book review – 30,000 years of art
They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but this remains to be the one guiding principle I use when selecting a new book to read. For some time now I’ve been on a real McSweeney’s kick based on this factor alone. They put more effort into the packaging of a book than most any other publisher I’ve seen, aside from those wacko monks that used to toil away on illuminated manuscripts for years on end. Sometimes I don’t even read them; I just like to touch, feel, and wonder how to stack another totally disproportionate book on my shelves. Here’s another book I don’t care to read at all, but I’d gladly use it as a decorative fixture on my coffee table. Not that I have a coffee table, because I don’t, but if I did, I could see this paperweight taking front and center. Mainly because it’s just so amazing that after “30,000 years of art” this book’s designer didn’t see anything typographically wrong with butting up the word “of” with “art,” which leads me to believe: a) they have a lazy eye; b) they are of Irish descent and nipped a wee bit o’ the whiskey whilst sleeping on the job; c) Guy Grand is alive, well, and still fucking shit up; or d) Dave Carnie is moonlighting again.
Good job, Phaidon Press (and Johnny Knoxville for bringing this book to my attention)!
