Not for a minute do I believe our process for selecting covers is unique. Here at Canon, it’s a collaboration of ideas. We have two talented graphic artists on staff, David Dalbey and Rachel Hoffmann. They each come to Canon with a suitcase filled with different skills and abilities. Laura Blakey won’t admit it, but the woman has mad graphic design skills. Most importantly, the concepts they each form in their brains are completely different. Add to that the unbelievable talent of Mark LaMoreaux with his camera…and the sky is the limit.

Whether an old book is getting a new cover, or a new book is getting its first cover, the process is the same. The first thing we determine is what the author is trying to communicate. If the book is titled Flying Pigs, but the content is about “things that ain’t gonna happen,” we make every effort to avoid putting a graphic of a flying pig on the cover. That’s too easy. (more…)

“[These talks] could easily be regarded, together, as a ‘Blenheim Manifesto’—a three-talk description of and agenda for the display and implementation of the total rule of the Lord Jesus Christ in all of life. Get hold of these and listen carefully to them all the way through—the argument of the talks (individually and as a series) is compelling and exhilarating.”
—Dr. David Field (read more here)

The following guest post has been adapted from an original post from Dr. David Field’s blog on 10 February 2008. David lives and lectures in London and will be returning to speak at this year’s Trinity Fest (on Great Cities of the Bible). To view the rest of the post and visit his blog, click here. To download the talks, click here.

The Blenheim Manifesto
We had a splendid afternoon at Blenheim Palace yesterday, hearing three
lectures from Doug Wilson on

• The Gospel and Your Church
• The Gospel and Your Family
• The Gospel and Your Government

The talks will be available from Canon Press as The Blenheim Lectures before long but, as in the title of this post, they could easily be regarded, together, as a “Blenheim Manifesto”—a three-talk description of and agenda for the display and implementation of the total rule of the Lord Jesus Christ in all of life. Get hold of these and listen carefully to them all the way through—the argument of the talks (individually and as a series) is compelling and exhilarating. Here are a few snippets to give a taste:

(more…)

It’s been just over a week and two countryside moves, and our customer service is new for spring. Faith, who many of you have no doubt chatted with over the last year, has moved home to Texas, her family, and a cute new apartment (with a red corduroy couch), conveniently only blocks from her adorable nephew. She’ll be going to school to become an ultrasound technician, which we think is such a perfect fit!

And right as she was heading out, Emily was arriving, direct from Maine. Emily lived in Moscow a few years ago, and we hope she’s back to stay! She’s only been at Canon a week, but she’s a natural. Seriously. Sure, we have a lot of ground still to cover—does she say the “t” in “often”, play any instruments, like Turkish delight, drink the colored milk after eating Fruit Loops? Feel free to ask her next time you call. (And we’ll try to hurry up and get her picture up on the ‘About Us’ page. Feel free to bug us about that too.)

Although I wrote this for a class at NSA, it really has nothing to do with any classes. When I was in Pompeii, I could see over the broken fences and iron bars, I could see some special mosaics and a gazebo. Maybe these were special because they were closed, but I like to think otherwise. So a Pompeii poem it is:

Gnostic floods now roar inside, but not in
paths of sacred reconstructions,
closed for sorry amutations.
Iron bars stand here, a gate that’s wooden, rotten.
Now, where thousands used to sit or wander
through the fields in afternoons or
drag their groceries past this eyesore,
Pompeii’s bars have taken all her thunder.
Locked behind this fat façade, you only
look where glass gazebos hide their
colored chips in walls of brick, where
crumbling stones can leave the beauty lonely.
Genius, not for human eyesight’s feasting.
Ruins meant for those that scurry
grounded. Lizards, not in hurry,
walk alone in silence, Pompeii praising.