‘Tis the Time to Judge Books by Their Covers

I don’t believe in owning guns, but if I did, and I had one, I’d be sorely tempted to shoot the people who say to me right now: “Christmas shopping? I finished mine back in August.” True, there are four whole shopping days until Christmas, but it could take you that long just to park at the Beverly Center--and until New Year’s to remember where you left your car.

If the prospect of celebrating Christmas / Hanukkah / Kwanzaa all by yourself in a motor vehicle loaded down with shopping bags stuck behind the toll booth arm in a mall parking lot doesn’t thrill you, I have a suggestion: books. Books make great gifts because (a) they convey the impression that both giver and recipient are cultured, literate people who can use the word “epiphany” in a sentence, and (b) they’re flat and easy to wrap.

However, don’t get carried away thinking you can dash in, snatch up any convenient book that happens to be displayed near the cash register, buy it, wrap it and thrust it forth as a suitable present for anyone on your list. Here’s an epiphany for you: It’s probably not a good idea to give Seymour Hersh’s “The Dark Side of Camelot” to your 8-year-old niece, especially if she was hoping for “Misty of Chincoteague.”

On the other hand, maybe it is a good idea--that way, early on in life she can form a healthy distrust of people in power and of the sensation-mongering scavengers who seek to exploit them long after their deaths. And if she’s lucky she won’t grow up to be Seymour Hersh and make the mistake of falling for a bunch of phony JFK letters.

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So, what to do, what to do? You obviously can’t read all the books--the success of this scheme depends on your ability to make split-second decisions in an overheated environment, not unlike the indoor pool at the White House. Well, Kennedy got through the Cuban missile crisis, and you can get through this.

You’re just going to have to do something your mother told you never to do. Yes, Virginia, you can judge a book by its cover. Go boldly forth into the bookstore of your choice. Pick up a book and assess it. Sniff it, if you must. And if anything, and I mean anything, about the cover art, jacket copy or author photo sets off warning bells in your head, put it down again. Pick up another book--maybe from a different table--and start over.

(For instance, just for me, personally, books with author photos where the author posed holding his or her pet are always to be avoided, unless the book is actually about pets, in which case I might make an exception.)

Don’t be shy. Don’t bother reading to the end of every sentence. When that buzzer in your head goes off, listen to it. It’s a bell that tolls for thee.

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Some may object that this system is biased. That’s the whole point of it. It’s meant to be biased. It’s meant to save you and those on your gift list a lot of unnecessary pain and standing in line to return things. All I can say is, it works for me.

The exception that proves the rule was when I purchased, as a gift for my college English professor, a slim volume entitled “My Eyes Have a Cold Nose,” under the impression that it was a book of surrealist poetry. It turned out to be a biography of a seeing-eye dog. My professor, who was so near-sighted as to be almost legally blind and who had an aversion to dogs, took it as a personal insult and gave me a C-plus on the mid-term. My fault. I should’ve checked the author photo.

Herewith, some examples:

“Crosshatchings,” by Timothy Vanderhook. The carefully etched story of a sensitive young gay man’s coming of age amid his dysfunctional family in Pittsbur--BRRRNG!

“Love Is Where You Find It,” by L.M. Kirkland. This Midwestern housewife thought love was a thing of the past until she met the brooding tight-jeans-wearing best-selling author and poet who took shelter in her barn to escape his fans. Brims with all the romance and longing you’ve ever dreamed of over Cinnamon Continental Coffee. This book will change your--BRRRNG!

“Growing Up Twisted on TV,” by Donnie Meekins. A former second alternate Mouseketeer reveals what Walt--BRRRNG!

“Golf, Golf and More Golf,” by Martin Cosgrove. The story of one self-confessed duffer’s extended odyssey around the globe by way of the world’s best golf--BRRRNG!

“Why Should I Be Happy When I Feel So Miserable?,” by Dr. Toni Secord. A tender, oft-times humorous, always insightful exploration of those “down” times everyone experiences when--BRRRNG!

“Wrapped in an Enigma,” by Percy Englehart. An in-depth analysis of the current Russian political-economic situation by a former State Department insider. Profusely illustrated with full-color graphs and flow charts, this 738-page compendium is a must-read for anyone who wants exhaustive coverage of--BRRRNG!

“Dear Elton . . .” A moving tribute to Elton John in the form of letters from ordinary people who want to tell him how moved they were by his moving tribute to the most popular princess since Princess SummerFallWinterSpring. A revised second printing, “Dear Sir Elton,” is already in the works for--BRRRNG!

“Cousins,” from the best-selling authors of “Sisters and More Sisters”; “Moms and Their Kids” and “Oh, Brothers!” A stunningly evocative compilation that summons up cousinhood in all its joys and--BRRRNG!

“The Horses Who Talked to the Man Who Listens to Horses,” as told to famed psychic and part-time horse trainer Cari Robbins. This story of the real-life “horse whisperer” straight from the horse’s--BRRRNG!

Of course, all of these books are entirely fictional. None of them actually exists. But if they did, I wouldn’t buy them, nor any books that they might, purely coincidentally, happen to resemble, and neither should you. Happy holidays!

* Anne Beatts is a writer who lives in Hollywood.