The Building of a Book Part 18

The book is before the people, and it is necessary to wait for their verdict. There are many ways of "puffing" a book. Clever advertising will do much. Window displays and all the other arts resorted to by bookseller and publisher sell copies; but unless the people take to it, unless it appeals to them, unless they talk about it, and pa.s.s it along, none of these ways will do more than give a book a very temporary period of demand. The wisest publisher sometimes issues books that never reach a second edition. They awaken no responsive echo in the hearts of the people, the stamp of public approval is not put upon them, and although hailed with a flourish of trumpets and a blast of advertising, they die an early death, the author and the publisher perhaps being the only people that regret their demise.

In the case of a work that does meet with public approval, this approval is soon shown, and it is not a hard matter to care for the demand. The wholesaler aims to keep a stock on hand sufficiently large to cover all calls upon him, and does what he can to push the good thing along, through his salesmen and the circular literature which he sends out from time to time.

There are other cla.s.ses of books, however, in which the wholesaler must interest himself and which cannot be treated so easily; here perhaps his service to the community and the publishing field are the greatest. Only the select few among books are big sellers; the majority do not sell largely, and only a very small percentage of the many thousands of books put forth annually make a stir in the world. A novel by an unknown author, a biography of an eminent man, a modest work of travel or adventure, technical books and those that add to the world's knowledge, cannot be given a wide distribution or an inviting display on the shelves of the trade. The smaller bookseller cannot afford to carry them. His profits are small and his investments in books of this cla.s.s have to be very carefully considered. His margin of profit is too small for him to take more chances than he has to, and consequently he relies largely upon his jobber, from whom he in most cases picks up these books as he needs them. The wholesaler has to be a bureau of information concerning this part of his business.

His mail brings him in all sorts of inquiries for books that have been out of print for years. Somebody wants them, can they be obtained by advertising for them or otherwise? The jobber must know this and give the information to his customer promptly. Books not yet published.

When will they be issued? What will be the cost? An approximate price must be given. What are the best books on certain subjects, and how do they compare with other works in the same field? Hundreds of inquiries similar to these are constantly received. Sometimes t.i.tles are garbled and twisted all out of shape, taken down perhaps by the rural bookseller phonetically and confidently forwarded to the wholesaler, who will certainly know. The right book is usually sent, and not often is the jobber found to be at fault. Curiously enough, the majority of people are very careless in regard to t.i.tles of books, and many conundrums of this kind are daily solved by the trade.

Peculiar in many ways is the book trade, and the ordinary laws of commercialism do not always apply to the book business. The book market is fickle to the utmost degree. The books that should sell sometimes do not "move" at all, and those that apparently have but little to recommend them turn out to be the best of the bunch so far as sales are concerned. A jobber has to be something of an optimist; he must keep his ear to the ground, and, like certain types of politicians, must be prepared to give the people what they want when they want it. He can of course help along the demand for good books and check that for poor literature, and, to his credit, he usually does this, but the book-buying public is truly democratic and in the main people are pretty definite in their wants. Oftentimes they can be led, but it is rarely that they will consent to be driven.

Another important part of the jobber's business is the supplying of public libraries and similar inst.i.tutions. Here his knowledge of books and the resources of his establishment are put to the severest test.

Libraries use a vast quant.i.ty of books, and the demand from this source is extremely varied in character. Librarians are also very shrewd and careful buyers, and much work in the way of pricing of lists, answering inquiries, etc., is demanded. Margins of profit here are very small, but there is practically no loss in the matter of accounts, and a librarian is very satisfactory to deal with, as he usually knows what he wants. The popular novel has been pushed so much to the front of late years and advertised on such a colossal scale, that one not versed in the reading demands of the people might very well think America was reading nothing else. In the orders sent in by public libraries, however, "solid reading" is very largely represented, and, as a matter of fact, that cla.s.s of literature is making just as great an increase in public demand as the lighter kind.

The wholesaler therefore is a useful member of the book world and an important factor in the distribution of books. He must combine the ac.u.men of the business man with a taste for literature for literature's sake, have an enormous capacity for detail but be capable of grasping an opportunity, possess the wisdom of Solomon, the patience of Job, and the tact of a diplomat. He must be, in short, a business man, a scholar, and a philosopher; and even with all these accomplishments he is not likely to endanger the peace of the community by acc.u.mulating an enormous fortune.

SELLING AT RETAIL

By Warren Snyder.

It is with the finished product of author and publisher that the bookseller has chiefly to do. In the building of a book he does not come into contact with author, artist, compositor, printer, or publisher. If he be in a position to place large orders, his opinion is occasionally sought as to the advisability of bringing out a new edition of some book or books for which there seems to be a demand. A book may have reached an unusually large sale in an ordinary edition; he is asked if he thinks a finer and more expensive edition would be warrantable. He is, however, chary in most cases about expressing an opinion; and he never allows himself to become enthusiastic over any book in the presence of a publisher or a publisher's representative.

For he feels that if he should display any eagerness, he would, in a measure, commit himself to placing a large order for that particular book.

With books being brought out at the rate they have been for the last five years, the bookseller finds himself with little time or inclination either to read or to think about the things to come. He has enough to occupy his attention in his efforts to display and sell the books he already has on hand. Witness the pyramids of volumes towering ceilingward--many of them books that have been there for several moons at least; and which are likely to remain there until many more moons have waxed and waned.

I often wonder if the bookseller of fifty years ago ever dreamed of what his successor would have to contend with in the way of new publications. I recall a conversation I had two or three years ago with a man more than seventy years of age. He had started out in his business life as a clerk in a bookstore and he said to me, "There are no booksellers to-day like there were when I was in the book business.

Then," he continued, "a bookseller was thoroughly posted as to the contents of the books he had for sale; while now they know but little more about a book than its t.i.tle." I asked him if he ever stopped to compare the conditions under which the bookseller of past days worked with those under which the bookseller of to-day had to labor. I have read that in 1855 there were but five hundred new books issued in the United States. In 1905--fifty years later--there were seventy-five hundred new books launched on the market. This did not include some six hundred reprints.

When there was an average of less than ten new books published in a week, it was an easy task for an intelligent salesperson to get a fair knowledge of the contents of every one. But when books are ground out at the rate of one hundred and fifty a week,--twenty-five a day,--the task becomes an impossible one. Yet I have frequently been asked by seemingly intelligent persons if I did not read a book before purchasing it. And when I have attempted to explain that it would be impossible for me to read all the books issued, they have not hesitated to convey, by word or gesture, their opinion of this obviously reckless way of doing business. Not long ago a man came to my office inquiring for the manager. When he was directed to me he said: "I bought a book here a few days ago, and it is imperfect. There are a number of pages missing, while some pages are repeated." Then, with a sneer, "I am surprised that a firm like this should sell imperfect books." I a.s.sured him that we had no intention of selling an imperfect book; it was an accident that sometimes happened. The wonder to me was that it did not happen oftener. I was sorry if he had been put to any inconvenience; we would cheerfully give him another copy.

We could return the imperfect copy to the publishers who would make it right with us.

"But don't you examine the books you buy to see if the pages are all there?"

I told him how impossible that would be. Why, we often added as many as fifty thousand volumes to our stock in a single week. He left me, I am sure, convinced that we were careless in our mode of doing business.

Once I was called from my office to meet a lady who also had a grievance. She accosted me with the air of one who had been basely swindled. "I bought a book here yesterday," she said, "one you advertised as cheap. I wish to return it and get my money back. My husband says it is no wonder that you can sell books so cheap; this one is not half finished. Look at the rough edges; the leaves are not even cut."

Of course I had the price of the book returned to her at once. Then I proceeded to show her some of the expensive and finely bound volumes with rough edges. I explained how the value of many of these books would be lessened if the leaves were trimmed. I tried to give her the point of view of the book collector. She was incredulous. I think, however, that she went away a wiser, if not a happier woman; and she has probably blushed many times since when recalling the incident.

The buyer of books for a large store does not go out to look for new publications. He remains in his office, and the publisher sends a representative to see him in regard to each new book issued. In New York City he is called upon on an average of once a week by some one from each publishing house. At certain seasons of the year these "commercial travellers," as they prefer to be t.i.tled, seem to drift in ten or a dozen at a time. They will often be found waiting in line outside the buyer's office, each taking his turn. Each will have from two to ten new books, all to be ready within the next two weeks.

I have said that the bookseller of to-day has but little time to read about the volumes that are forthcoming. Therefore, most of the new books are first brought to his attention by the salesmen who come to solicit orders. Every book must be given some consideration; and in most cases some quant.i.ty of it must be ordered. It may be five copies or it may be five thousand. To the inexperienced it is difficult to explain the precise considerations that govern the amount of the order. Here is where the strain comes on the buyer; for the responsibility lies with him. Yet he must decide without having read a single page; and he must decide quickly--in a few minutes. Many times he places an order without having seen the completed book at all. Some pages of the text, a half-dozen ill.u.s.trations, and the outside cover are perhaps presented to him. Even the fact that the publisher has had the ma.n.u.script read by three or four experts before deciding to publish, does not always help him. There are many miscalculations on the part of both buyer and publisher.

But, you insist, how does a buyer form a judgment of the number of copies to buy if he does not read the book? There are many things to guide him. There is the popularity of the author to be considered; the subject of the book; the mechanical features; the price; and the publisher's name and standing. If it is an author's first book the risk is great. If both the author and publisher are new the risk is still greater. For the amount of advertising that such a publisher is likely to do is an unknown quant.i.ty. The buyer can estimate pretty closely on the advertising probabilities of well-established firms; he knows what they are accustomed to do in that line.

In the reminiscences of a bookseller who began business more than seventy years ago, there is a letter from his mother written in 1844, from which the following is an excerpt:--

"I will ask you once more to consider my plea regarding the policy and character of some portion of your business. The selecting of books for a reading community is a peculiar responsibility; and if the matter therein contained be good in its wholesale and retail consequences it will rise up for you, if bad, against you, even here in this partly Christianized America."

But the bookman no longer has the opportunity of selecting for a community. The conditions are changed. In these days of extended advertising in newspapers and magazines, the reading public learns all about the new books before going near a bookstore. The demand is created outside the shop; the dealer must be prepared to supply it.

Customers tell him not only what to keep on sale, but what not to keep on sale. The writer of the present article has been admonished not to have in stock the writings of many of the great authors--Darwin, Huxley, Tyndall, Herbert Spencer, Miss Braddon, George Eliot, Mrs.

Humphry Ward, Balzac, Byron, and many others. A letter received about fifteen years ago read something like this:--

"I was much surprised yesterday, while pa.s.sing through your bookstore, to find a number of immoral books there for sale. I copied down the names of a few of them--'An Earnest Trifler' and 'A Desperate Chance.'"

There were four others the t.i.tles of which I do not recall; but the two mentioned made an impression on my mind, because I had read the first one only a short time before; and knew it to be a perfectly pure story. The second one happened to have been written by an acquaintance of mine, J. D. Jerrold Kelly, now a commander in the United States Navy. If he ever reads this article he will probably be informed for the first time that he is accused of having written an immoral story.

The funny part of the incident was that the letter in question closed with the following: "I will admit that I have not read any of these books. I would not soil my mind by reading them; but I think the t.i.tles are quite sufficient to lead many a weak-minded person astray."

I leave the reader to draw his own conclusions.

I said that the bookseller does not necessarily come into contact with author or publisher in the building of a book. He is, however, frequently called upon by authors of the cla.s.s that might be termed unsuccessful. These want his help. One came to me with a proposition that I take five thousand copies of a book he had written. "It's a wonderful book," he said. "Nothing like it has been written; and it's bound to make a great stir. It will revolutionize society completely.

All it needs is for you to 'push' the sale." When I asked to see the book, he said it was not published yet. "I am looking for a publisher; and will let you see a copy as soon as it is ready. But," he added, "if you would give me your order now it would be a great help in securing a publisher." It is scarcely necessary for me to add that I did not feel called upon to help him to the extent of ordering five thousand copies of the book without seeing it, even if society had to remain unrevolutionized for a while longer. I never saw the author again; nor have I heard of the book. Now many books must have been written for which no publisher could be found! The pity is that so many have found publishers--a statement with which I feel sure publishers and booksellers alike will agree.

A year or two ago I was asked by a friend to give some advice to a lady who had written a book. She did not take my advice, however, when I gave it--I hardly expected that she would. In fact, she went directly contrary to it, and practically published the book herself.

Later she came to me with the proposition that I take her book and "push" it as the Century Dictionary and Encyclopedia was being pushed; she was sure it would have a large sale, if only I would advertise it in the same way that these other books were being advertised--full pages in the daily papers. The retail price of her book was, I believe, one dollar. These are but two instances; I could mention many more equally ridiculous. How that word "push" does grate on my ears!

It will put me in a bad humor about as quickly as anything I can recall.

My first experience in the book business was on Na.s.sau Street, then one of the great book streets of New York City, if not the greatest.

One morning shortly after the store opened an elderly couple from the country came in--the man evidently interested in books; but the woman not at all. While he was looking over the counters she remained well in the centre of the main aisle, a short distance behind him.

Presently he came to a counter on which there was a placard: "Books fifty cents each." By some mistake an expensive volume had been laid with these second-hand books. The man picked it up and began leafing it over. Then turning to the woman he said, "That's cheap at fifty cents." "What's it good for?" was her query. "I wouldn't spend fifty cents for it." Then I heard him say, "That's worth more than fifty cents. If that's the price I'll buy it." "Young man, what's the price of this book?" This last to me. I told him, "Nine dollars." The look he gave the woman was not unkindly, but it spoke volumes. He knew a thing or two about books; he was thoroughly conscious of his superiority over her, when it came to their value.

During the last thirty years a magnificent work has been done in suppressing and destroying the filthy literature that was almost openly sold in the streets of many of our largest cities. Too much credit cannot be given the society that took the matter in hand. I believe that nearly every dealer to-day aims to keep his stock free from demoralizing books; but in the nature of things the line of demarcation cannot be drawn with entire satisfaction to all. About twenty years ago an itinerant dealer was arrested in a New Jersey town for selling a certain book. I was present at the trial, which was somewhat farcical. The defendant had gathered together a large number of catalogues to show that the book had been sold by the most reputable dealers in the country; and that it was included in the catalogues of most of the public libraries. But the judge would not allow this as evidence. He took the stand that the whole question rested upon the book itself. It did not matter what the rest of the world thought of the book; they were there to judge whether or not it was immoral. (The penalty for selling an immoral book in New Jersey was, I think, at least one year's imprisonment.) The jury was composed of twelve yokels, eleven of them had never heard of the book, the twelfth said he had read it about twenty years earlier. As the whole thing hinged on the opinion of the jury as to its character, copies were supplied by the defendant, and the jury was sent into another room to read the book. After an hour or so they returned. All agreed that the story was not immoral, and the case was dismissed.

It would be a pleasure for me to write of the many distinguished persons with whom I have become acquainted during my career as a bookseller and buyer. But were I once to begin on the subject I fear my readers would believe me lacking in "terminal facilities." I should regret, however, to have to close this article without mention of the many delightful friendships I have formed with authors, customers, and publishers. And I may add, with the men who sell to me--whom, almost to a man, I have found thoroughly conscientious. These are pleasant features that go a long way toward compensating one for being in a business, the profits of which, at the best, are small as compared with those of other lines of trade.

SELLING BY SUBSCRIPTION

By Charles S. Olcott.

The business of selling books may be divided, in a general way, into two divisions, one seeking to bring the people to the books, the other aiming to take the books to the people. The first operates through the retail book stores, news-stands, department stores, and the like. The other employs agents, or advertises in the newspapers or magazines, to secure orders or "subscriptions," on receipt of which the books are delivered. The latter method of selling has become known as the "Subscription-book" business.

The agent usually calls at the office or home of his prospective customer and shows samples of the text pages, ill.u.s.trations, bindings, etc., bound together in a form known as a "prospectus." Sometimes he exhibits a number of different prospectuses. The customer signs an order blank, which the agent turns over to the publisher, who makes the delivery and collects the money. To cover the entire country, the large publisher establishes branch offices in many different cities or sells his books to so-called "general agents," who secure their own canva.s.sers.

It may be asked, why does such a method exist? Do not people know enough to go to the book stores and ask for what they want? And why go to a man and urge him to buy a book he does not want? The answer goes deep into human nature. People have to be urged to take very many things which they know they ought to have. The small boy knows he ought to go to school, but has to be coaxed. Parents know he ought to go, but compulsory education laws have been found necessary in many states. The churches are good, but people sometimes need urging even to go there. Life insurance, honestly conducted, is one of the greatest blessings a man can buy with money, but the princ.i.p.al expenditures of the great companies are the vast sums spent in pleading with the people to take advantage of it.

Experience has proved this to be true of books. Men and women must be employed to show the people their value. The latest novel, if popular and well advertised, will sell fairly well in the retail store, but an encyclopaedia, or any extensive set of books, must be taken directly to the people and explained by competent salesmen if the publishers hope to pay the cost of the plates within a lifetime. This is strikingly ill.u.s.trated in the case of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica." The sales in England of the original ninth edition were less than ten thousand sets. In America, where subscription methods were adopted from the first, and in England, after some enterprising American subscription-book men took it in hand, the sales may be fairly estimated at something like one hundred and fifty thousand sets.

Twenty or thirty years ago, by far the most common form of subscription book was the variety labelled "Manual of Business," or the "Complete Farm Cyclopedia," or the "Road to Heaven." The publisher did not advertise for customers but for agents. The books were sold directly to the agent, and he in turn delivered them to his customers and collected the money. Anybody out of employment could take up the business. The aim was to get as many agents as possible and sell them the books. The agent canva.s.sed with a "prospectus" after committing to memory his little story. The subscribers signed their names in the back of the prospectus. Sometimes the young and inexperienced agent ordered as many copies as he had signatures or more. Woe unto him if he did, for oftentimes they would not "deliver." Many years ago I remember calling at a modest little home in the Middle West. While waiting in the parlor, I noticed how peculiarly it was furnished.

Every corner of the little square room contained a monument of symmetrical design, all different, but each some three or four feet high, and all built of books, as a child might build a fairy castle out of his wooden blocks. A closer inspection showed that all the volumes were copies of the same book bound in "half morocco"! The explanation came later when I was incidentally informed that "Willie had tried canva.s.sing, but most of 'em backed out."

This reminds one of the remark of Th.o.r.eau when, four years after the publication of his first book (at the author's expense), the publisher compelled him to remove 706 unsold copies out of the edition of 1000, and he had them all carted to his home. "I now have," he said, "a library of nearly 900 volumes, over 700 of which I wrote myself." It is an interesting fact in this connection that the successors of that publisher are to-day, fifty years later, successfully selling by subscription an edition of Th.o.r.eau's writings in 20 volumes, the set in the cheapest style of binding costing $100.

Among the famous books sold by this method have been Blaine's "Twenty Years in Congress," Stanley's "In Darkest Africa," and Grant's "Memoirs." The handsome fortune which the publishers of the latter were enabled to pay to Mrs. Grant was made possible only by the application of the subscription method of reaching the people.