I think that there is a disconnect in communication regarding whether one is talking about a cover-aka-dust-jacket (clothes, hair-do, and other transitory accessories) and the actual cover of heavy cardboard, flimsy paper, leather, or some other durable material (feet, hands, general physique, facial expressions, and other features of the body).

Neither one is necessarily an accurate preview of the contents (character and ability), but that’s all we have until we really get to know someone, and even then we can be wrong — as witnessed by the number of people who have been cast off by their close friends, relatives, buddies, even spouses, because of voting Republican or (gasp!!) supporting President Trump — an action that so often comes out of nowhere based on the characteristics they thought they knew.

And let’s don’t even talk about the bookshelves holding the sociopaths and such who deliberately flourish fake covers, inaccurate blurbs, and misleading text.

Ammo Grrrll’s latest column has an interesting anecdote – sometimes the cover is just a “new! improved! more fashionable!” dust jacket, and the contents are pretty much the same
Speaking of her BFF since middle school or before —
https://www.powerlineblog.com/archives/2022/08/thoughts-from-the-ammo-line-441.php

We had the same sense of humor and were Mad Magazine fanatics. We were both crazy obsessive readers. And of an analytical bent. I’ll give you an example of our Sherlock Holmesian analysis at the tender age of 14:

Ladiehawke: So did you see Brian at his locker?

Susan: Yes! I casually lurked in the vicinity of his locker from 6:30 a.m. until class started at 8:00 and I ran into him!

Ladiehawke: Did he say hi?

Susan: Yes! Wait til you hear! He said hi AND today for the first time he also said, “Susan.” Do you think this means he likes me? “Hi, Susan!” my heart is still racing.

Ladiehawke: Hi AND your name? Oh, yeah, that’s a very good sign.

Susan: Do you think we will get married?

Ladiehawke: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Maybe a date first?

Susan: Okay, you’re probably right. So who would you rather go out with – Dr. Kildare or Ben Casey? (This, of course was decades before we learned that Dr. Kildare was gay.)

And so on. We were all about “analysis.” In the same way the Climatistas are all about “Science,” just not the Scientific Method where you have reproducible results.

Skip forward 30, 40 years:

…once when I was working nightshift in a printshop, a couple of us went out for “lunch” at an Uptown Minneapolis Dunkin’ Donuts at 3:30 a.m. (Now, you’d be killed, but this was the early ’80’s). I was seated in an uncomfortable plastic booth (to discourage lingering), having a nutritious lunch of several donuts, some of them chocolate frosted for the magnesium. As it happened, I was facing in the opposite direction from the teenagers behind us. I could not see them but I could hear them. And I swear there was almost an exact replica of the above conversation about stalking the fella I fancied.

As I left, I turned to look at the young women – half expecting to see knee socks and penny loafers and white blouses and plaid skirts with a circle pin on the collar of the blouse. But they were Goths with all black clothing, Doc Marten boots, multiple piercings and white lipstick. And they STILL were mostly concerned about whether or not their current inamorata was interested in them.

I’ve made mistakes about other people, and some have made mistakes about me.
On the other hand, sometimes what you see is what you get because of deliberate choices to make the cover represent the book.
But it’s wise to read a few pages, or chapters, before deciding.

At my cafe I first showed up as a fat, old, brainy, white guy in glasses, who did college math for fun. I wore nice clothes, I drove a nice car, and it was obvious I had more money than most. Even worse, maybe, I voted for Trump.

It took me a while to realize some of the regulars rather resented me. One of them even asked me to agree about how privileged I was because I was white. They had no idea about what I fought through, growing up with little support in a family of alcoholics, drug addicts, and suicides.

Now I’m no longer fat and you can see the veins in my forearms from working out. I can tell the cafe crowd is confused. But I’m still the same guy.

Perhaps twelve months ago you might have seen me and assumed I was just some fat loser.

God knows I judge people on their looks. But I try not to. I know how hard it is to be human and how little I truly know about the people I see and automatically judge.

I’m aware “Jaws” is a work of fiction. Nonetheless, there are real-world lessons one may sometimes learn from fiction. Back in real life:

My favorite high school anecdote was the time Jimmy S. provoked one of the Stambaugh twins into a fight. Jimmy was the quarterback of our award-winning football team. He was damn talented. He went all-state. He had about 30 lbs of muscle on the small Stambaugh boy, who wasn’t bright nor well-liked, but he was an inner-city kid from New Jersey.

Stambaugh took Jimmy S. to pieces, street-fighter style. That was a contingency Jimmy wasn’t prepared for. The following Monday at school Jimmy was covered in cuts and bruises he didn’t want to talk about.

Book. Cover. Don’t judge. I suggest.

But “Jaws” is a grand classic, almost fifty years old. I kinda assume everyone has seen it.

Richard Aubrey:

Hooper had “city hands.” He was a short fella with glasses and a high nasal voice. But he was the sane, brave, competent guy on deck, always trying to do the right thing. He almost died trying to kill the shark while in a scuba suit from a shark cage.

Quint was the mad, hyper-masculine, Ahab figure with a beat-up body, so obsessed that he had no compunctions about smashing the radio which meant they couldn’t get help and driving the boat engine so hard it burned up and they were dead in the water waiting for the shark to attack.