for more.) However, the increasing number of published titles means more work for the book designers among us — some of whom show, or continue to show, exceptional skill.
Consequently, this year’s list of favorite book design items has grown: up to one hundred and sixteen. Wow.
Fix a beverage and get comfy.
Please remember that the usual disclaimer applies: these are my favorites — others might say “best,” but I’ve been in this business long enough to know that there’s always another title you haven’t seen or read about. I don’t want to disrespect any of the talented book designers not on this list. I’ve tried to include design credit where I could — special thanks to the folks who answered emails with that information — and wish to stress that any mistakes in the list below are mine.
Note: If you’re on Foreword’s main page, please click on the post title, above, to view this list. You’ll get larger covers for your viewing pleasure.
• • •
My Four Faves for ’24
Cover design by Pablo Delcan.
It’s no surprise that we’re leading with an example of minimalism-as-superlative. This UK title is described thusly: “The centre of Chimera engages with a three-year field research project on the goat-herding practices of the Vlachs, a nomadic people of Northern Greece and the Southern Balkans, who speak their own language. In these poems, day-to-day activities such as shearing and shepherding mix with snippets of conversations, oral tradition and song―locating a larger story in this ancient marriage between humans and animals.”
Aside from being visually arresting, I can’t think of a better visual summary — yet still in keeping with the style of Cicada, the previous title. Awesome.
Cover design by Kelly Winton.
“[F]our generations of Eastern European Jewish women bound by blood, half-hidden secrets, and the fantastical visitation of a shapeshifting stranger over the course of 100 years,” all on a book cover, in a style that’s fresh and colorful with great lettering.
Cover design by Faber. Photograph by Juno Calypso.
Occasionally, a photograph just makes a cover — and this one vaults it to the top. (Sometimes, great book design is as “simple” as selecting great elements.) Part of a series called “the Honeymoon,” it’s absolutely the style of photographer Juno Calypso.
Cover design by Alison Forner. Typography by Andrew Footit.
Never mind the “time travel romance, spy thriller, workplace comedy, and ingenious exploration of the nature of power and the potential for love to change it all” — it’s the oh-so-dimensional title that transcends. (All that other stuff is just a bonus.)
The paper is perfect, the title interleaved with the water superlative, and the blood, which can absolutely be done into the realm of cliché, drips rather than gushes.
Cover design by Jack Smyth.
The first of five appearances for Jack Smyth — tops this year — this cover speaks to solitude (and cats!) with fantastic expression.
This photographic subject is so strong, yet clearly speaks to the cloudy tenderness within. (Also, title placement.)
Cover design by Helen Yentus.
Another examples of typography-on-the-edge — but, really, the hero on this cover.
Cover design by Johnathan Pelham.
Fantastic title placement (with the perfect hint of wear), complimented by the unusual treatment of the author’s name and pull quote, this cover only hints at the story within yet holds it up.
Cover design by Janet Hansen.
I’ll admit: it’s not immediately clear how this title and cover work together. Yet they do, and it’s not just because of the (male) hand and (female) face — or striking colors — it’s more the representation of reflection, something required in maturity.
Cover design by Chris Bentham.
The rearrange-the-pieces treatment for faces has become a thing, but few do it so well. Special bonus for the selection of photograph for this UK version of the title — and great color choices.
Cover design by Charlotte Stroomer. Photograph by Kelsey Mcclellan.
Another example of the photograph making the cover — but with simply awesome typography, too. (Huge fan of the overall color scheme, too.)
Cover design by Luke Bird.
This UK title shoots to kill, perfect for a story of shooting one’s self in the back. (The Irony Dept. reports that the publisher is Dead Ink, by the way.)
Cover design by Emma Pidsley.
Sticks it to ’em in the most compelling way. (Also: “There are two things that I simply cannot tolerate: feminists and margarine.”)
Cover design by Anna Morrison.
Another UK title, this one counters the too-much-blood thing with fabulous typography and an over-the-top — well, off-the-side, really — crop. (I especially love that the top of the rook’s head just peeks above the yellow.)
Cover design by Olivia Mcgiff.
“Hair-raising,” indeed. (Check out the veins.) The opposite of queer, brown, and fat — and yet, somehow, just right.
Cover design by Oliver Munday.
Few others can express so much with just a line. It sounds like a joke, something that treats the subject with something less than it deserves, but quite literally the lines on this gray background make all the difference.
Cover design by Suzanne Dean. Illusustion by Neue Gestaltung.
Greeks myths, contemporary dystopian narratives — never mind that, it’s the illustration on this cover that gets the “terrifyingly talented” label.
Cover design by Terri Nimmo.
Subversive, surreal, yet “refuses to pander or be pinned down and possessed.” (Also, “Essays.”)
Cover design by Sara Wood. Art by Isabel Emrich.
Real estate agent Lexi senses a drowning, leading to … well, a novel — but it’s the artwork, by painter Isabel Emrich, that carries this cover to the next level.
Cover design by Steve Coventry-Panton.
Minimalism exemplified. While some could argue cliché, I’d argue that it’s the perfect choice: for the weary, for the curious, for this cover.
Cover design by Isabel Urbina-Peña.
The eyes just grab you — “crackle like a bonfire,” to quote one of the reviews. (They were speaking of the text, not the cover, but better words….)
Cover design by Michael Salu.
Simple and geometric, yet story-telling in the finest.
Also, the whole jacket wins. (The bar code space is below “a novel,” by the way.)
Cover design by Ssarahmay Wilkinson. Art by Day Brierre.
Containing short stories set in Lagos, Nigeria, this cover speaks to African roots yet does so in a way that causes both admiration and upset in equal measure. “Brilliant” is overused, but….
Cover design by Gregg Kulick.
“Glorious Exploits,” indeed.
Cover design by Jack Smyth.
It’s, oddly, the UK version of this cover that does it for me: the US version relies on art, while Smyth’s version relies on talent. (Perhaps a metaphor for the bestseller within…?)
Cover design by Alex Merto.
Shades of M*A*S*H, certainly, yet brilliant on its own: lunatics is war.
Cover design by Anna Morrison.
“Playful demotic,” writ large.
Cover design by Olivia McGiff.
“A novel” is King. (Sorry.) Most haunting in exactly the right way.
Cover design by Anna Morrison.
The paper, the lines, all perfect — but it’s the crop that, well, sends it over the top.
Cover design by Robin Bilardello.
Labeled “perfect.”
Cover design by Arsh Raziuddin.
This girl represents the appropriate reaction to an image-based culture, a cut-apart look in the mirror that shouldn’t necessarily be limited to the fashion industry. (That the collage is vaguely heart-shaped probably ins’t a coincidence.) Bonus points for the title repeating around the edge.
Cover design by Oliver Munday.
“In a near-future world addled by climate change and inhabited by intelligent robots called ‘hums,’ May loses her job to artificial intelligence,” the description reads. Yes.
Cover design by Edward Bettison.
The illustration and type work so very well together. (Also, color.)
Cover design by Erik Carter.
Movie poster! (Also, color.)
Cover design by Emily Mahon.
With a title like that, it’s tempting to let it carry the day. Uh … no.
Cover design by Alex Merto.
The pink isn’t in halftone. (Also, the drops of drool.)
Cover design by Adriana Tonell.
A red, red rat is awesome. But it’s the way the green works — in the feet, yes, but especially the type — defines “win.”
Cover design by Arsh Raziuddin.
Not an easy title, handled with absolute skill.
Cover design by Jack Smyth.
“This book is written out of both love and hate for the world.” Nuthin’ but love for the cover from me.
Cover design by Emily Mahon.
Sometimes, the literal approach works. (Pardon the expression.) But it’s the added burn mark that makes it.
Cover design by Dominique Jones.
The red and gold, the title treatment, the complimentary blue ink, and the woman in the “o” are all fantastic. The snake, though, from scales to bite, is superlative.
“British and Black, with Jazz and Character” is a tough brief, handled here in a way that makes the title incredibly appealing.
Cover by Linda Huang.
Unusual color choice, eye-catching type, the explanation point! But, of course, it’s the illustration — and the accompanying speech bubbles — that take it to the next level. Bonus points for both the hooves balanced on the “K” and the treatment for the pull quote.
Cover design by Zoe Norvell.
That yellow, the blackletter title and unusually-spaced author play perfect — and curiosity-peaking — supporting roles to that painting. Purity, indeed.
Cover design by Jonathan Pelham.
What’s he pulling on, now? (Also, the title/author treatment.)
Cover design by Daniel Beneworth-Gray based on a concept by Daniel Fresán.
Cropped to perfection.
Cover by Suzanne Dean.
The first of three UK versions in a row: this title lights it up.
Cover design by Tom Etherington.
The US version of this title was in last year’s list, but this UK version is equally strong — in an entirely different way.
Cover design by Kate Sinclair.
Another UK version, another winner. Love the typography. Bonus points for the homemade emoji.
Cover design by Arsh Raziuddin.
All kinds of goodness nested into this one, from the title treatment to the slight fading in the tears (which continue on the back cover).
Cover design by Jon Gray.
From the green to the typography to — especially — the illustration, this cover weaves a tale from 1434 straight into our brains.
Cover design by Adriana Tonello.
The disembodied bits. ’Nuff said.
Cover design by Beth Steidle.
I feel for the rabbit.
Cover by David Drummond.
Speaking of empathy for the animal: this slim volume of poetry is perhaps an all-too-real sign of the times. (The cover, too.)
Cover by Luisa Dias.
Pink Rabbit, slightly dirty: there’s a quality to this that grabs on and won’t let go. (Thankfully, it’s the first in a series….)
Cover by William Ruoto.
The opposite of the above, yet still bloody good at capturing attention.
Cover by Jack Smyth.
1968 called, with the perfect cover original of the moment.
Cover by Zak Tebbal.
“Do a cover on sacrilegious theft,” someone said. Saint Nick brought us a gift.
Cover by Holly Battle.
Hard as one might try, topping this might never be possible.
Cover by Pete Adlington.
This UK title’s cover does so much more than it has any right to. Brilliant. (Bonus points for the grain.)
Cover design by Suzanne Dean. Art by Anton Logov.
Another gem from the less-is-more department. (Also, the paper texture and slight aging on the lettering.)
Cover design by Lynn Buckley. Art by Damilola Opedun.
There’s something about this that just works. Take a moment to read this LitHub intro instead of listening to me.
Cover design by Lucie Kohler.
Overstays … in your brain. Very nearly put this at the top of the pile.
Cover design by Suzanne Dean.
The energy in this cover is fantastic. But it’s what’s under the cover:
Paper art by Nathan Ward. Photos courtesy of LitHub.
The printed cover, too. Awesome.
Cover design by Jenni Oughton. Art by Noah Verrier.
Leaving aside the notion that Americans can recognize a Big Mac on sight, even when idealized/stylized — beautifully — like this, it’s the perfect compliment to this title.
Cover design by Tyler Comrie.
Farcical dystopia, embodied.
Cover design by Tom Etherington.
Unsee the face! (Bonus points for superlative typography.) Battled with Chimera and Rough Trade for one of the top spots.
Cover design and illustration by Vivian Lopez Rowe.
Reflections, indeed. (Also, color.)
Cover design by Sukruti Anah Staneley.
“Prod the bitch that is Life and become her.” These thirteen linked stories demand a cover that leaps off the shelf and grabs you.
Every year, there’s at least one title that so incredibly well illustrates how that notion works here in the US versus in the UK, and this year, it’s this one. I really like the above — the color’s awesome, and those teeth! — and believe it’s exactly right for the US market.
Cover design by Luke Bird. Photography by Graciela Iturbide.
But for the UK market … that photograph. (Bonus points for the title treatment.)
Cover design by Na Kim.
Watercolor perfection. Competed with Chimera and Point Line Plane for the one of the top spots. (I felt only one illustration-against-plain-background cover should be at the top. Might have been wrong.)
Cover design by Jamie Keenan.
The title treatment, the ink author’s name, and the photograph alone would be compelling. But … wow.
Cover design by Amanda Hudson.
From the illustration-makes-it dept. (Bonus points for the not-quite-halves.)
Cover design by Tom Etherington.
Paper and color, oh my.
Cover design by Luke Bird.
Yeah, it’s a cookbook. Who knew? Also:
Quadrille unfortunately didn’t return a request for the photographer’s name.
Bonus points for the fantastic photography within.
Cover design by Sarahmay Wilkins.
This would work perfectly well on the vertical. But it’s so much more this way.
Cover design by Perry De Le Vega.
Definitely amongst the 1%.
Cover design by Jamie Keenan.
Someone chose not to butcher. Except…. (Extra points for the apron strings.)
Cover design by Kelly Winton.
I’m a huge fan of a photorealistic collage, but this, interleaved with the title, defines superlative.
Cover design by Robin Bilardello.
In a world of algorithms, proof that creativity and talent are so very human. (Also, color.)
Cover design by Jaya Miceli.
That awesome green, the color-burned title treatment, the hand lettering, the texture — all add up to top-flight attention-getting. (Bonus points for the entomology illustration/hint.)
Cover design by David Pearson.
The swan’s pose of contemplation, indeed. (Also, color — perfect.)
Cover design by Holly Battle.
We all know a George.
Cover design by Beth Steidle.
So much more than just a pet rabbit. (Also, color.)
Cover design by Suzanne Dean. Illustration by Jialun Deng. Painting by Takaya Katsuragawa.
Never mind that this shade of yellow seems to be having a moment, let’s talk about that photograph: the goal of any cover is to peak your curiosity. And we have … win.
Cover design by Diego Becas.
A collection, indeed. (Also, color.)
Cover design by Lauren Peters-Collaer.
Ink gets blotted out. (Also, paper.)
Cover design by Jack Smyth.
Never mind the brilliance in the middle — the four pull quotes are, quite literally, the end of the rainbow.
Cover design by Derek Thornton.
Cultural and emotional shifts through technology, as expressed in (cover) art.
Cover design by Oliver Munday.
At the risk of repeating myself, no one does more with less than Oliver Munday: this level of white space deserves an award.
Cover design by Luisa Dias.
The eyes are eclipsed only by the rising magic dust. (Also, screening.)
Cover design by Jonathan Pelham.
Another where the US and UK express things differently; the UK’s, above, is brilliantly simple and simple in its brilliance.
Cover design by Sarah Schulte.
While the US version is more while still “less” in the big scheme of things. A two-fer.
Cover design by Kelli McAdams.
Text blocks do. (Also, awesome art.)
Cover design by Arsh Raziuddin.
Get lost in it. (Also, the article peeking out on the left.)
Cover design by Beth Steidle.
Reflections, torn asunder yet so lovingly smoothed out and preserved for posterity.
Cover design by Tom Etherington.
Two-color, geometric brilliance, given center stage.
Cover design by Ben Prior.
“Self-seeding wind / is a wind of ever-replenishing breath,” the title poem reads, but it’s the cover that drops the ultimate clipping. (Also, placement of “poems,” appropriately.)
Cover design by Jaya Miceli.
“Heavily textured” has never read so well.
Cover design by Alica Tatone.
I’m not sure what the illustration on this cover stands for — desert, sea, paths taken or not, or something I don’t or even can’t understand — and perhaps that’s why this design works on so many levels: an enigma that requires further exploration.
Cover design by Beth Steidle.
Cuddly in just the right way.
Cover design by Kimberly Glider. Illustration by Cory Feder.
“An affair with an arborist could result in a cutting,” I chose not to say. Wait. (Also, the accompanying cover.)
Cover design by Emily Mahon.
Geometry, color, content: this cover’s been promoted to the actual story.
Cover design by Tyler Comrie. Photograph by Matt Eich.
Photograph, texture, photograph, title treatment, photograph. (Also, the subtle shadowing in the author’s name and previous title.) Another very nearly at the top.
Cover design by Kaitlin Kall.
From color to art choice, this is a masterpiece. But those bite marks … aaaah!
Cover design by Holly Ovenden.
Tripping on a quest for a Bomb: yes.
Cover design by Tyler Comrie.
Tripping on a quest for Utopia: yes.
Cover design by Alex Merto.
The eyes, the fur … and the horns. Transcendent.
Cover design by David Mann.
Something not to talk about … yet, so remarkably expressive.
Cover design by Angela Maasalu.
Never mind anything else: it’s the fingernails.
Cover design by Nicole Caputo.
Just when you think these eyes have seen it all…. (Also, the typography.)
Cover design by Alicia Tatone. Art by Shannon Cartier Lucy.
“Dryly witty” describes more than just the text within. (Also, the title treatment … and “Mormon mommy bloggers.”)
Cover design by Mary Austin Speaker.
Surround yourself, feel, and bring great typography.
• • •
A moment of self-criticism, if I may: comparing this year’s list to the 2023 favorites, I can’t help but notice there’s a bit too much of the same. For myself, for my clients, and for my readers, I need to work on being too much inside a comfort zone. (Apparently hypocritically, in the 2023 summary, I commented on “sameism” being a thing.)
Meanwhile, again like last year, I’d like to highlight Dan Wagstaff’s comments over at The Casual Optimist:
A recent article on Spine argued that there is a battle between minimalism and maximalism going on. I think that could be true. Different approaches work for different audiences. But I also think it’s messier than that. I get the sense that publishers are less sure of what they want and what sells (certain genres notwithstanding).
It has been a rough year for a lot of publishers, so there is undoubtedly a lot of uncertainty, and no small amount of anxiety. I could go on about why that it is (and the publishing’s self-inflicted wounds) but, in short, what I think we’re also seeing with book covers is more meddling and less direction.
— Dan Wagstaff, The Casual Optimist
I’d read that Spine article, too, and generally agree with their argument that, “This is not just because designers have different ideas about the best way to cut through the noise, but because they are ultimately trying to appeal to two different types of readers. […] It is the designer’s job to know how to grab the attention of the specific readership that the author is trying to reach.”1I have point out: one of their minimalist examples, One Day, Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This, is a 2025 title already in the favorites folder. Stay tuned.
The buyers that minimalist and the maximalist covers appeal to don’t always overlap. But they do appear next to one another on shelves, actual or virtual. For one just perusing, it’s possible for the volume, whether minimalist or maximalist, to dissolve into noise. Dan’s right to caution.
Thankfully, the designers on this list have battled the committees bent on mediocrity and overcome with great talent, great design, and great perseverance.
My best wishes to them — indeed, all of us — in 2025. It has all the hallmarks of another interesting year.
2023 seemed to go by with greater speed than normal, meaning the process of accumulating my favorite book covers occurred more hastily than I would have sometimes preferred — after all, perusing the best of the new releases is tremendously enjoyable. It’s just that, due to this year’s hefty undertakings, I was not able to make as much time as I’d have liked.
So I was surprised when, in early January, the tally of candidates in the favorites folder was over two hundred items. A bounty of goodness.
Narrowing those down to the list below was exceptionally difficult. I tried to get to last year’s limit of 70 titles, but failed; I managed to narrow it to 80, then 78, but just couldn’t winnow any further.
Pull up a chair. This one’s gonna take a minute.
Please remember that these are my favorites — others might say “best,” but I’ve been in this business long enough to know that there’s always another title you haven’t seen or read about, and I don’t want to disrespect any of the talented book designers not on this list. I’ve tried to include design credit where I could — special thanks to the folks who answered emails with that information — and wish to stress that any mistakes in the list below are mine.
Note: If you’re on Foreword’s main page, please click on the post title, above, to view this list. You’ll get larger covers for your viewing pleasure.
My Favorite Book Covers of 2023 (three-way tie)
Design by Keith Hayes with art by Sasha Vinogradova.
“Find a gateway to the underworld. Steal a soul out of hell. A simple plan,” the Amazon description starts, and it’s a sequel of magic, secret societies, and whatever else.
But never mind all that. This cover grabbed my attention in a way few do, with its combination of art, shadow, and type, all carved to perfection.
Design by Oliver Munday.
I dare say that only Oliver Munday could have done this expression of so much with so little. Enormously appropriate, then, for a memoir only 64 pages long.
Design by Adriana Tonello.
From The Illiterate‘s Hungarian refugee in Switzerland we move to a Norwegian immigrant seeking freedom in America. Alas, she turns out to be our first (known) serial killer — giving this hand a quiet, eerie yet somehow classic quality that quietly compels like few others. Outstanding.
Other 2023 Favorites, in alphabetical order:
Design by Holly Ovenden.
Impressive sense of movement from these figures, whose interplay with the title type combines with quotes-on-a-path (something of a trend this year) and great color choices to provide something memorable.
Design by Keith Hayes.
Such a simple concept. Such superlative results. No other concerns.
Design by Holly Ovenden.
There is another version of this on one of the “best of” lists, but I much prefer this one, with the circling birds and hand-done lettering. A two-color triumph.
Design by Oliver Munday.
Oooollllliiiiivvvvvveerr!
Design for the US version by Anna Weyant.
One of those examples where the art just shouts off the shelf, although the type treatment works exceptionally well, too. Better still, it’s one of the rare US versions that bests its UK treatment:
Design for the UK version by Kishan Rajani.
Not at all bad — in several “best of” lists, in fact. Just not mine.
Design by Sarah Wood.
I’m not sure whether the items on the page are models, made (or found) objects, or some extremely well-done Photoshop work, but ultimately it’s combination of the simple graphics and brilliant typographic treatment that earned this title its spot. Fantastic.
Design by Caroline Johnson.
The ’70s are hot right now, but this is 2023, aged to perfection. Very nearly made the “best of,” not just the “best of the rest.” Horrifically good.
Design by Oliver Munday.
Type, color, pattern, brilliance. Must be a Munday.
Design by Dylan C. Lathrop.
Eyes are a frequent guest on book covers. Rarely so many, though, and rarely in two-color. Winner of more than a Pulitzer.
Design by Emily Mahon, lettering by Martina Flor.
Edie O’Dare does tell, it turns out. “Cinematic” might be a cliché, but….
Design by Pete Garceau.
I’m a sucker for a great woodcut-style illustration. Great type treatment propels it into a standout book cover.
Design by Ingsu Liu.
There’s something decidedly non-emergency about this, yet once you understand, it works perfectly: simple, yet so very not.
Design by Eric C. Wilder.
This book of Native poetry ranges from Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women (MMIW) to reverence to the natural world to “the machinations of colonialism,” a cover assignment that could border on impossible. Yet, here . . . absolutely brilliant. Expressive and so much more, including possibly my favorite type treatment of all on this list.
Design by Arsh Raziuddin.
Danger: UXB. (The pink is an inspired choice, too.)
Design by Tom Etherington.
Fear knows no bounds, only stylish hats. (On the LitHub list, someone said it has “serious 2024 vibes,” which I’m concerned may turn out to have some truth to it.)
Screen print by Kate Gibb, lettering by Jodi Hunt, and photograph by Adaeze Okaro.
Rarely have photo and type worked so well together. Fantastically well done, with plenty of room for the soon-to-be-added kudos, quotes, and awards.
Design by Beste Miray Doğan.
Who splits a four-letter word onto two lines? Someone after great results, as it turns out — with bonus points for the pattern and color in the “splash.” Nice.
I’m at a bit of a loss to describe why I like this so much, except that every time I look at it, I like it even more.
Design by Kate Sinclair.
Perfect execution of a simple concept, from colors to art to type.
Design by Devin Grosz.
Wins the “best-placed title” award, among so many others.
Design by Greg Heinimann.
A reminder that something done often can still be done with originality — and incredibly well.
Design by Emily Mahon.
The collage-as-book-cover is another (perhaps) overused item, but when in the hands of Emily Mahon, this one looks you in the eye and won’t let go.
Design by No Ideas.
The jacket that covers The King of New York with . . . Lou Reed. “Well played” seems like an undersell.
Design by Janet Hansen.
From the textured paper to the type choices, this cover’s great. But with that photo choice, it’s vaulted into “best” category.
Design by Alex Merto.
The combination of geometric shapes and unexpected typography mean this little guy will never get painted into a corner.
Design by David Drummond.
“Type here,” someone said.
Design by Oliver Munday.
Type-as-a-border is a trend — one I’m surprised to see on a Munday — that’s actually a great counter to the purposely irreverent illustration. I dig it.
Bird-as-cat’s-eye. On a Margaret Atwood. ’Nuff said.
Design by Luke Bird.
Brilliantly, uh, substantive: a lesson in how-to.
Design by Jack Smyth.
The rooftops alone make this, but avoiding the stereotypical Irish colors is a huge bonus, too. (This title went on to win the 2023 Booker Prize, by the way.)
Design by Janet Hansen.
A triumph of the less-is-more approach, starring a headless human and superlative typography. Fantastic.
Design by Kimberly Glyder.
It’s rare to see children’s literature graced with such a great cover — this one literally flies off the shelf to grab your attention. A rare bird, indeed.
Design by Alban Fischer.
St. John called: this cover is fabulous, from evocative body parts to hand-lettering to die for. Awesome.
Design by Will Staehle.
A novel on the Korean Provisional Government — and so very much more. The split treatment, with both halves running at 11, get fantastic typography and the Korean characters (in gold, obvious in person) are a great touch.
Another where the US version shines, especially as cassettes are coming back into fashion. (Special points for the subtitle-as-label.) A B-side no longer.
Design by Emmily O’Connor.
Brilliant comment redacted.
Design by Will Staehle.
Mallory Viridian is an amateur detective on an extraterrestrial (and sentient!) space station — perfectly sold with this line-art-only cover. Fantastic.
Design by Anna Green.
Dead birds wouldn’t ordinarily be my go-to for cover excellence. But this one, with its painterly quality and hand lettering, perfectly hints at the haunting, slightly bizarre adventure within. Perhaps I should study more; as many will testify, it’s certainly not an obedience thing. (Read the Booker Prize listing.)
Design by Caroline Suzuki.
One of those instances where the graphic just sells the cover. Brilliant.
Design by Jaya Miceli.
The continuing stigmatization of the LGBTQ+ population in the United States is so perfectly summarized here. (I’m curious how this cover was done, too: white paint, then watercolored? Gouache? Either way, the colors serve the overall so very well.)
Design by John Gall.
This collage jumps through my psyche: sophisticated, off-kilter, and yet, somehow, completely right.
Design by Jamie Keenan.
I had to look up Charles Baudelaire, I have to admit — but didn’t need to know in order to get the disjointed, colorful appeal of this cover.
Design by Na Kim.
Leaving a trail, all right. (Also: the text colors.) This version is mercifully short of Booker notifications, too — sometimes, I wish all the callouts and clubs would just go away.
Design (and illustration) by Sarah Schulte.
Type on a path can be fraught, as can simple illustrations on off-white. Except when simple ideas are translated into compelling book design. Completely different from the above, yes, but just as accomplished.
Design by Gray318.
Crown. Asterisk. Print!
Design by Sarah Shulte.
As the risk of repeating myself: “Type on a path can be fraught, as can simple illustrations on off-white. Except when simple ideas are translated into compelling book design. Completely different from the above, yes, but just as accomplished.”
Design by Jamie Keenan.
This trick can only be pulled once, and book designers everywhere are envious downright jealous. Here’s the cover — uh, flap:
“Continued on rear flap,” it doesn’t say.
Design by Lauren Peters-Callaer.
Brilliance in titling aside, check the glint in the rabbit’s eye. Wonderful.
Design by Grace Han.
Interlocking forks, LOL. (Also, color choices.)
Design by Alex Merto.
This has gotten a bunch of well-deserved attention: from the embossed type to the gradually-increasing repetition of the artwork, Alex Merto scores and scores then repeats. Great stuff.
Design for the US version by Alicia Tatone.
Gluttonously hits a bunch of high notes, and keeps coming back for more — until:
Design for the UK version by Jo Walker.
Yeah. Score one for the UK.
Design by Kelly Winton.
Is it possible for something Escher-esque to be soothing? Yes, it turns out.
Design by Oliver Munday.
Perfectly abstract, brilliantly pulling together the remarkably disparate stories within.
Design by Kapo Ng.
“Kingdom of surfaces,” so very indeed.
Design by Beth Steidle.
“Spare, beautiful, and richly layered, the [book’s cover] is dazzling.” —Foreword
Design by Allison Saltzman.
Another of those too-simply concepts that checks out on every level. Awesome.
Design by Alex Merto.
Rarely does so much text take up so little space yet work so well — this 75th anniversary reprint stacks up. (Imagine inspiring a school-aged Stephen King, by the way. That’s “The Lottery.”)
Design by Linda Huang.
“A novel” has never played so well.
Design by Jaya Miceli.
Steppen-out: this new translation gets new meaning. (In the text, too, I understand.)
Design by John Gall.
Multi-layered shadowboxing. Nice.
Design by Steve Attardo.
A study in simple perfection. For a book examining heightening fascism, toning down the cover speaks volumes. Great choices on every level.
Design by Greg Mollica.
To collage in a way that the resulting product is of higher value than the original items: upcycling, indeed. (“The thread tying the cover together is a masterstroke,” he said.)
Design by Lauren Peters-Callaer.
“The humor of a great conversation,” one of the reviews said, and better words could not be found for the cover. Masterful.
Design by Andrew Davis.
The woodcut-style illustration is back, in two-color and aged to perfection. (The paperback kept the illustration but changed out and dulled the colors, to a much less satisfying effect. Curses.)
Design by Tom Etherington.
“Permeable boundaries,” illustrated brilliantly, with perfect texture and typography.
Design by Tyler Comrie.
“Sings,” someone said. “Seconded,” I said.
Design by Jonathan Pelham.
Stories told in a triumph of less is more. (The US version is good — another that’s one some others’ “best of” lists — but here’s another one where I think the UK slam dunks.)
Design by Laywan Kwan.
This is one of those covers that keeps giving, a three-color triumph of telling the book’s story. (Also: typographically counter-riffic.)
Design by Na Kim.
The Book of Goose was one of my top three covers last year, but high expectations are nothing when Na Kim is covering it. Storied, indeed.
UK version design by Andrew Davis.
I was going to go on for a minute, again, about how the UK gets all the good covers — and this one earned a spot in this post — but…:
US version design by Owen Gent.
…the more I look at this US version, the more I like it. The hint of cat, the red shading, the paper’s tone and texture, and the type treatment stand in direct contrast with the fabulously literal interpretation of the UK version. Given both, I literally couldn’t choose.
Design by Matt Dorfman.
“There’s a painting at the door,” in the most amazing state. (Political pun intended.)
William Morrow didn’t return a request for the cover design’s name, unfortunately.
There are so many ways to get this design wrong — but wow: someone took a cliché and literally flew in the face of it, to brilliant, memorable effect. I wish I could give appropriate credit.
• • •
Dan Wagstaff over at The Casual Optimist comments that,
[I]t’s like we’re stuck in a holding pattern, circling the same design ideas. Trends have stuck around. A lot of covers feel safe. Some of this was the books themselves. I’m not sure exactly how many celebrity memoirs is too many, but I’m pretty sure we reached that point and sailed right past it in 2023. No doubt some of it is sales and marketing departments sanding down all the edges and demanding the tried and true (see Zachary Petit’s alternative best of 2023 piece on killed covers for Fast Company). But I would not be surprised if it designers were just getting caught up in the churn — too many books, too many covers, and too much other stuff to worry about.
— Dan Wagstaff, The Casual Optimist
I think he’s right. Despite growing the number of selected covers this year over last, I feel that despite the outstanding items above, the majority of the book covers and jackets — almost certainly by publishers’ explicit direction — are playing it safe. After all, here in the Roaring Twenties, rocking the boat brings nothing short of vilification.
Thankfully, the designers on this list have battled the committees bent on mediocrity and overcome with great talent, great design, and great perseverance. Power to them, and I wish them — indeed, all of us — continued success in 2024.
Please note: I somehow missed the 2023 University Press Design Show — usually linked here — so please stay tuned for that post soon (and then again in July for the ’24 Show). Apologies.
Just like last year, this post took longer than expected due to the best possible circumstance: there were so many great book cover designs in 2022 that I had a hard time whittling down the list. Even as it is, we’re busting right through last year’s limit of 50. Good times!
If we take a step back and look at the trends this years’ favorites represent, it’s more and better illustration, custom and hand-painted type, and a sense of a single focus — one, dominant thing on a field of color. Also, the trend of fewer photographs continues — more evidence that photography has become so ubiquitous that something different is required to stand out. (Or, of course, a really great photograph.)
Please remember that these are my favorites — others might say “best,” but I’ve been in this business long enough to know that there’s always another great title you haven’t seen or read about, and I don’t want to disrespect any of the great book designers not on this list. I’ve tried to include design credit where I could (special thanks to the folks who answered emails with that information), and I wish to stress that any mistakes in the list below (incorrect attribution, for instance) are mine.
Note: If you’re on Foreword’s main page, please click on the post title, above, to view this list. You’ll get larger covers for your viewing pleasure.
My favorite book covers for 2022 (Three-way tie):
Design by Julianna Lee.
How to be Eaten combines an aged look, just a smidgen of pencil sketch, hand-drawn type, and those eyes to create something that just goes beyond. I’m certain the background wolf and creases are real, too, either photographed or scanned — bonus points for that all-too-rare practical effects — and all this in what amounts to two colors. Simply awesome.
Design by Na Kim.
The Book of Goose defies use of the words “art form” — it’s the kind of cover that for many designers would be once-in-a-career good. However, Na’s work appears below, was here last year, and speaks to Na’s creativity being, well, a golden goose that just keeps on giving.
Design by Derek Thornton.
Simply put: there’s literally nothing about The Illusion of Simple that isn’t perfect. J’adore.
Other 2022 favorites, in alphabetical order:
Design by Matt Bray.
This is striking not only for the beautifully-photographed woman in the pool, but the way the pool is extended out to make that woman even more striking. The pattern overlay is fantastic, too.
Design by Pete Garceau.
There’s nothing about this not to like: the frankly perfect illustration on a great background color, the head through the “O,” subtitle censorship bar, the sock, even the title. Enjoy-a-cigarette-after good.
SoHo Press didn’t return a request for cover design information.
Bunch of aged books with a little type, right? Yes, by so much more: striking colors, great hand-done supplementary text, perfect title treatment, style in spades.
Design by Jo Walker.
This is a UK cover — the American one is okay, but not on this list — that celebrates a minimalism that is rarely seen, let alone so well seen.
Design by Tyler Comrie.
What’s not to say about this cover? While faceless women are perhaps overused, this is a book I’d snatch off the shelf — and seemly catch something from — in an instant. Well. Done.
Design by Oliver Munday.
As simple illustrations go, this one in on track for the city of Superlative. Another Oliver Munday classic.
Illustration by Seb Agresti.
Along with “faceless woman” is “headless woman,” but the illustration here more than makes up for it. But it’s the expert, almost laugh-out-loud use of a void that makes it. Well done.
Design by Aleia Murawski and Sam Copeland.
Sure, the title and background colors are neat, the sky outside is cool, and “a novel” is a nice, subtle addition. However: I want to know how this photograph happened. (And a waffle hot dog.)
Design by Maddie Partner.
The first of a couple of titles with unexpected wrap-around type treatments, this one has great type choices, too. But the real treat for me is the plane knocked out the photograph. Fantastic.
Design by Suzanne Dean.
This title hides a secret: under the simple and wonderfully-die-cut jacket is a beautiful photo from René Groebli’s photoessay The Eye of Love.
Awesome. (Note that, once again, we celebrate the UK version of the book; the US hardcover has a design not on this list. Crumpets.)
Design by Mike Topping.
The moon as O. The birds. The graduation from fur to imagery. The yellow. Any would be good on their own, but are great together. Have to say: I’ve seen this in multiple shades of yellow. I prefer the darker — closer to the Barnes title, above — to the lighter, shown here.
Design by Anna Morrison.
The typography, awesome little plane — the purse(r)! — the clouds, all of it: sky-high levels of good.
Interestingly, Fight Night‘s cover also had a 2021 version worthy of note:
Design by Patti Ratchford, illustration by Christina Zimpel.
I can’t begin to imagine what caused the redesign, or why it wound up being so radically — 180 degree! — different. The old design wound up on some “best covers” lists (here’s LitHub’s October 2021 post, for instance); both have wound up on mine.
Design by Ploy Siripant.
The bird exiting the scene stage right makes this just right, with bonus points for the textured paper and slightly-rounded sans serif. I think the illustration is perfect — classically done, one could say — and also love that “author of Want” is in a different font.
Design by Vi-An Nguyen.
Four Treasures to the Sky, mentioned in the May book cover design roundup, leaps into the best-of-the-best list. It features an aged look, but in a woodblock way that celebrates its limited palette. Add in the illustration’s interactions with the type and the vertical “a novel” — often an afterthought — and brilliance emerges.
W. W. Norton didn’t respond to a cover designer request. Apologies.
As photomontages go, this one is simple — yet simply powerful: red Albania meets (and hugs!) beheaded Stalin. Great choices.
Design by Alison Forner.
The quality of type and decorations on this “label” are beyond outstanding. This cover is candy for book design lovers and readers alike.
Design by Alex Merto.
From It’s Nice That, we have a nice feature on Alex Merto — whose Ghost Wall cover is a great example of plant life adding so much more: “the force of a river to the head,” to paraphrase Emma Donoghue’s quote. Plus, one color! Win.
Design by Grace Han.
Nine parts awesome: type and illustration join to light a fire under the words “quality” and “imagination.” (Have I mentioned that I love a textured paper? Here’s a different one that’s also great.) This is one of several titles that’s not only a great book cover, but on a bunch of “best book” lists, too. Great books should have cover equal to their contents, and this one scores.
Design by Emily Mahon.
This isn’t here because of the attention Ukraine deserves these days, it’s here because of that illustration. Brilliant design needn’t be complicated, so ably proved here.
Design by Lucy Kim.
I mentioned at the top of the post that, these days, photographs have to bring something special to the table to stand out. And this cover does, from any table in any bookstore anywhere. (Lovely typography choices here, too.)
Design by Matthew Broughton.
One trend I didn’t mention at the top of the article is the montage-in-type, done here to absolute perfection.
Design by Andrea Ucini.
The woman in looking off the edge of the page at … something looking back. (Not only that, whatever it is casts a shadow.) The book is described as “subtle yet candid,” something that could equally be said about this brilliant cover.
Design by Holly Ovenden.
Another UK cover, this image doesn’t show the uncoated stock and debased type — but does show the jump-off-the-shelf color choices and awesome interaction of title with background. (The US cover, alas, resorted to stereotype. Perhaps we aren’t sophisticated enough?)
Yale Univ. Press didn’t respond to a request for the cover designer.
Choose a interesting texture, put some blocks of color on it, some type and … done. Hah! (Seriously, just look at the hands: they say it all.) Bonus to the hints of doily in heaven.
Design by Emma Ewbank.
The wrap-around title treatment makes another appearance here, with bonus second and third layers and a perfectly-done pull quote. With the aged ink fill and type accenting the striking illustration, this one is in that “wall-worthy” category.
Design by Matt Dorfman.
On our second Ukrainian title, both flower and umbrella work together here to force us to stop and look. (The stenciled type is a brilliant stroke, too.) Proof that genius often appears simple.
Design by Jenny Carrow.
The montage, taken to the next level: Jaffa, orange exports, and an healthy serving of emotion. (Also: curved text is rarely so on-target.)
Design by John Gall.
So simple, yet it is precisely that reaching off the shelf, grabbing your attention. This book is described as “spare and monumental,” and no less can be said of the cover.
Design by June Park.
“Texture is key,” sure, but there’s texture and there’s this. The island’s brush strokes into what seem like a moon are whatever happens beyond perfection. I didn’t expect this cover for a novel about Pakistan, yet the emotion, the … evocation is perfect.
Design by Oliver Munday.
Apple? Tongue? Misfit teenager? Disturbed and distressed? Yes.
W. W. Norton didn’t respond to a request for cover design information.
Rarely are such seemingly “dry” subjects treated with such skill: the angled type set against an urgent red, the subtitle sticker-that’s-better, and the photo choices add up to something I’d grab off a shelf immediately.
Cover design: Christopher Sergio
LitHub says this one has a very high “hang on the wall” factor. I can’t think of a better description — great stuff.
Cover design: Na Kim
Na Kim just can’t help but design the best covers: a wonderful, antique background complimented by sheer brilliance. (Great typography, too.)
Cover design: Emily Mahon
It’s nigh-on impossible to look at this cover and not flip it around to read the text trisecting the leopard. Take something simple, add the elusive more, get this. Yeah.
Cover design: Jim Tierney
Another fantastic example of plants adding more than the sum of their parts. The mottled green background and watercolor-style falloff is perfectly complimentary. Great stuff.
Macmillan did not return my inquiry regarding a cover designer.
From the Banned Books Department, we have the 20th Anniversary edition of this difficult title rendered in a photo-based collage that’s nothing short of brilliant. Highest praise.
Very nearly the perfect black-and-white cover. Texture and shape combine with an incredible title treatment in a way that shrugs off the need for color. Fantastic.
Design by Allison Saltzman, art by Sonya Clark.
I’ve said before that moving to the South was a bit of a shock — the racism still all-too-evident jars all-too-often. This cover takes a simple, elegant idea and, without any of the stereotypes so often reached for, delights with style and simplicity, absolutely earning its spot in this list. (This is another of those titles that’s on many “best of” book lists, too. It’s a genuine pleasure to see worthy books get great covers.)
Design by Holly Macdonald.
“Wow” is the only word here — a stunner of a photograph used in, if I may borrow from the cover, a breathtaking way. Simple, elevated to exquisite.
Design by Jamie Keenan.
Never mind that I never knew Cary Grant was once a stilt walker (or named Archie Leach), this is an exercise in using a famous face in an innovative way, with a cast of supporting characters that flow as naturally as lines on paper. A trip through the possible — fantastically well-done.
Design by Jamie Stafford-Hill.
Fantastic type and color treatments, yes, but it’s the way the photograph is handled that shines: where the eyes are, the color treatment implying front and side, all of it. A 2016 book reissued in hardcover with a cover guaranteed to attract new readers.
Design by Oliver Munday, or perhaps Erik Rieselbach (depending on who you ask).
This cover is the antithesis of a swelled, salted herring: it’s brisk, to the point (if I do say so), and throws a life ring out to inspire book designers everywhere.
Book design: David Drummond
Brilliant: actual text, printed (on a great color paper, too), with actual string, photographed on said print. Not only is it exactly right for the subject matter, it’s simply and beautifully done.
Cover design: Jack Smyth
Never mind the great brushed color blocks or boat-rowing-the-ocean above the title. This is here mainly for the overlap between color and island: shortlisted for the prize for intersection-of-the-year.
Design by Luke Bird.
“I’ll just do a little cropping,” designers say. Then there’s … genius.
Design by Mary Austin Speaker, art by Stacia Brady.
Another piece of art that’s absolutely wall-worthy — actually by the author’s mother — complimented by a tasteful type treatment with a wonderfully-offset “poems.”
Design by Colin Webber.
“Great” can’t even begin to describe this cover — from the lemon shape, staggered type, green background, back-of-head portrait, to the slightly-aged treatment, we have ingredients that add up to that highest of achievements: a book I’d buy knowing nothing about, no hype [machine] needed.
Design by John Gall.
Classical painting with a singularity. Sure. So easily pulled off … if you’re John Gall.
Graywolf Press didn’t respond to a request regarding cover design.
The title treatment is the winner here, using two translucent shades of orange to the best possible effect — taking a nice painting/illustration to the top floor.
Design by Alex Merto.
Describing this cover as “haunting” would be a cheat — but completely accurate. (Love the line of type down the right side, too.)
Design by Jamie Keenan.
The rare type-only treatment … taken to an entirely new level. Fantastic.
Design by Christina Vang.
A triumph of textures: one matchbook you never want to throw away.
Design by Lauren Peters-Collier.
Breaks through more than water and time: it’s thrust into your memory. (See a note from the designer at LitHub’s cover reveal.)
Design by Albon Fischer.
One of only two text-only treatments in this list, done in a ’70s style — yet taken to a clever and impressive level. (Love the stacked “lls.”)
Design by June Park.
I adore how the type and frankly fantastic illustration work together here. Wonderful!
Cookbooks rarely make an appearance on “best book covers” lists — yet this one earns its spot with an antithesis-of-the-stereotype approach. Ordinary it is not, in the best possible way.
Design by Jack Smyth.
Another UK version — the US version is good, more than most even, but it’s this one that shines with its great photo choices, cut lines, and great type treatment.
Design by Katie Tooke.
This one’s a two-fer, with the UK version, above, showing the book-edge treatment done really well, while the US version…
Design by … ?
…takes it to another level. Is there such a thing as a cloud globe? Or is that one of those old-fashioned stock-ticker covers? Either way, the subtle pattern — in front in some places, receding in others — adds a wonderful touch. Great stuff. (Great, too, to see the US version take one: a rare treat.)
Cover design by Roman Muradov.
Bellevue Literary Press scores a win here, with something immediately recognizable as about music, yet so much more. Performance art, indeed.
Note: I originally attributed this title to Yale University Press instead of Bellevue Literary Press. I regret the error.
Design by Na Kim.
Na Kim apparently not only did the design but the illustration, as well. The rest of us can only aspire to that level of talent.
Cover design: Leanne Shapton
This illustration being in grayscale is, at first, a little off. But, of course, that’s exactly the point. I overuse “brilliant,” but it’s the best description. (Again, see a note from the designer at LitHub‘s cover reveal.)
Design by Elizabeth Yaffe.
Family epics, climate change, dystopian futures, and Moon — all somehow included in this rich illustration. Two-color greatness. (Bonus: Another great use of “a novel,” something often “meh.”)
Design by Brian Moore.
A standout historical photograph is only the beginning: it’s really the coloration that’s the story here, for both book and cover — so well done.
Design by Kelly Blair. Illustration by Toby Leigh.
Among the best book cover illustrations ever, perfectly inserted into the seatback in front of you. (Great Circle’s cover was in last year’s list, by the way.)
Design by Christopher Moisan.
There’s something about underwater photography, with its beautiful, soft light and fascinating reflections, that is evocative — and there’s nothing about this photograph that isn’t evocative. A triumph.
• • •
Whew. Seventy great book covers. 70!
Okay, let’s summarize: 2022’s crop of favorite covers not only surpass 2021’s, the quality of work here represent what I believe to be a new standard. To all the designers — and art directors that chose them — congratulations.
