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Judging books by their covers,
How to Breathe Underwater I often look at designs and see that something is off: something’s out of balance, something’s out of proportion, something’s out of its element. I don’t often feel, however, that the designer intended it that way. For whatever reason it just happened; either the designer didn’t know better, or the client didn’t, or both, and the result is that the design is out of whack for no good reason. With this cover, pretty much everything is off: the title doesn’t fit well in its box; the box is oddly placed over the photograph; the box is strangely shaped; the rest of the type doesn’t seem to conform to any sort of layout grid; and the three type elements are erratically spaced from each other. I’ve been trying to figure out why I like it so much. Start with the photograph. What looks like an idyllic moment of childhood is undone by the perspective: one girl is far from shore, and swimming even farther away. The separation of the girl in the foreground from the two in the background communicates some sense of exclusion and loneliness. That everything else is off just heightens the tension. The title is imposing; with its odd shape and precarious positioning (it shouldn’t be that close to the girl, and it probably shouldn’t be that stark, either), the designer forces you to keep looking at it. Though the title so simply stated, what it seems to say is that you have to learn how to survive situations that, if you don’t know how to handle them, will kill you. It’s one of those rare, wonderful times where I feel that everything has been placed just so, completely intentionally. The best part, I think, is that everything about it is so subtle, which makes the tension that much more menacing. You just know something bad is going to happen in this book. Judgment: I’m not sure what to make of that line of dots, but I’m sure the designer intended something by it. I’m just going to leave it at that.
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