Shame upon the both of you! Ignoring the poor girl and her plight! Where’s your humanity? All you want to do is ogle her firm breasts and perky nipples. (Okay, so yes I can see the unsheeped image, but that’s not the point)
Back stage right…is that a phallic rock formation? Or is it another crashed space ship, of the same make, model and colour? If it’s the latter, then perhaps this isn’t the safest place to fly and/or land on the planet, I’d think.
I think I now know all I need to about Marion Zimmer Bradley’s psychic landscape. Good to see that even a self-described “feminist” author can appreciate the sales bump provided by a little good ol’ patriarchal T & A.
@DSWBT – if those are identical spaceships crash-landed identically then that can mean only one thing; there is a nubile naked space wench sitting next to each crashed ship admiring her jewel in the sun.
I propose they all get together and……form a support group. Not that they’d wear one..
I thought I might have to spam the other commentators and try to get a replacement (English/American) site up and running, so we could have our daily fix of bad cover design.
@ Tom, the internet might be omnipotent and omnipresent, but it’s also at times quite ethereal. Maybe I should say—for future visitors to this page—that GSS has just today, returned from what we believe was an unexpected sabbatical.
Was it caused by the diabolical work of our ‘Friends’ at the Chinese GSS website?
Didn’t mean to offend with my feminist remark. I guess its inappropriateness caused the site to blush and crash. It is rather clunky on rereading. I do understand that authors have little to say about their cover art, generally, but twice? Is it fair to point out this irony? Maybe, maybe not. Well, she wrote, she was a dedicated scrivener, she doesn’t deserve cheap shots, even if the cover begs for them. R.I.P. Ms. Bradley; apologies.
@ GSS Admin. Your comment about cake and orange juice brought back memories of the (self-service) breakfast bar at the Royal York in Toronto circa 1990. I have to admit to the guilty Schadenfrude I felt watching my English colleagues trying to cook crumpets in an old American style “bread only” toaster. Some finally resorted to placing the crumpets over the slots and hoping some heat might make it into the dough. I never could get them to develop a liking for good old dried-out and tasteless American “English Muffins”– not that those fit any better, but at least you could eat them raw.