Last month I re-read Dune, to prepare myself before watching the new film — and what a spectacle that was! It delivered on any possible level; the score, the images, ... epic!
Anyway, while still reading the novel, I decided to buy the second chapter of the series: Dune Messiah.
This post is a tale of trepidation, curiosity and, ultimately, disappointment. But first, a premise.

I am truly picky when it comes to books. Before buying one, especially when shopping online, I always make sure it is the right edition — paperback — and has a cover I like.
I prefer paperbacks to hardcovers: lighter, easier to read and to carry around.
I also prefer physical copies to e-readers because I feel the need for speed to caress the paper with my fingers, to feel its texture, to switch hands when the book starts weighing on my arm. I want to witness the small creases that start forming on its spine as I progress, the slight curving of the first and last pages, and the increase in volume as I turn the pages^[1]. Most importantly, though, I don't use an e-reader because I like collecting^[2] books, smelling them, staring at their covers and spines, and I cherish the ceremonial rite of adding new entries on the shelves.
Audiobooks? Heresy.

When I first contemplated reading Dune, back in 2019, I looked online for the available editions and found none that satisfied me. I especially remember the confusion I felt, caused by the italian versions having different titles than the ones I found on the series' Wikipedia page. I couldn't find a book titled just Dune. At that time, the film had not yet been released, nor had it even been announced, so it's possible that no edition of the first novel was being published and sold by italian booksellers. The simpler truth is that I gave up on the hunt too easily.
In March 2020 I went on a short trip to London with my sister. There I bought an illustrated edition of The Hobbit (the first Tolkien's book I have ever read in English), and a marvelous edition of Dune.

I love the cover design! This use of... negative space? No, this can't be the right word. You know what I mean, though, this... minimalist look, I like it.

When last week I browsed for Dune Messiah, I found a paperback edition that matched this design, with silhouettes cutting the backdrop to reveal the world behind.
Now, you can definitely understand the frustration I felt when I first laid my eyes on the book that I found in the mailbox.

I can't stress enough how I viscerally hate that sticker advertising the mAjOr MoTIoN PiCtUrE, and that line at the bottom quoting the Washington Post. Had I known of their presence I probably wouldn't have bought the book. Yes, I am that petty!
Not only they ruined the minimalism feel, they also tainted the book with impure sentences. Books are sacred. Books should not get mixed with cinema — which I love, don't get me wrong, I just wish publishers wouldn't take advantage of adaptations to sell more books, like they did with this fake sticker (had it been an actual sticker I could've attempted to remove it), or worse, when they release new editions with cover images taken from the film/show.
Also, all quotes from newspapers should be put on the back side, out of sight. Or, better yet, just stop quoting newspapers.

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1. I don't know how to better explain this phenomenon, but books seem to get larger as I read them. It's as if there's extra air caught between the pages after I've turned them for the first time. ↩︎

2. I am conflicted about using this term. The main — no, the only! reason why I buy books is because I want to read them. The "collecting" is just a consequence. ↩︎