Elle Griffin has a post based on the Penguin Random House Simon and Schuster monopoly trial. In it, she basically claims that books don’t sell, that no one knows how to sell books, and implies that everyone would be better off on Substack or similar platforms as a result. The problem is, she is relying on bad data and a mindset from a trial where it was in the publishers’ best interests to downplay their market power. In other words, she is basing a significant argument on faulty information.
First, she repeats the “most books average under 12 sales!” The problem is, that number is not entirely true.
In terms of the dozen copies statistic, I can’t evaluate it because it is unclear what it’s referring to. Fifty-eight thousand books is more books than PRH publishes in a given year, but far less than their entire backlist. Is 58k all new books published with an ISBN, including self-published books? Is it something else? I really don’t know and none of the publishing professionals I follow seem to know either. (Editing to add: Jane Friedman, who posted this number originally on Instagram, noted there was no source given in testimony. Friedman gives her own guess in the comments.)
In my experience, and with the data I’ve seen, most traditionally published novels that you see on bookstore shelves or reviewed in newspapers sell several hundred to a few thousand copies across formats. Many sell much more of course. I’ve seen some flops that sold only a couple hundred. And of course not all traditionally published novels appear in bookstores or reviewed in newspapers. Is it possible someone has published a Big 5 novel that sold only 12 copies over its lifetime? I suppose. But I don’t think it’s 5% much less 50%!
There are even more data in the comments, including the fact that this number appears to not include ebook sales, which is a noticeable omission.
Now, it is true that the industry is largely dependent upon best sellers for its financial success. However, Elle takes publishing executives at their word that those best sellers are largely black swan events that no one understands or can replicate. It turns out that that point is also nowhere entirely true.
Recent research has shown that you can actually have a pretty good idea of what books will sell and which ones won’t based on a few factors. While author audience is one of those factors, just as important was the size of the advance, quality of the book (which consisted of a few reader response items, not critical awards, etc.), and how likeable to cover was deemed to be. In addition, the advance seemed to be a strong correlation to success largely because large advances drove large marketing spend, and marketing spend, usurpingly, had a decent correlation to sales success.
Caveats, of course, apply. This is one study, it focused on YA so different genres might behave differently (though people are people, so I don’t think the differences would be that great), and it the predications were about 75% correct. Given the variances in actual book quality, though, I think that is rather remarkable.
It shows that the idea that publishers don’t know what will sell or how to sell books is not entirely true. They may not want to face up to the idea that they can strongly influence sales by acquiring “good” books, marketing them, and giving them strong covers, but the reality appears to be that they can indeed. Sometime soon, I think a publisher is going to realize this and spend more on getting a lot of mid-range success than gambling on one or two massive blockbusters.
The point is not that publishing is easy. Far from it. I have, after all, an entire section of the newsletter dedicated to being a failed writer. Books are on the small end of the mass market spectrum, and the is unlikely to change anytime soon. However, the situation is not as the publishers in an anti-trust trial wanted the judge to believe.
So why does this matter? First, it matters because facts matter, and you cannot rely entirely upon an interested party’s take. Second, there is this idea that if writers just had their own platforms, whether that is self-publishing (Elle also talks about the book world’s fear of Amazon and KDP (think Netflix for self-published books), a topic I will discuss another day since I think it, too, has significant issues and caveats), or, Elle’s apparent choice, newsletters in places like Substack, they would be better off financially. By painting an unrealistic picture of the self-published route (she mentions Branden Sanderson as a success in self-publishing, despite the fact that he built his fan base on the back of his traditionally published works. She also doesn’t mention that the vast majority of people on Substack do not make a living wage from their newsletters), its advocates can lead writers to make uninformed and possibly harmful decisions.
Just as importantly, as readers, we should want books to succeed. We should want publishers to be better at their jobs. By accepting that there is nothing they can do to ever succeed, that publishing is nothing but a crap shoot at all times, we let them off the hook. We as readers and authors (well, potential author in my case), should be advocating for publishers to, not to put too fine a point on it, get their shit together. Publishing is undoubtedly hard, and books are never going to replace, say, video games, at the top of the entertainment market. But that doesn’t mean things cannot be run better than they are today.
Change, however, is only possible if we don’t just accept that self-interested words of people who were trying to get paid in a big merger. A bit more healthy skepticism can help hold the publishing world’s feet to the proverbial fire (not one caused by burning books, of course) and get a healthier publishing industry. It won’t be easy, and it means keeping an eye on antitrust issues, tax policy, labor issues, etc. You know, the basics of living in an informed democracy. But no change is possible if we just take them at the word all the time.
