Literature, served a la carte

And it isn't as if several attempts hadn't been made to change the situation either. Large industries have gotten into the business, greedy for their share in the market, aiming for a 10% to 15% capital gain. The wizards of finance are notorious for their complete lack of interest in the product. Their criteria for judging literature is profound and can be described in a single sentence: What doesn't pay off within six months dies.

Luckily, it's impossible to predict either successes or flops. That's why the black knights of big business haven't been spared their share of disappointments and those who once found their salvation in megalomania are now desperate to rid themselves of their burden. Advances that haven't paid off, crises of overproduction, competitors, sinking profits and layoffs -- all of these have dampened the mood in the executive offices. The corporations have had to admit there isn't much money to be made with books. Much to their astonishment, it would appear that small and mid-size literary publishers haven't died out as they had hoped. For reasons that can only baffle the experts, they continue to fight. The anachronism lives on!

How is it possible? Perhaps a comparison can help solve the puzzle. The only industry with a similar structure to publishing is gastronomy. A certain old-fashioned quality clings to this trade too. Even today, you can find small and mid-size restaurants whose sole ambition is to offer their patrons excellence; here too, the goal is not just to make a profit but to achieve fame and quality. As with publishing, giant corporations have entered the fray, hoping to conquer the market and destroy the traditional eatery. Like the publishing trade, they are only interested in maximizing their profits and their disinterest in the product is legendary. In this case, they have been more successful than their brothers in the media. Most likely it has to do with the fact that hamburgers are easier to standardize than a book, and hungry people are less finicky than readers.

The comparison might offend Platonic souls, but from an economic perspective it makes absolute sense. Perhaps we can even draw a few rational conclusions from this observation. Literary publishers face a divided market, but instead of courageously dealing with it, like the restaurant owners, they simply ignore it. As far as I can tell, book production is the only business in which a hamburger costs as much as a filet mignon and a portion of French fries as much as truffle pate.

Wherever we look, whether we are dealing with clothes, jewels, porcelain or furniture, first-class quality is more expensive than junk; only with book production this isn't the case. This is highly suspect, or I should say just plain superstitious. Any normal calculation shows that this can't continue. An age-old and certainly honorable tradition prevents publishers from demanding a decent price. For a decade or so, a book in America could not cost more than $19.95 (which at the time was considered a magical threshold). A handsomely bound novel didn't dare cost a single penny more! They stubbornly insisted on sticking to the holy threshold of $19.95. A few people decided to take a gamble, selling books for $20, $22 and $25.