Auletta on e-books

As my regular readers know (Brian, Mom, good morning to you both), I tend to discuss e-books a lot in this blog. This is both because e-books are an important issue in and of themselves, and also because they attract a disproportionate amount of attention in the media.

Case in point: The recent article in The New Yorker by Ken Auletta.

First, let me give Auletta a lot of credit. This is actually one of the best discussions of e-books and publishing I've ever seen. My criticisms, then, will sound a little disproportionate, because a lot of agreeing on my part doesn't make for a decent blog posting; only the criticisms are worth mentioning at length. It's not fair, really, since Auletta makes many of the points I have in this blog.

So first a little agreeing. What I like about Auletta's piece is that he mentions a lot of the things that I've been harping on. These are things like the relatively low percentage of printing and distribution in a book's total cost; the absolutely essential nature of publishers, not only with editing and nurturing authors, but also advances. (My main criticism with that is that he didn't stress it enough.) Also, he noted that e-books are three to five percent of the book market; that's small, but it's actually higher than I had heard before. It may well be that the industry-wide number is higher because of the sort of rapid-consumption books, such as romances, that are popular on e-readers.

One of the most important points he makes is that the digital tycoons don't read books, don't believe books will survive, and have no clue how publishing works. His accounts of what Steve Jobs of Apple and Jeff Bezos of Amazon have said or believe is shocking, though completely credible. Jobs claims publishing is doomed, because only 60% of the public read a book last year (he actually said 40% didn't read a book, but I think it's more revealing to reverse the number). Bezos wants to destroy publishing, period. Neither of them understand anything about mid- and lower-list authors, and how they become top-of-the-list authors, thanks to publishers and independent bookstores.

This is important stuff, and deserves priority in my discussion. Now a little criticism. First, Auletta ducks the question of whether e-books really are going to take over the book world. The advance of e-books is limited not only by the utility of the traditional codex (in an interview on NPR's "Fresh Air," Auletta himself said he prefers to read hardcovers), but also by the expense of e-readers. Sure, someday e-readers may become cheap enough for all, but not yet. Not by a long shot. The not-95% of the market that e-books occupy is still a very small fraction of the total, even with their rapid growth.

Second, he could have disassembled the effort by Amazon, in particular, to cut out publishers. This sounds great (Hey authors! You get the profits that publishers used to get!), but it's not. Auletta did mention some of the value that publishers bring to books, including subsidizing unprofitable books, but he failed to make an obvious comparison. We've had self-published books for generations. With very, very, very few exceptions, we've never heard of them. Why? Because they stink. Publishers not only identify writers who can actually write, they screen out the junk that's not worth reading. Traditional bookstores know this; that's why they don't stock absolutely everything published by anyone. Add in the fact that publishers edit and design and market and generally improve books, and the fact that they provide advances that actually allow books that are worth something to be written, and you see that cutting out the publisher is a dumb idea all around.

So what is Amazon trying to do? To skim off the authors who already have name recognition. This, too, is an attempt to hurt publishers. As Auletta notes, a small percentage of successful authors subsidize the others, who are publishing worthy books that have small audiences, or who are early in their careers and are still trying to break out. If those profitable authors get skimmed off by Amazon, all the rest of us authors sink, and don't get published.

Again, don't get me wrong: I think a digital retailer is not only inevitable, it's good in many respects. Amazon is a force to be respected, and in some respects to be welcomed. As Auletta writes, it brings backlist books to the general public. But we have to recognize when it takes actions that hurt all authors.

There are two other points I wish to examine.

First, Auletta notes that 40% of books get returned. True; a huge number, no doubt. But he failed to note that this is not evenly spread across all books published. Some books sell out; others get almost their entire print runs returned. Let's examine this a little further: A publisher releases a first novel. The print run is small. The publisher targets independent bookstores, hoping to build an audience. The retailers take one or two copies each. In the end, this book is not successful. Many bookstores return all the copies they ordered. Next to it on the shelf is a bestseller, or a backlist book with a steady audience. These do not get returned. In other words, the returns figure that Auletta cites is actually another way in which successful books (and publishers) subsidize the up-and-coming authors, who need time to gain recognition and a healthy audience.

Publishing does have problems, some of which Auletta notes; but, as he also notes, it accepts a certain amount of inefficiency because it's necessary for the future of the business. What happens when all of today's well-known authors retire? You'd better have brought up a new generation of authors, which takes time and money, and a lot of returns along the way.

The other thing I'd like to examine is the comparison that one of Auletta's sources made. The comparison was that publishers were being like railroads, which made the mistake of thinking they were in the train business, not the transportation business. Huh? I actually know something about this. The problem with the railroad industry was that the structural forces of the industry impelled them toward cutting their prices below a profitable level. If a line had a roundabout route, and so was less attractive, it lost business. But since it was such a capital-intensive enterprise, it had to continue to pay a large amount to maintain track, rolling stock, and the like, even if it ran no trains. So it was in that railroad's interest to offer cut-rate prices to attract business, so it could get some kind of income, even if it was not enough to pay expenses. Then that would push stronger competitors to match the price cuts, and start to take losses as well. The result was constant downward pressure on prices.

That's the real comparison, and it's scary.

Now in Paperback

You'll have to excuse my failure to pontificate—er, blog—recently. I just had two action-packed days in Northfield, Minnesota, mostly at my alma mater, Carleton College. I'll be posting more about my talk there—a discussion of biography's relationship to history and literature.

Tomorrow (Sunday, April 25) I'll be taking part in the Authors Salon in San Jose, California, organized by the Peninsula Volunteers.

Meanwhile, the paperback edition of The First Tycoon: The Epic Life of Cornelius Vanderbilt has been released by Vintage. I'll be going on the road to talk about it in May (stay tuned for the schedule), but I must say that the publisher has done a really excellent job. A beautiful edition.

Pulitzer Pushes Paperback

Thanks to the Pulitzer Prize (established by nineteenth-century newspaper tycoon Joseph Pulitzer, shown here), the paperback of The First Tycoon: The Epic Life of Cornelius Vanderbilt will be published early—on April 20, in fact. As of this writing, that's only five days away.

For those of you who want to acquire a copy of the gorgeous hardcover, time is running out. It will be unobtainable before long. (Excuse me for calling my own book "gorgeous," but I had nothing to do with the design and production quality. Well done, Knopf.)

For those of you holding onto your money, waiting for the paperback, your long wait is about to end, almost exactly one year after hardcover publication.

Where should you buy? I encourage you to seek out your local independent bookseller. Reserve a copy! Why not Amazon or Barnes & Noble or Borders, you ask? I am not against any of these retailers. I think the world of books needs them all. But if I'm not anti-Amazon or anti-chain, I am definitely pro-independent. The independent neighborhood bookseller is where readers can interact with well-informed staff, get intelligent recommendations, and discover new and unknown writers. Independents are where writers actually meet readers in face-to-face appearances.

I say this not so much for my sake, since the prizes I've been honored with guarantee that readers can find my books, wherever they shop. Rather, I'm speaking for the legions of writers who deserve an audience, and are waiting to break out. And when they do break out, it's usually through independent bookstores—an essential part of the culture of the written word.

So if you order from Amazon or Barnes & Noble or Borders, you won't get a complaint from me. Buying books is good, no matter where. But if you support your local independent bookstore, then consider this a pat on the back. Well done.

Oh, and thanks again to Mr. Pulitzer. Your forethought, sir, has had a big effect on my life.

A Curious Post-Pulitzer Development

Since the announcement on April 12 that I had been awarded the Pulitzer Prize in biography for The First Tycoon, I've been besieged with e-mails. In the old days, it would have been phone calls, though e-mails are a little easier to deal with. Still, I've been very busy.

So I didn't notice until now that a curious thing happened over at Amazon. In the short space of time since I won the Pulitzer, the online retailer bumped up the Kindle edition of my book from $9.99 to $22.28.

Why they raised the price, I don't know. I have no influence over the list price, set by the publisher, and Amazon alone decides what retail price it will charge. I do know that Amazon actually takes a loss to price the Kindle editions of many books at $9.99. Perhaps Amazon has decided to recoup some of its losses before the paperback of The First Tycoon becomes available on May 11 with a $19.95 list price. But, honestly, I have no idea what Amazon is thinking.

The point is, for Kindle readers, that I have no role in pricing. It's true that I am concerned that e-book loss leaders will result in the price of books being driven down to the point where I can't make a living as a writer, but that's a long-term concern. In the short term, for those wondering why the Kindle edition has suddenly jumped up, all I can do is to direct you to Amazon.

[I would like to note that a new pricing model for e-books, namely the "agency model," is working its way through the industry, though the last I heard Random House had not adopted the agency model.]

The Pulitzer Prize

On Monday, April 12, my book The First Tycoon: The Epic Life of Cornelius Vanderbilt was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in biography.

I am incredibly honored, and grateful. For my fuller comments on the subject, you can go to my main author website, here.

Thanks to everyone who has bought, read, recommended, sold, or worked on this book. I am in your debt, everyone.

This is what your brain looks like when writing...

I haven't posted for a while because I've been at work on a couple of projects. One of them is a lecture I'm going to deliver at Carleton College. It's about the relationship between biography and history. I'll be pulling some material out from that talk for my next blog post. So stay tuned.

Books are not pop tunes

If nuance was obvious, it wouldn't be nuance. Readers of this blog know that I have much to say about e-books. If you are careful readers, though, you know that my views cannot be characterized as simply pro or con (despite what Motoko Rich of the New York Times once wrote).

For those who think that I am against digital books, I would like to announce that my first biography, Jesse James: Last Rebel of the Civil War, will soon be published as an e-book. Guess who suggested it? That's right: I did.

It seemed like a shame to me that a relatively recent book is unavailable in digital format, even though it remains in print, has yet to be overtaken by another James biography (though it inevitably will happen some day), and is still on bookstore shelves. I suggested an e-book to my editor, and he thought it was a great idea. Yes, I know that Amazon will probably sell the bulk of them. I'm not anti-Amazon, either. I just think Amazon should play by the same rules as other booksellers, and not be allowed to drive bookstores out of business.

But I also think that the codex—the traditional bound book—is a remarkable piece of technology, old as it is, and will not be driven into obsolescence by digitization. It frustrates me to see the press write about e-books as if they will become the dominant form of book publishing in a matter of days, rather than decades, if ever.

See, for example, Motoko Rich's recent article on how e-books will affect the traditional art (and advertising) of book covers. It's not a bad piece—Ms. Rich is no fool, after all—but she fails to mention the critical fact that e-books currently represent an unwhopping 2% of book sales. Put another way, that's all but 98% of the market.

I think commentators make a false analogy between book publishing and newspaper and music publishing. Both the news and music have been thrown into chaos by digitization. But let's think about this for a minute. Both pop music and newspaper stories are consumed in small bites. They are short-form, where books are long-form. Newspapers are obsolete within twenty-four hours of their creation—less, actually, with instant access online to breaking news. Music is consumed in two to five minute bursts; listeners like to mix songs from different artists into homemade playlists, often over and over again, on their MP3 players.

Books are not so ephemeral as newspapers. Many books are read and then put on the shelf, to be pulled down and reread (or read by someone else) later. They last. Well, the best ones last... Nor are they the equivalent of music CDs. Music CDs can be broken down into their constituent songs and mixed with others; they also need a separate apparatus to be consumed, whether it is a CD player or computer. Books cannot be broken down to be consumed in small bites. They are their own apparatus; they require no investment in a device—a device that will inevitably lose its battery power, break down, and go obsolete.

I've blogged before about the usefulness of the codex, so I won't repeat those comments here. But the contrast between books on one hand and music and news on the other is a powerful one, one that is ignored by virtually all reporting. There is a narrative widely accepted among journalists of the arts, that digitization is an inexorable force that rapidly displaces whatever came before. In fact, the story is far more complicated than that. Mind you, I'm not saying e-books are bad, and should be held off as long as possible. I'm saying the codex is good, and should still be respected.

But that's a lot of nuance, so don't expect anyone to pay attention.