What can we learn by comparing the old and new covers of Left Behind? 4

It’s unlikely that you haven’t heard of the Left Behind series of Christian fiction. Since 1995, the epic, 12-book apocalyptic fantasy series written by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins has sold more than 63 million copies in many languages. According to the official Left Behind website, it’s the “bestselling Christian fiction series in history.” LaHaye and Jenkins have been both criticized for writing anti-semitic, racist, and misogynistic positions in to the fabric of the plot and lauded for their articulate characterization people as they learn to accommodate faith into their lives.

That being said, when the series’ publisher, Tyndale, rolls out a drastic redesign of the novels, the changes have moral, political, commercial, and spiritual dimensions. Let’s take a look and compare the old and new covers from each title in the Left Behind series, drawing some conclusions about the aesthetic and theological decisions along the way.

Left Behind imagines the end of the world through a dispensational premillennialist lens: A mini-rapture of souls kicks off years of earthly tribulation, the rise of the antichrist, and the struggle for humanity’s salvation. In the first novel, pilot and protagonist Rayford Steele struggles to make sense of a post-rapture world, one in which millions of people spiritually unready for their ascent to heaven are left to ponder their faith; at the same time, a succession of geopolitical events usher in the antichrist’s reign over the earth. These two narratives are key to understanding the new art direction of Left Behind.

An antique globe, spun toward the Middle East, sits roundly on the cover of the introductory novel’s first edition. This image speaks to the geopolitical shifts imagined in the first book–implementation of a global currency, formation of a comprehensive transnational government, and war against Israel. In other words, these times they are a-changin’, and swiftly at that. Nothing too outre for a conspiracy theorist. In contrast, a photograph of a jet airplane is plastered across the cover of the new version, evoking a bewildered Rayford Steele, trying to make sense of the unexpected disappearance of millions of people. Based on subject, the covers’ focus shifts from broad social currents to narrow personal transformations. Worldwide apocalyptic narratives in the new edition, we might assume, take a back seat to the individual’s treatment of their own spiritual condition.

Is it easier to imagine the apocalypse in our own world or in a fantastical sci-fi universe? Answers to that question are likely different for everyone, based on their own religious beliefs and imaginary capacity. I mentioned before that the new covers are photorealistic, whereas the old covers are often supernatural illustrations. Meteors rocket past the moon on the old cover of Tribulation Force, while young soldiers await battle perched atop tank artillery on the new cover. Photography bases the plot of Left Behind more firmly in our own universe, rather than a fictional one–a simple image gives a shred of credence to the unbelievable story. Ours is a time steeped in apocalypticism–with wracking earthquakes and failing reactors, with 2012 right around the corner–thus making it harder for one particular eschatology to stand out from the next. When LaHaye and Jenkins first published in 1995, they had the only game in town. That’s no longer the case.

Interestingly, both Tribulation Force covers have a lot of potential energy. The meteors on the original are just waiting to plummet through earth’s atmosphere; the tank gun is ready to blast ammunition. Both covers convey anticipation and anxiety, but not in the same way. Anxiety of destruction haunts the first edition cover, anticipation of combat surges in the second. Where the first resigns to helplessness, the second encourages agency. Catastrophe is coming, and you better be ready to kick its ass. Is this a time-altered stance toward tribulation for fundamentalist Christianity? Although I’ve no data to back up my claim, in combo the photographic and empowered elements of the new cover seem to suggest that hardline Christians stress a more proactive outlook on the end times.

Nicolae’s new cover is, to me, the most intriguing of the dozen for the way the antichrist is characterized. Cast in purple moonlight on the third installment’s original cover, antichrist Nicolae holds his countenance with the gravitas of an intellectual or visionary. His moral mettle is ambiguous, his vision of the future clouded by subterfuge. But he’s the antichrist–he’s supposed to be smarmy, charming, you know, the Great Deceiver. Not so, post-redesign. Nicolae version 2.0 pictures an older antichrist behind a microphone at a press conference, flanked by photographers. Rather than an rogue idealist with more gusto than guile, Left Behind presents the antichrist as a mitigator, a bamboozler, a veteran bureaucrat. Government wariness has been running high lately, especially among conservative Christians, making an institution-hack the perfect existential bogeyman. (Update: Chatter and Verse’s Nickel Plug had an intriguing, similar interpretation of the new cover of Nicolae: “It’s notable to me that the only body part of Nicolae Carpathia featured on the cover of Nicolae is his ear.  What’s Barack Obama’s most prominent physical feature (other than his skin)?  That’s right, his ears!”)

One last thing. With its glitzy overtones, the new cover for Nicolae shows how crucial the mass media has become for message control. That’s the optimistic gloss. More cynically, you might interpret the new cover as suggesting that the “liberal media” is a star-struck tool of the antichrist.

Perspective is key when thinking about the covers of Soul Harvest. Consider the old version: A mob of zombie-like remnants lurch from one side of the book to the other. It’s fairly impersonal–the reader gets to sit back and watch the pathetic rabble from a distance. On the contrary, you join the crowd on Soul Harvest’s updated cover. This builds a mutual identification between the nonfictional reader and the fictionally left-behind. Presumably the target market for this series is someone anxious over their own soul’s salvation. By placing that demographic among the unraptured, Soul Harvest’s new cover may work to strengthen the reader’s religious conviction. Presented with the possibility of being passed over by God the first go-round, even a faithfully disposed Christian reader would question whether their devotion is ratcheted up to the necessary, apocalypse-dodging level.

Thematically, I’d say the two covers for Apollyon are quite similar: Tribulation and punishment are pictured in the recognizable imagery of locust swarms and spewing magma. To some extent, the vehicle of destruction matters little. Each plague or disaster will cull a third of the world’s number, or boil a third of the world’s oceans, and so on. So let’s take a little diversion.

You’ll notice in Apollyon’s old cover that the moon looms over the volcanic eruption. It’s not the moon’s first nor last appearance on the old dust jackets. What’s more, just three of the old covers lack a circle or orb shape, whereas the new set only has a circle in three images (two of which are a bit of a stretch). From a design perspective, circles convey a sense of order and completeness–they feel whole, confident, and premeditated. LaHaye and Jenkins may have been trying to reassure that there was a defined order to revelation, an understandable plot–they were, you know, trying to articulate what will happen when the end times are upon man. But a drastic change is evident in the redesign.

Look back over the covers–they’re chaotic and violent, laden with potential energy and fear. Apollyon shows a pandemonic insects; Left Behind’s jet liner seems out of grasping range and quickly leaving; a guillotine on The Mark is poised to sever understanding, not complete it. It’s unlikely that LaHaye and Jenkins have lost confidence in their apocalyptic telling, so something else must be motivating the change. My guess is two-pronged: first, the new covers are more action-packed and will probably sell better in the dying book market, and second, the new art direction inspires fear. I’m sure the authors don’t want the flock scared shitless–but a little spooked might do.

Our discourse is consistently marred by anti-Islamic rhetoric and imagery, and it’s a shame that the new cover of Assassins follows that mode. To be fair, the original cover picturing a crosshair aimed at Jerusalem wasn’t exactly politically correct. Now the al-Aqsa mosque, brightly lit under the book’s title, looms like an oppressive monolith. The juxtaposition of words and imagery looks malicious to these eyes.

(A little bit of background. The al-Aqsa mosque, alternatively called The Dome of the Rock, is a sticky point for evangelicals in the Left Behind circle. Historically, al-Aqsa sits atop the foundation of the Jewish Temple. In order for the entire rapture-second-coming-of-Christ-salvation-of-humanity scenario to play out, the mosque needs to be removed (read: destroyed) and the Temple rebuilt. That’s one nugget explaining anti-Muslism racism among some fundamentalist Christians. Consequently, this theology also must necessarily turn Jews into tools of Christians.)

Here’s another cover featuring everybody’s favorite antichrist. Spoiler alert: In The Indwelling, Nicolae’s assassinated body is encased in glass so that people may not forget their beloved (by now) leader. More naughty worship ensues as Nicolae’s followers erect a statue in his likeness, which is quickly possessed by the antichrist’s soul. Okay, spoilers over. With that info, we can see that the theme of The Indwelling’s covers is idolatry. The original cover shows Nicolae’s body in it’s transparent coffin, while the new shows a silhouette of the statue. Unstoppable power and veiled ambition–Nicolae’s specialties–are clear in the redesign, and ultimately make The Indwelling’s new cover a more effective, better representation of the character.

The Beast rules the world the series’ eighth installment, The Mark. Let’s take stock: What do we know of the antichrist, or shall we say His Excellency Global Community Supreme Potentate Nicolae Carpathia, so far? Most importantly, he has been clever, charming, and not exactly forthright about his goals. That all changes when he claims dominion over the Earth. An epoch of subterfuge gives way to an epoch of bloodshed–perfectly illustrated by The Mark’s guillotine cover. In short, Nicolae decrees that the remaining global citizens must have the mark of the beast inscribed on their body and worship him or face execution. Obviously, this amounts to a spiritual and existential crisis for Christianity’s remaining faithful. On the new cover, the author’s names lie right below the business end of the guillotine’s blade. “We’d be on the chopping block with you,” the letter placement seems to suggest.

With Desecration, the art direction for once shifts the focus away from Nicolae to the devastation he hath wrought. (Apologies, I seem to have slippeth into Biblical suffixery.) Dead fish carcasses bobbing in blood-red water have a faceless, malicious quality. Apocalyptic agency is less clear, but its reach more so in the new version of the cover. It pulls the blame (slightly) away from the antichrist, and leaves room to question who is actually at fault for past and future desecration.

Not a whole lot to say about this one, except that the original cover says next to nothing about the novel’s plot. So, as I did earlier, let’s take a scenic route.

I mention that some of the covers reflect a new relationship between the individual and the media. Mass media is now a ubiquitous presence in our lives. That fact worked it’s way into the aesthetic treatment of the the new batch of covers. Notice how the images have a sort of horizontal striation–black lines that don’t really distort or obscure the image, but give it a digital look. It’s as if we’re watching the apocalypse’s timeline unfold on cable news, from behind a laptop, or in a movie theater chair.

Armageddon is often mistaken as the apocalypse, but in scripture it is better understood as the Messiah vs. Satan battle at the end of the tribulation period. Left Behind certainly modernized the eleventh book’s cover. Originally it relied on medieval warfare and New Testament symbolism. Four warhorses charge on the old version’s cover–evoking images of a feudal skirmish and, at the same time, the four horsemen of the apocalypse. On the contrary, a super-tech combat copter evades a billowing explosion on Armageddon’s new cover. The terms of combat have changed it seem.

The new cover reflects an interesting artistic and editorial choice on the part of LaHaye and Jenkins. One might assume–with the Rapture and pestilence and global disarray and all–that the infrastructure required to build, maintain, and implement tech-heavy weaponry like a helicopter gunship would be all but forgotten. Wouldn’t we be fighting our last fight against Satan wielding nothing but sticks and stones (literally and figuratively)? I think the authors’ choice speaks to their understanding of the antichrist’s complex, impossible character–his ability to help mankind thrive as he leads it to its own destruction.

We come at last to Glorious Appearing, the final installment of Left Behind. First, note that of the old covers, Glorious Appearing is the only one to sport a white background. The symbolic gesture can be easily read: the novel ushers in the reign of Christ and the successful rapture of the faithful. The original image is fairly abstract, unlike the new version of the cover. Again bringing the apocalypse to recognizable reality, LaHaye and Jenkins offer a view of the Heaven similar to Earth, rainbow and all.

Remember how I was harping about circles before? Well, the rainbow on the new cover of Glorious Appearing is more or less a fully formed circle. Order has been restored after much tribulation and suffering. The story is complete and peace is on the land.