Books I could Eat for Breakfast... LOSER

This book is LOSER by American author Jerry Spinelli. It’s lovely in every single way.

The cover is plain blue with a matt finish and the figure depicted in the centre in white (it has a spot UV varnish on the line). Both the title and the author’s name are in a recessive shade of blue. The design is all about the crazy little dude in the middle. And that’s exactly what the book is about: a crazy little dude called Donald Zinkoff.

The thing is, I’m not sure I should really be shouting too much about the design of this HarperCollins edition when all credit should really go to Orchard who published STARGIRL with a similarly bold design and, in fact, did it first (did they? I'm not sure what the US cover was... feel free to correct me on this, if you're in the know). The simplicity of both covers reflects the simplicity of the stories contained within. Both are about outsiders, people (children) who couldn’t conform if they tried and who stand out... like, erm, white figures on a plain background.

Loser is my personal favourite because of Donald, someone ignorant of his own innocence in a way Stargirl isn’t. Donald really is a loser, the kind of child even the weak would pick on. But there’s something comforting in true innocence; you can’t be hurt by others’ cynicism; your love for life is straightforward and unashamed; even taunts can pass you by if you really are innocent through and through because you won’t see the intended slight.

I find something very liberating in thinking about innocence. I’m jaded adult these days, but this book had me yelling “I can spell tintinnabulation!” (and then failing miserably) for days. If you read it, I reckon you’ll be doing the same.

Books I Could Eat for Breakfast

This book was bought for its cover, and what a cover it is. I’ve tried to give you a sense of its full awesomeness in this photo. (I’m not sure I’m really doing it justice, but hey ho.) You can see that the idea of the Kinder-surprise-style model assembly kit is carried right around the book from front, around the spine and even around the barcode. I love a fully designed cover. It gives me goosebumps. This book was bought as a present by someone else, so imagine the joy when I found out it was a Nick Stearn creation – he who designed Clash and The Deeping Secrets.

Anyhoo, design-drooling aside, Neal Shusterman's Unwind (Simon & Schuster) is a gem. It examines the idea of children being ‘unwound’ for their body parts – harvested for their organs if their parents sign them off before they’re eighteen. It’s written in the third person present tense and you’re kept at a certain distance by the narrative moving between three characters, but this allows for the fringe characters to gain a certain level of importance. In doing so the reader’s mind is left turning in and around and about, questioning fundamental issues about identity, value and medical science.

I rarely wish a book was longer, but this book... ah. It’s something else.

Books I Could Eat for Breakfast

The Ask and the Answer (trade PB edition) Walker Books

Anyone who has ever met me knows that I adore The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness. I am being literal when I say this; I tell everyone to buy it. Sometimes I buy it for them. I actually have two copies of the book so that I have one I can lend out. I carry it about my person just in case…

So why isn’t this entry about that book? Well, it seems fitting to open this feature with the first book that I actually tried to eat the second I laid eyes on it. To me, this book is the perfect package.

It represents a world where money is no object and designers, editors, sales team and author work in harmony. The white background leaps off the shelf and the embossed typography set against that edible matt silver foiling make holding the volume a tactile joy.

Then there’s the dual ‘A’ on the spine that nods to images imbedded within the story and the spot UV (“It’s like these words aren’t there to be read but to be heard…”). These are both clever design details, jokes to be shared with the reader after they finish the book, like a secret track at the end of an album.

Contained within (stunning coloured verso front and back, noted) the dual narrative caught me by surprise as I never look at reviews of a book I already intend to read. Yet as with the first in the trilogy, whoever typeset this was a genius. The two body fonts are as distinct and fitting as the voices themselves.

Five paragraphs in and I haven’t mentioned the writing. Honestly, I don’t think I need to, do I? If you want a review I’d read this at The Mountains of Instead. But I would like to say one thing:

The Ask and the Answer contains a chapter heading that reduced me to tears (heart-rending, uncontrollable sobs – I was inconsolable for a good twenty minutes before reading on). A. Chapter. Heading. If Ness can do that with five words, imagine what he did with a whole book of them.