Legs or snow always work quite well for me (though not usually together) and, in the main, my criteria can be summed up as follows: photographic rather than illustrated – unless it’s ‘quirky’ – and colour rather than black and white. I don’t mind something typographical, but anything that ‘looks’ too much like chick-lit, or too literary (i.e. too worthy), is unlikely to get a second glance. That means pastels are out, as is too much gold; anything overtly floral, and curly lettering – that’s generally a no as well. Legs are fine, as discussed, unless they have high heeled shoes attached, in which case, that’s probably a no, and a definite no if the shoes are red or pink.

Gloomy interiors are out, and – for some reason I can’t quite fathom – sweeping beach scenes ditto. Anything that looks like a still-life/oil painting/archive photo is pretty much immediately dismissed, unless it’s non-fiction, in which case different rules apply.

Of course, I’m being a little flippant here. I’m not quite that bad. (Well, I am, I guess, but it looks worse in print.) And there is a rationale of sorts behind my prejudice. To me, a book is something to enjoy as an object; it’s not just the words on the page, but the heft and weight and texture of it. As I browse the aisles, I’ll be picking up books to see how they feel in my hands, leafing through the pages, running my fingers over an embossed title here and there. (Yes, okay, I’m the weirdo in the corner stroking book jackets.) And appearance and aesthetics are both part of that: I want a book I like the feel of, and one I like the look of, too. I keep the books I’ve read and I’ll sometimes pull a particular volume down from a shelf, and flick through it, remembering when I bought it, or where I read it. The jacket is an important part of that, and I usually find cover and content are inseparable in my mind: I can picture most of my books and it’s from that image that the other memories come.

That said, I don’t think I’ve ever not bought a book I really wanted just because I didn’t like the way it looked, although I came close with What Was Lost by Catherine O’Flynn. Everything I read about it before publication convinced me I wanted to read the book itself. Then I saw the cover. In my mind, it’s a woman in a trench-coat, looking as if she’s about to board an aeroplane; in fact, you can’t tell it’s a trench-coat, and it’s not necessarily a plane. (It may even be a shopping centre, which would make much more sense, seeing as that’s where most of the story is set.) Whatever it is or isn’t meant to be, however, it did make me think I’d got the wrong book when I first saw it, and although I didn’t exactly cross it off my mental wish-list, it did end up somewhere near the bottom – until I talked to someone who convinced me it was worth a go, despite the cover. I’m so glad I listened: I loved this book, and read it pretty much in one sitting.

On the other hand, I have bought plenty of books that I’ve not yet read, solely because I liked their covers. Okay, so it’s books as art, rather than books for reading, but – who knows? – one day I might find the time to read them. And I might even like them. In the meantime, though, here – in no particular order – are a few books that earned their place on my shelves because of their covers alone. (And, yes, I know they’re all fiction; not sure why that is. And I know I said I liked photographic covers and these aren’t necessarily, but still . . . )

1. Red Tears by Joanna Kenrick



2. The Voyage Home by Jane Rogers

(I’m a Jane Rogers fan, so I have read this one, but it still counts because I specifically bought the US edition on the grounds that I preferred their cover to Little Brown’s – even though it’s not at all relevant to the book as far as I can see.)

3. Out by Natsuo Kirino



4. Snakes and Earrings by Hitomi Kanehara




5. Suicide Casanova by Arthur Nersesian

I’d love to know what others think. Do you have any book cover prejudices or preferences you’re willing to admit to?

[Sam Humphreys works at Picador]