Anne Trubek, of Belt Books, a small publisher, writes at her blog, Notes from a Small Press (subscription required I think), about her fear that people are not reading books any more. Her post is entitled My Friends Aren’t Reading: What should a publisher do?! I believe the right thing to do is not to worry, because I don’t altogether agree with her premiss. More and more people come on stage every year: we may see a dip in books read this year, but long term there’s surely only one way for the numbers to go (percentages are a different story of course). Despite her anxiety Ms Trubek has, nevertheless, to admit that “Lots of books are still bought and sold in America! So very many! Current trends in corporate publishing favor those who are already famous (celebrity memoirs, celebrity cookbooks, celebrity children’s books) and genre, especially romance, which is booming. There are clearly enough readers — or at least buyers — for those.”
Ms Trubek sticks up for the mid-list, which she fears is endangered by those friends’ behavior. Now, Moses did not come down from the mountain with any commandment along the lines “Thou shalt maintain a good market for the mid-list book”. The best we can hope for is that most of our books will sell enough copies to wash their face. Face-washing happens at a lower total sale that you’d think — unless the book’s rashly underpriced or over-advanced. There’s no “normal” sales level. If mid-list books used to sell 5,000 to 10,000 copies (and I rather doubt that they did) then the fact that they may now sell between 2,000 and 5,000 (and again I’ve no knowledge that they really do) then that’s nothing more than a fact. Value judgement doesn’t come into it. Failure to buy such novels should not be held against us. Daringly, one can even admit that lots of mid-list novels are just not very good — but the same may also be said of the big sellers. And of course sales are not registered by something called “mid-list” — they are registered by this or that individual and unique book. I rather think that mid-list is a post hoc definition — “this one sold a disappointing but not disastrous number, so it is a mid-list title”. Nobody plans to publish mid-list titles — we publish books, and those that sell really well are called best sellers: the rest get talked of as mid-list. Cut your cloth to fit your budget, and on we go.
Mass sales, of the sort we are now rather fixated on, are a recent phenomenon — less than a couple of hundred years old. Cheap books, a consequence of mass sales, which in turn are a consequence of mass education as well as technology, are also a recent phenomenon. Of course, as a book reader I’d rather books cost less, but if they have to cost more — and I really need to have them — then I just have to pay more. A consequence of this would of course be that books were bought more on the basis of need than as an entertaining pastime. But stop a moment, and think what this means. Do you recognize here a hint of the academic and scientific publishing business? We tend to focus on the entertainment side of our business, the trade publishers, where large numbers in sales are aimed for. But most publishing (in terms of number of titles published) is not trade publishing, and tends to flourish on much lower sales allied to much higher prices.
Ms Trubek rashly departs from diagnosis and slides into prescription — “And longer term, one can’t but think that the publishing industry per se needs to contract, if its most loyal constituency is dwindling. It should become harder to get a book contract. There should be fewer jobs in publishing. There should be fewer creative writing programs. Monographs should not be required for tenure. Etc, etc—topics, again, that are not new, and the shifts have been in place for awhile. A certain kind of book—say those reviewed in the NYRB—will become like opera, or theater, or ballet, and their readers like their patrons. It’ll be an increasingly minor art.”
This of course is unduly defeatist. It really doesn’t take much to get by at publishing. (Doing really well is a lot harder.) And anyway what’s so wrong with a “minor art”? I rather like “opera, or theater, or ballet”; nobody suggests these “minor arts” are on their death beds because most people watch television, (and I’m not sure Richard Wagner would have agreed about that “minor” bit either). Serious publishing and the writing and reading of its output has never been anything other than a minor art.* Try not to allow the glare of the Penguin Random House headlights to blind you to all that’s really going on. If you need Evolution’s Witness: How Eyes Evolved by Ivan R. Schwab, you’ll pay your $125 for it; if not, not. As long as there are enough people to buy entertainment, to the extent that Taylor Swift’s latest ends up “washing its face” and maybe allowing for a bit of make-up purchasing too, trade publishing will continue merrily on its way providing fun books for you — if you buy them, they will come. There’s absolutely no evidence “that the publishing industry per se needs to contract” — indeed unless people take Ms Trubek’s advice that “there should be fewer creative writing programs” we will probably need expansion rather than contraction! Publishing may ultimately need to raise its prices (duh!) but as long as people need the information in books, and the entertainment they supply, books will be provided for them.
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* Actually I’d argue that 99.99% of the output of our trade houses was at best minor art, but let’s not antagonize. Great art is surely a rarity in any artistic medium, and while I just don’t know, I’d be amazed if any of our recent bestsellers turned out to be anything other than minor art — if they can even aspire to those heights.