Judging a book by its cover
Rachel Hoffman at North by Northwestern judges “Atlas Shrugged” — and its author — by its cover.
While Hoffman spends considerable time critiquing Ayn Rand’s signature and portrait on the back of the tome, Hoffman notes what’s conspicuously missing from the original cover of “Atlas Shrugged” — the image of Atlas that has become synonymous with the book.
Hoffman writes:
In truth, I was so distracted by Rand’s pensive melancholic expression that, at first, I paid little attention to the front cover of Atlas Shrugged. The cover art is from the original publishing by Random House Inc., in 1957. Alas dear friends, the first question that plagued my mind was: “Where is Atlas?” The front cover at first appears to be a barrage of chalky hues, the title like thick strips of white beach islands in a misty sea of Crayola colors. But I focus my eyes and discern that where I do not find the hunched muscular pillar of Atlas, there is an abstract picture of a train charging forth from a tunnel. At least, I believe it to be a train, though there are only reflective train tracks, a small geometric tunnel and a large red circle whose borders fade to blurred purples, blues and greens. Is this the skewed headlight of the impending machine? Where is its body? The disembodied train light is just as frightening as it is alluring to me. Where are its passengers? Where is it from? Where is it going?
If you don’t look closely enough at the original cover of Atlas Shrugged, the thick wash of color can mesmerize and disorient you. It’s beautiful in an ominous way. The sinking dark tunnel, alerting the bright red of the train light, and looming dark mountains overarching the scene — will I open this book and never come out?
Will you never come out? Well, not the same way you went in.
