29 June 2009

A quick google of Cristina Nehring, author of A Vindication of Love: Reclaiming Romance for the Twenty-First Century, from last week’s post, brought up an interesting 2004 article from the NY Times by Nehring entitled, “Books Make You a Boring Person.”

In the article, Nehring cautions against book-lover self-righteousness, urging readers to remember that there are many different ways to read a book:

We all know people who have read everything and have nothing to say. We all know people who use a text the way others use Muzak: to stave off the silence of their minds. These people may have a comic book in the bathroom, a newspaper on the breakfast table, a novel over lunch, a magazine in the dentist’s office, a biography on the kitchen counter, a political expose in bed, a paperback on every surface of their home and a weekly in their back pocket lest they ever have an empty moment. Some will be geniuses; others will be simple text grazers: always nibbling, never digesting — ever consuming, never creating.

The example of the “grazer” helps me think through the half-baked thoughts of a previous post, “A Lot of People Don’t Read Books.”  In the back of my mind, I knew that I wasn’t really making a distinction between book-readers and non-book-readers, but something else.  Nehring gets closer to the meaningful distinction:

There are two very different ways to use books. One is to provoke our own judgments, and the other, by far the more common, is to make such conclusions unnecessary. If we wish to embrace the first, we cannot afford to be adulatory of books…we must be aggressive… 

…you can learn anything from a book — or nothing. You can learn to be a suicide bomber, a religious fanatic…as easily as you can learn to be tolerant, peace-loving and wise. You can acquire unrealistic expectations of love as readily as, probably more readily than, realistic ones. You can learn to be a sexist or a feminist, a romantic or a cynic, a utopian or a skeptic. Most disturbing, you can train yourself to be nothing at all; you can float forever like driftwood on the current of text; you can be as passive as a person in an all-day movie theater, as antisocial as a kid holed up with a video game, and at the same time more conceited than both.

My shorthand for this (and another reason why I struggle with the Kindle) is: “Read with a pencil.”  Read aggressively.  I know I am reading in a way that will change me in some way if I am making notes, rushing to jot things down in my journal, underlining and sending quotes to friends.  Can you make notes/marginalia on a Kindle?  If yes, I might just be sold.

20 May 2009

A friend who was in the publishing biz for years (years ago) recently said to me: “You can’t have a conversation about publishing without the word ‘Kindle.'”

I’ve subscribed to the Publisher’s Weekly daily e-mail.  Not sure if this was the best idea.  Recent headlines include: “Bookstore Sales Down Again” and “The Rise and Fall of Book Output.”  Monday’s edition includes a number of links to articles about e-book economics: “Two Takes on E-book Pricing” (one from Mokoto Rich, a follow-up from Mike Shatzkin), “E-book Tipping Point?” and “Self E-Publishing.”

Again, it’s all Latin to me.  From what I can gather, Apple’s involvement in e-reading is significant (you can read any Kindle book on an iphone now), as is Barnes & Noble’s acquisition of a major e-book retailer and plans to launch their own e-reading platform in the fall.  In other words, Amazon is not — will not remain — the only e-book retailing game in town.  

But with hard cover books selling generally in the $20-$30 range, and all e-books selling for $9.99 on Amazon, both publishers and authors do worry: if e-book retailers begin driving down the magic number of what they’ll pay a publisher for content, then publishers’ profit margins drop even further; and authors, well… our dregs get even dreggier, if we’re able to publish our low-profit-margin literary works at all.

I may be getting this pyramid structure all wrong; but the part about authors being at the bottom seems about right.

Everything seems to be pointing to the literary mid-list  (by which I mean all non-best-sellers) becoming primarily a nonprofit and self-publishing endeavor. Perhaps some good can come of this — the proliferation of literary collectives, the birth of more nonprofit small presses?  What I would hate to see is the disproportionate death of the physical book for the literary genre; it feels, somehow, like if you  had to choose, you should be able to get Twilight electronically, but  EL Doctorow in hard cover.  

But that would assume an impossible world where I make the bottom-line decisions.  Moo-hoo-haa-haaa-haaaaaaa……..


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