Maybe because Good Reads would not have it!
Some book covers whisper poetry, some invite quiet reverence, and some slap you in the face with a divine laser beam of overcooked Photoshop glow. Sonnets of the Bible falls firmly into the last category. Instead of feeling like we’re entering a space of poetic devotion, we’re blinded by what looks like the aftereffects of God Himself installing floodlights directly behind a stock photo cross. This isn’t grace; this is an eye-searing holy supernova.
And then there are the fonts. Oh, the fonts. “Sonnets of the Bible” floats up top in what can only be described as “church bulletin chic,” the kind of typeface you’d find on a half-fold pamphlet about upcoming bake sales. The subtitle “The Complete Series” looks like it was added as an afterthought—like the designer suddenly remembered, Oh right, it’s not just sonnets, it’s ALL the sonnets. And finally, down at the bottom, poor Trent Karlsson’s name has been slapped in what I assume was an attempt at “ancient gravitas.” Instead, it’s the typographic equivalent of Comic Sans showing up in a choir robe.
Then there’s the imagery. An altar. A glowing Bible. A cross exploding with radiant power like the grand finale of a WWE entrance. It’s not reverence, it’s spectacle. It’s the kind of cover that makes you wonder if the book is poetry or the missing eleventh commandment: Thou shalt not overuse Shutterstock assets. The whole thing feels less like “sonnets” and more like the poster for an action-packed Dan Brown knockoff, complete with booby-trapped cathedrals and Gregorian monks chanting over EDM beats.
If the idea was to convey quiet, poetic reflection, this cover sprinted in the opposite direction screaming “Michael Bay presents: The Psalms.” What we’ve got here is not biblical poetry—it’s biblical pyrotechnics.
Verdict: Holier than thou? Maybe. Holier than decent design? Absolutely.