Some covers whisper their themes, some declare them boldly, and some—like Wolf Moon—sprint into Photoshop at midnight, screaming “throw everything in and we’ll sort it out later.” Spoiler: they did not sort it out later.
Front and center we’ve got a dog pile of sled dogs—except these poor pups look like they were cut from three different stock catalogs and plopped onto the same flat, maroon carpet of doom. Snow? Nah. These dogs are standing on something that looks suspiciously like melted Play-Doh. Their lighting doesn’t match, their edges are jagged, and their expressions all say the same thing: “Help, we don’t belong here.”
But don’t worry, looming above it all is the Wolf Moon itself—literally. Instead of the classic glowing full moon, we’re treated to a giant teal orb with a wolf’s head shoved into it, like the ghost of Clipart Past is haunting the night sky. It’s not majestic. It’s not mysterious. It’s giving 1998 Windows screensaver energy. And as if that weren’t enough, a random hawk emblem floats in the corner, like a forgotten sticker someone couldn’t peel off.
Then there’s the tent. A sad, gray, sagging tent squats in the background like a Walmart storage tarp. It doesn’t add suspense, it doesn’t add wilderness atmosphere—it just sits there, looking cold, damp, and deeply embarrassed to be on the cover.
And let’s not forget the typography. Wolf Moon is typed out in a bland, oversized font that looks like it was pulled from a Word doc header. Meanwhile, PATY JAGER dominates the bottom in towering letters, practically yelling at the sled dogs to stop fidgeting.
The result? Absolute chaos. Spirit wolf screensaver, sad tarp tent, dog collage from three universes—it’s all here, fighting for attention. Wolf Moon doesn’t look like a mystery novel. It looks like a high school art project titled “My Spirit Animal Journey,” submitted five minutes before class.