They say don’t judge a book by its cover, but Tenacity: Hoot on the Appalachian Trail practically begs for it—mostly because the cover already looks like it gave up halfway up the mountain.
Let’s get this out of the way: this is not a cover—it’s a screensaver. A deeply uninspired, glow-saturated stock photo of a man hiking into the woods, presumably in search of a better font. The sun flare dead centre is so aggressive it feels like the design is trying to blind us before we can question its choices. If this is supposed to represent resilience and triumph, it’s doing it in the least compelling way possible: by smothering the viewer in genericism.
The title “TENACITY” appears in a large, grassy green font that screams eco-grit meets WordArt revival. It’s bold, sure, but not in a good way—more like it’s yelling at you from the cover of a self-published workbook you find in the “New Thought” section of a forgotten bookstore. And then comes the subtitle: Hoot on the Appalachian Trail. Hoot. On. The. Appalachian. Trail. The whimsical potential of this line dies instantly under the weight of its robotic sans-serif suit. It could’ve been charming. It could’ve had soul. Instead, it’s laid out like a high school project on wilderness safety.
But wait, there’s more! The author credits are tacked on at the bottom like a sad footnote, complete with the dreaded “WITH” line—because nothing screams design excellence like hierarchy confusion. The names float there like lost hikers themselves, stranded in a vast forest of apathy.
The real crime here, though, is that the cover has no idea what it’s trying to say. Is this a motivational memoir? A folksy travel journal? A book about owls? A nature therapy guide co-authored by someone’s supportive spouse? We may never know. Because instead of signalling anything about tone, content, or style, this cover defaults to visual beige.
Tenacity doesn’t just lack design—it lacks nerve. It’s the type of cover you’d expect from someone who heard the word “branding” once and decided to go full stock photo and vibes. It’s not offensively bad—it’s worse. It’s forgettable. It’s the literary equivalent of trail mix without the chocolate.
If this hiker is heading into the woods to find purpose, let’s hope he finds a graphic designer while he’s at it. Because Tenacity didn’t hike the Appalachian Trail—it tripped over Canva and landed in a design rut it couldn’t climb out of.