Magic. I should have done this, like, much sooner. Except that I didn’t believe (despite ample evidence all through my blogroll to the contrary) that it was possibly possible that you could really truly genuinely say, “Excuse me, may I have a copy of that book, which I desperately desperately want, before it is released?” and then receive an actual copy of the book in the post. BEFORE IT IS OUT.
And yet:
Good, eh? I like this cover best – the American cover is a little too bluey and generic for me (generic but not spare like my copy is), and the British cover is too, I don’t know – I like it better than the American one, but slightly less than mine. See what you think:
American cover:
And the British one (I don’t like people on my book covers!):
A review is forthcoming. I have completely spoiled myself for this book (it’s okay! I like it that way!), and I am madly excited to see how the bare bones plot that I know about gets – er, I can’t think of a way to continue this metaphor without its being yucky. What I mean is, I’m excited to see how she manages it with the characters and everything. Until then, I will just let you know that this book is set in London near Highgate Cemetery, a place that is mainly of interest to me because of this Dorothy Parker gem:
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Buried all of his libretti;
Thought the matter over, then
Went and dug them up again.
That is a true story. Dorothy Parker did not make this story up. She did fail to mention the crucial point about this story, which is that Rossetti buried his poems WITH HIS DEAD WIFE in Highgate Cemetery, as a token of how sad he was that she had died. They were his only copies. It would have been quite a gesture had he not subsequently been like, Shit. I wanted those, and obtained permission to exhume her body and get them back. Oh, Rossetti, you wacky drug-addicted, wombat-obsessed grave-robber. Apparently (so says Wikipedia), he had put his poems all up in her long red hair, and he had to root around in her hair to extract them again.
Gross.
Thoughts on the covers? Other good grave-robbing/cemetery anecdotes?