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My Bookshop Backstory by Tom Rowley · Aug 1, 2026

How many books find an audience?

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Tom Rowley · My Bookshop Backstory by Tom Rowley

10th August, 2.15pm

The beloved children’s author will join us to sign copies of her latest book, Esme Pepper. Spots must be reserved in advance (no need to book a ticket for parents/guardians or siblings).

Meet Jacqueline Wilson

AFTER THE HEATWAVES of the last month and a half, customers and colleagues have been stumbling into the bookshop sweaty and downcast, lapping up our air conditioning and iced coffees like water in a desert. So I’ve felt particularly guilty this week at the repeated visits of our very friendly UPS courier, as he has lugged dozens of heavy boxes of books out to his van.

Returns season always makes me feel a little guilty, though. Every quarter or so, we have a more or less rigorous rootle through the bookshelves and the “overstock” downstairs, asking “do we really need five copies of this?” and “why on earth did I ever order that?

I won’t deny that there are some books I’m very glad to see the back of. Worse are the books that, no matter how hard we try to return them, never seem to actually go, haunting the shelves downstairs as a reminder of dreadful buying decisions past.

It’s also true that returns are vital and tough love is imperative: we’re a small business and cash that is tied up in stock that isn’t shifting prevents investment in something else that might fly out the door. That’s why publishers, who have a strong interest in our success (and on our taking a punt on their latest titles), offer sale or return.

But it is dispiriting to see new titles that bounded into the bookshop just a few months ago, eager to impress browsers and find a cherished place on a customer’s bookshelves, herded back into a box, taped up and promptly dispatched to the warehouse from which they came.

In the rush to get everything packed up (and here I must thank Francis, who wrangles returns with the long-suffering efficiency of a teacher counting recalcitrant teenagers back onto the coach at the end of a school trip), it can be easy to forget that every single one of these books was the product of sometimes years of effort and love from the writer, and then a great deal of work from, at the minimum, an agent, editor, copy editor, publicist, cover designer, marketer, sales reps, printers, warehouse workers and, yes, couriers.

The process underscores just how difficult it is for a new book to find an audience. But how difficult exactly? The weight of boxes provides ample anecdotal evidence, but in search of a more conclusive answer, I ran the numbers on all of the new books that arrived in our bookshop this January.

That month, we ordered a total of 149 new titles from publishers, roughly a tenth of the books they tried to persuade us to stock. So nine in ten books fall at the first hurdle, never getting onto our shelves at all.

Of the 149 that made it past the door, 23 (or 15%) failed to sell a single copy. A further 26 only sold once. Enter Francis, wielding spreadsheets: any remaining copies of those books have now been returned to the publisher. In total, we no longer stock 40% of the titles we added to the shop for the first time in January: the stock either sold slowly and therefore was not replenished, or it was returned. (Since we order 100 copies of some books but only one of others, the overall proportion of books we return is much lower than these figures suggest.)

Nor is the prognosis much rosier for many of the books we’ve kept in stock. Less than a fifth of January’s new arrivals have sold any copies at all this month, demonstrating just how short-lived any buzz around a release can prove.

What sets apart the books that overcome these odds? First, they are paperbacks: only three of the January releases that have sold ten or more copies so far this year were hardbacks. And they are overwhelmingly likely to be by an author with an existing track record: only six of the 32 books in this “relatively strong seller” category were by debut authors, of which only one was hardback debut fiction, a corner of the market pretty much pre-packaged for returns.

It’s worth saying that we are probably particularly efficient/brutal at our bookshop. We can only squeeze in about 3,000 books in total, so we can’t afford to hang on to books that aren’t shifting. Bigger bookshops can be a little more forgiving of slow-moving titles.

But the overall picture is the same, even in the largest bookshop: most new books will never make it to “core backlist”, the domain of books kept in stock year in, year out. Many struggle to sell even a few hundred copies.

This reality is obviously sobering for writers, particularly those working on their first book. To those outside the industry, getting a publishing deal can often seem like the end of the journey. In fact, it marks the moment when the battle — for space in bookshops, for readers’ attention — begins.

But there is also some hope to be found in these numbers, if you look hard enough. Most obvious is the remarkable fact that, despite these odds, anyone is writing, publishing or selling books at all.

Big publishers come in for a lot of stick, but they choose a harder life than they need to. A good proportion of what they publish is a gamble, something that might or might not pay off: they need these in order to reap the rewards when a title does break through. But a fair number of new releases are pretty obviously never going to be bestsellers, just as surely as the latest cosy crime by a celebrity author will be. Despite a tough market, they publish both, the latter offsetting the former. More impressive are the indie publishers who publish only the former, in spite of overwhelming commercial odds, for the sheer love of these books.

Bookshops, too, take more risks than they really need to. That’s because they tend to be run by readers rather than accountants. There were definitely some real duds among the returns we sent off this week, but mostly they were books I was happy we took a gamble on. I’d hope my buying gets sharper over time, thereby reducing the proportion of new titles that are ultimately returned, as has been the case over the last four years. But I’d never want that proportion to be zero, or anywhere close: that would be a sign of conservatism where there ought to be enthusiasm, excitement, and just a dash of daring.

Second, these figures illustrate just how miraculous it is when a new book does find an audience. That instead of the millions of books published over centuries, instead of the Christies and Dickenses, the Tartts and the Baldwins — before even accounting for the distractions of work, family and endless social media scrolling — these readers have chosen to spend time with that book right now. The odds against that moment of connection, of communion between author and reader, were so overwhelming, and yet it happened.

Finally, if anything, it encourages me. That is because, by demonstrating the cacophony of competing voices, it highlights the difference just one bookshop — and ultimately just one reader — can make by championing a particular title. By picking it out of the mass of paperbacks shouting for attention on a bookshop table and pressing it into a reader’s hands. By being so won over by a debut novel that you force the rest of your book group to read it. By posting some lovely words about a new release on Instagram and tagging the author: you may have been one of thousands of their readers that week, or one of only a handful; either way, that author knows that their work has struck a chord, has made a stranger laugh or cry.

In next week’s newsletter, then, let’s shout about some great books we’ve read recently that, for whatever reason, have flown under the radar. We’ll suggest some, but I’ll share your recommendations too. Hit reply to this email or comment underneath, and we’ll try to make sure those hidden gems don’t end up in the returns box next time around.

Happy reading,

Tom

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