design I like.

The idea of not judging a book by its cover, and other such extraneous analogies, is just a fallacy of logic. It is untrue for the majority of readers, even if they refuse to admit it. The cover is more of a draw than the words on the last page, or even the first, when first laying hands on a bound stack of pages.

House of Leaves was published in 2000 by American imprint Pantheon Books. It is, like I have previously mentioned, a labyrinthine work of epic postmodern construction and meaning. Not only a satire on academic criticism, it is also a love story, albeit an unconventional one at that. It is commonly grouped with the horror novels in bookstores, and although it is a piece that is infused with supernatural elements and is ultimately one of the most haunting works I have ever read, it is certainly not a horror novel.

The cover is not the only place of photographic visual stimulation within House of Leaves, but it will be my focus for purpose of this blog entry.

The composition of the cover is completely balanced, drawing the viewers' eyesight straight down the middle. If the reader decides to work through this cover (the 2nd edition paperback one for full disclosure) top to bottom, then they will receive the fact that it is a "National Bestseller" first and then a "Novel" last. The title of the novel and the author's name are centered and in the middle of the composition. From this vantage point, the cover design nails its primary textual function of presenting the reader with the name of the work, the name of the author, and what type of work it is (in addition to how it has sold since it has been first published).

After reading a few pages of the novel, the reader will notice that the word "house" is always printed in the color blue. The cover is no different, and the meaning, although possibly having a multitudinous quality, can only be attained by reading the book (or researching it). This could be a draw for potential readers, as could the intricate puzzle in the background. The compass in the middle is also a recurring motif throughout the novel whose meaning, like that of the color of the word "house", can only be attained by reading or researching the novel.

I like to think of House of Leaves not only as a novel, but an experience, and a pretty shattering one at that. It is too bad that the cover does not hint at the unconventional typography contained within the following pages, but I have assured myself that it is pretty hard to only look at the cover and not open it up (not to mention the ridiculous size of it is an intrigue in itself).