Judging a Book by Its Cover

I have never been ashamed to admit that I am the kind of person who likes judge a book by its cover - here by "book", I do not mean metaphorically and I really mean "book" in its literal sense; and I don't see any wrongs in doing so. Why would any sensible author or publisher allow his/her book to be covered in something that evoke imaginations that run inconsistent with, contradictory or even contrary to its content? Surely there are cases where the cover, no matter how well-designed and beautifully crafted, falls short of doing justice to the brilliance promised by the content. That is fine, for a cover should only offer a glimpse to what is about to unfold; it is supposed to tantalize the casual reader's interest to uncover, to discover what lies ahead.

I recently bought three little books of the Great Ideas series from Penguin Books, two authored by John Ruskin and one Marcel Proust. My purchase was not prompted by the famous authorship, but rather, by their beautiful, dainty covers. The photo, constrained in its two-dimensional world, does not compare to softness in touch to the caressing fingers, and the fine, uneven texture - flowers and foliage are slightly bulging so that they seem more lively than usual. And the collective beauty, when over 20 book were displayed together on the shelves with their delicately varied and pleasing color palette, was quite extraordinary.  There are altogether 60 books in the collection, everyone of which is attractive; I wish I could own all some day, but for now three are quite satisfying.