Separate, Not Equal

An It's Complicated! — Book Covers guest post by author Coe Booth.

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Coe Booth

Like most writers I’m always a little — okay, a lot! — nervous about what my book covers will look like. After spending so much time writing the books, the fact that the cover image is out of my control leads to a great deal of anxiety. However, I was pleasantly surprised and happy when I saw the cover of my first novel Tyrell.

I really thought the photo of a teenage boy looking out onto his neighborhood would attract the attention of the audience I had in mind when I was writing the book — teenagers, especially boys, who don’t usually find a book that speaks to them. And I’ve since heard from lots of teens who tell me that it was the cover that initially drew them to the book.

The thing I never imagined was that the cover (and the covers of my subsequent books) might create an automatic ghettoization of my work.

I can’t tell you how many libraries I’ve been to where my books are not even shelved in the mainstream YA section. They are relegated to the shelf labeled “Street Lit” where the books about black people live. The same is true in some bookstores where a black person on a book cover means it’s no longer YA; it’s “Urban Fiction”.

I’m here to tell you, when it comes to books, segregation is alive and well in America.

Obviously, while I’m not in love with the terms “Street Lit” or “Urban Fiction,” I’ve come to accept — very reluctantly — that my books will be shelved there. But I really, really mind when my books are only shelved there. It’s so frustrating to know that my readership is being limited this way, that only those actively seeking “urban” books will find them, that there’s no chance of somebody just stumbling across one of my books on the shelves and deciding to give it a try.

And I think a book’s cover has a lot to do with these shelving decisions. Perhaps there’s something about a photo of a black boy in braids or a black girl looking at a playground that makes people think this can’t possibly be mainstream fiction. Personally, I don’t understand that. And I don’t understand why this problem seems to be more common in YA fiction than in books for children or adults.

I do know that as an author who would like my books to have as wide an appeal as possible, it’s upsetting to know that my books are sometimes being treated as second-class citizens, and not because of its content but because of the cover image.

Another consequence of having a black person on the cover of a book is that, inevitably, it will be used as part of a Black History Month display in a library or school, regardless of whether the book has anything to do with black history at all. It makes me wonder if anyone even bothers reading the books. Sigh.

These problems aside, every time I see a new book with a black or brown child on the cover, I’m happy. When I was growing up, there were so few books about kids who looked like me, and very few of them were contemporary. Kids and teens today have so many more choices, and I’d like to see even more in the coming years. 

I just hope those books will be accessible and discoverable by everyone!