Even book covers are bad. There seems to be some kind of unwritten rule that everyone on the front of a genre novel has to be striking an awkward pose. Here are a few concepts that every newbie learns in their first classes at AEMMA, but the illustrators of many book covers have yet to discover.
Violating the Pointy-End Rule
It’s an old cliché: The pointy end goes in the other guy. When you’re choosing a sword, why would you want one that’s liable to stab you in the hand every time you make a small-compass cut? Why would you want one you can’t even grip?
The Conan Grip
Pick up a sword, or even a stick, in two hands. Hold it just tightly enough that it doesn’t get away from you. Try swinging it around. (Be careful of the light fixtures.) Try whacking the couch a few times (assuming your weapon isn’t sharp). Notice the way your hands naturally line up on the hilt? If you were to straighten your index fingers, they would be at no more than ninety degrees to one another when the sword was close to your body and they’d be nearly parallel when your arms were extended. So why do the swords-folk on so many book covers have their hands pointing in completely opposite directions?
My theory is that it’s a result of too many artists copying the same heavily sexualized male poses. The awkward grip helps models pose for extended periods of time with their pecs and biceps flexed. This “Conan grip” is so ubiquitous that artists even depict their fully-clothed subjects employing it, probably because they just assume it’s how you should hold a sword. But try hitting something from that pose. How’s it working for you?
You can tell this artist was thinking of Conan. He even used the sword from the Arnold Schwarzenegger movies.
This pose is a side effect of the Conan grip. The strain on the pectorals and biceps makes the elbows creep upwards. This much tension in the upper body will shorten the swordsman’s range by as much as a foot.
If male models get posed with too much tension in their chests, women get posed with too much tension in their spines. When you’re fighting, your ass needs to stay under your tea kettle. That way, you don’t fall down when you move your feet.
This woman’s shoulders are actually behind her hips. As Jim Hines has hilariously demonstrated, the gratuitously sexualized poses of women on urban fantasy covers can range from the awkward to the physically impossible.
Improper Edge Alignment
After having designed an extravagant sword, artists really want you to admire their handiwork. As a result, they always position the blade with the flat side facing the viewer, even when the angle makes no sense in the context of the picture. The thing about swords is that you’re supposed to kill your enemies by striking them with the edge or stabbing them with the point. Slapping people with the flat doesn’t kill them; it just makes them angrier.
This artist decided to solve the problem by giving the blade a corkscrew twist.
Body Dysmorphic Behaviour
Baseball batters don’t make good models for swordspeople. They’re preparing to hit a ball aimed three feet away from them. Sword fighters are striking and/or parrying something directly ahead of them. Their hands should move directly from their shoulder or hip towards the target. If I’m standing in the path of the blow, there should be no daylight between their hands and their body. Some of the people on book covers seem to think their bodies are much wider than they really are.
Also, why are leather vambraces so fashionable in fantasyland? Believe me, a sharp sword will cut through those things like butter. Maybe the ones in this picture are supposed to be forearm guards for archery? It would explain why these left-handed swordsfolk are wearing them on their right arms.
Body mechanics dictate that a sword blow will tend to go in the direction that your leading foot is pointing, and it will be able to deliver the most force in that direction. Looking at the target you’re planning to hit is also helpful.
In what direction is this guy even supposed to be swinging? The cover cuts off his feet, but on the spine of the book you can see that his right foot is pointing towards his sword.
The Elizabethan swordsman George Silver coined the expression True Time. It means that, as a rule, your weapon should arrive at the fight before your face does. Stage fighting usually reverses this timing in order to give actors a longer opportunity to make emotional grimaces as they fight and so they can telegraph the impending blow. This timing allows the audience to follow the action and the recipient of the blow to react safely. Real swordsmen didn’t want their opponents to react safely: they wanted to them to get hurt.
More subtly, a forearm or hand that arrives at the fight ahead of your blade is also in danger of being cut.
Why does the swordsman on the left look so casual? Because he knows that his opponent’s gestures are just empty posturing until he steps into range.
Conversely, when two fencers are in a position to strike one another without moving their feet, and their weapons are not crossed, both fighters are going to be hit. An alternative title for this book could be Conan Loses his Cojones. Or possibly, Conan Gets Slapped With the Flat of the Blade.
What’s going on in the fight at the bottom of this cover? Who’s going to win that exchange?
The thing about swordplay is, it’s not like the flight of fairies or the conjuring of magic fireballs. It exists in the real world. There are plenty of pictures from historical fencing treatises and present-day action photos of Historical Eurpean martial artists on which to base an illustration. Why try to reinvent the art from scratch?