Victorian Visual Culture

Designing book covers is an art form unto itself, and one that can have major consequences for the perception and sales for a book. For classics that have been republished dozens of times, this impact can be even more exaggerated as each new version seeks to capture a new audience. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde has received such treatment. While each cover contains exciting new renovations to an old property, there are also some enduring and revealing similarities across time and continent.

Some of the most popular covers come from the tradition of more abstract designs, featuring simple patterns behind the central title of the novel. The Penguin Clothbound Classics are a beloved example: the black and white feathers on Wilde’s text adhere to the design pattern of the entire clothbound collection, yet also feels particular to the work in question. The feathers speak to the material luxury that Dorian Gray indulges in, and exudes that same decadence to the audience. At the same time, it maintains a distance from a particular art style or recognizable time period in its simplicity. The book could arguably come from any time, and thus may be more approachable to new readers.

However, many publishers take a different approach. The Penguin Classics and Barnes and Noble editions go the complete opposite direction and cement themselves in the category of classic literature. The covers are understated, with only titles on plain backgrounds accompanied with portraits of young men. The paintings clue the reader in to its older publication date and appeal to a Victorian period tale. It also is possibly more faithful to the source material — the image on the front stands in as the titular picture.

There is a middle ground between these vintage and modern marketing styles that speaks to me most. Found in a few different covers, but most prominently in the Collins Classics edition, is a blending of style, simplicity and narrative relevance. The cover is almost exclusively white with thin black text, a very unassuming choice for a long-revered classic. But this lends the central image a shocking visual impact: a cropped section of a portrait, focused on the eye. The colors jump off the page, with the natural tones exaggerated into swathes of bright pink and dark red. The blue eye grabs the viewer’s attention immediately. Blue irises contrast with the surrounding colors while the gaze carries an unreadable expression. It follows the same logic of other editions that show their choice of portrait. But Collins avoids simple representation of plot for a much more interesting depiction of the narrative function of the portrait. For Dorian Gray, his lookalike gazes back at him with all of the evil, mockery, and contempt of the world. It haunts him day and night. Similarly, this cover looks back at the audience in a way that is indeterminately accusing and observing. It demands an answer to one’s own sins from the reader as well as Dorian.

There are many methods to illustration, and each new style can be effective in different ways. Personally, I have yet to see a cover design for The Picture of Dorian Gray that I have not liked. But the Collins edition proves that visuals can be more than just a marketing pitch — it can be a transformative part of the novel, and redetermine how one engages with the work itself.