Those Evil Online Booksellers

Posted on January 1, 2009 by bipolarlawyercook| 15 Comments

There’s an inter­est­ing arti­cle in the New York Times about the effect of online book sales on small book­stores– espe­cially the effect of resales on authors and stores.

I admit that I have bought my fair share of new books from Ama­zon, or gone to a box store like Bor­ders or Barnes and Noble.  I don’t buy many used books, unlike my Dad, who loves Alib­ris almost as much as he loves his own kids, but I’m not an aca­d­e­mic, either, so I’m not chas­ing down obscure or out of print books most of the time.  And I have no doubt that this has had a real effect– I can see it in what ought to be the book mecca– Har­vard Square.  Now those won­der­ful days I spent as a kid and teenager mooching in the paper­back sci-fi & fan­tasy aisles at as many as three stores are gone.  The Har­vard Coop is run by B & N, and there’s one general-interest book­store (ONE, peo­ple) left in the square.  I try to buy there as often as pos­si­ble, but it really is over the river and through the woods for me, so it’s some­place I have to make a trip to get to.

But here’s the thing– and it’s some­thing the arti­cle doesn’t address.  They’re talk­ing about good, well-run small book­stores.  The ones who put care and deep thought into their selec­tions, and who pay atten­tion to inven­tory and what peo­ple come in ask­ing for.

Even liv­ing in Boston, I some­times have trou­ble find­ing a book that I need.  The only reli­able “small” book­stores, i.e., non-chains, are Book­smith and the New Eng­land Mobile Book Fair, aka King Tut’s Tomb.

Oth­er­wise?  Well, I live in a neigh­bor­hood in Boston that does have its own book­store– except it’s a spe­cialty book­store, and tends to carry mostly non­fic­tion and fic­tion works with an African-American or His­panic bent.  Which is fine for learn­ing new things, but when I need to find some­thing spe­cific that someone’s expressed a wish for, this isn’t the place to find it.

And the other nearby Book­store, which I desparately want to be able to shop at because it’s a sweet lit­tle store in a “down­town” where I can buy meat from a butcher, veg­gies and spices from the mid­dle east pro­duce ven­dor, cheese from a spe­cialty shop, nice tchotchkes from a nice lady in an airy, bright cor­ner store.  But the last three times I’ve gone in there, look­ing for non-obscure books, she hasn’t had any of them.

This last time I needed a book (and yes, shame on me for leav­ing Christ­mas shop­ping until the week before Christ­mas, but hey, crazy lady with a job, here) I delib­er­ately didn’t order two books from ama­zon on the the­ory that both had been well-reviewed and there­fore would be avail­able in an area book­store.  Boy.  I was wrong.   One of the books I wanted to give as a gift was a cooking/travel book that was on everyone’s best­seller lists a year ago, and came out in paper­back this sum­mer– it was well regarded in the lit­er­ary press, and was in the line of those Anthony Bour­dain books that sold like gang­busters.  Seemed safe to believe most sell­ers would carry it.

The other one, Dear Amer­i­can Air­lines, which is both fun­nier than David Sedaris and more poignant and heart­break­ing than Wally Lamb, has got­ten good reviews in major papers, and even ended up on some “best of the year” lists.  And yet, when I asked the pro­pri­et­ess if she had either, she gave me a look and said “never heard of them.”  She looked them up in her com­puter, and said, “Oh, no, I’ve never car­ried either of them.”  I found it hard to con­tain my sur­prise as to the lat­ter book, so I said “Really?  The Miles book had a very, very good review in the New York Times’ Sun­day Book Review.”

Okay.  Look.  I can under­stand that not every­one reads the Sun­day Book Review.  There are lots of bet­ter things to do with your time, really.  But if you’re a book­seller?  Espe­cially one on the East Coast?  Espe­cially one in Boston, where the books on the train are still an excel­lent sur­vey of real fic­tion and non­fic­tion?  Well, I hope you’ll agree that my flab­ber­gast­ed­ness (is that a word? I declare it so.) was rea­son­able when she answered me.

“Oh, I don’t read that.”

And that, right there, is the prob­lem with many smaller brick and mor­tar book­stores.  If I have time, I will go to the trou­ble of order­ing some­thing ahead of time to go pick up– or will plan ahead enough so I have time to go to mul­ti­ple indie stores in one day.  But if I go in need­ing some­thing in par­tic­u­lar, or I’m in the mood to just browse, and the seller’s one of those peo­ple who thinks it would be “fun” to own a book­store, well, you’re just not going to have what I’m look­ing for  or will be inter­ested in buy­ing if you’re only buy­ing off the rec­om­mended list from your dis­trib­u­tor, or what­ever Oprah’s fea­tur­ing this month.  I have encoun­tered this prob­lem more times than I can count.  Good books that get good reviews in major book review pub­li­ca­tions, and they don’t even have one copy– con­sis­tently, every time I go look­ing for a copy.  It makes me sad, because I really would love that square to have a book­store.  But how could I pos­si­bly keep patron­iz­ing a book­store whose pro­pri­etress is so clue­less?  It’s like bang­ing my head against a brick and mor­tar store.  I’ve walked out of there empty-handed too often, and me walk­ing empty-handed out of a book­store is like the sun not ris­ing every day.

Maybe I’m a book­snob.  But if you want me to patron­ize your store?  Please carry at least some of the seriously-reviewed books of the year.  And if I say something’s been well-reviewed in such-and-such pub­li­ca­tion, at least have the audac­ity to lie to me and say you’re fresh out.  Then take note– and go read it.  You might make me believe you did order the one or two copies your small store had room for, and I might actu­ally come back.  I know it takes time.  I know it takes effort and thought.  But if you’re seri­ous about books, and seri­ous about own­ing a book­stores (two dif­fer­ent things, I know), then please, please, do it.

Instead?  The BH had to buy the cook/travel book at the B & N in Har­vard Square, and the Dear Amer­can Air­lines at the Bor­ders down­town.  And a cute lit­tle store in a cute lit­tle neigh­bor­hood lost a customer.

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15 Responses to Those Evil Online Booksellers

  2. Mary Ann | January 1, 2009 at 12:36 pm |

    I feel so for­tu­nate to live in a town with no “big box” book­store, but one of the few brick & mor­tar stores with own­ers who gen­uinely care about their clien­tele. They read the Review, they talk to cus­tomers, they even host artist open houses! They work at being an amaz­ing book­store. When you visit, we’ll go!

  3. phil | January 1, 2009 at 1:20 pm |

    hon­estly, I use the library more than not and if I do get a book as a gift from some­one, after I’ve read it I gen­er­ally donate it to the library.

    the good thing about the library is the local one is part of a con­sor­tium so if I request some­thing, I can usu­ally have it within a week because one of the numer­ous in the net­work gen­er­ally has it

  4. g | January 1, 2009 at 3:01 pm |

    I think we’re ulti­mately talk­ing about two sep­a­rate expe­ri­ences. There’s the expe­ri­ence of “going to find a cer­tain book.” And there’s the expe­ri­ence of “look­ing for some­thing inter­est­ing to read.”

    It’s sim­i­lar to clothes shop­ping. Am I seek­ing out a cer­tain item, like a pink blouse that matches my suit so I can attend the con­fer­ence Fri­day? Or am I brows­ing just to see if there’s some­thing cute I like?

    The expe­ri­ence of going to a brick and mor­tar book­store — whether its a big box store or a small inde­pen­dent one — includes the plea­sure of brows­ing; choos­ing a book by its cover or fly­leaf; get­ting rec­om­men­da­tions, whether by an actual human being or by a more con­trived “our staff rec­om­mends” shelf. It’s about the shop­ping expe­ri­ence. You dis­cover new books and writ­ers like you would dis­cover a cute new frock in a boutique.

    What I like about online book shop­ping is that you can tar­get exactly what you want. All books writ­ten by Author X imme­di­ately come up on your screen for you to choose. Or by sub­ject, nar­rowed down as you wish. It’s more like a library — except a much big­ger one where the books are all avail­able. I gen­er­ally don’t “browse” at Ama­zon, or when I do its a very dif­fer­ent expe­ri­ence than it is in person.

    Like you, BLC, I live in a big city with lots of book­stores. Even so, I was look­ing for one of a famous writer’s less pop­u­lar, ear­lier nov­els. I vis­ited some six book­stores before I gave up and ordered on Ama­zon. Now, I didn’t visit those stores sim­ply for this book; I was already out shop­ping, so I didn’t make a spe­cial trip, but if I HAD, I would still not have the book. (Library didn’t have it either.)

    If you take my expe­ri­ence and move it to a small town — like the one where my mom used to live, with only ONE book­store — then I think Ama­zon is a god­send for people.

    I think suc­cess­ful indy book­sellers are proac­tive about con­nect­ing with their com­mu­ni­ties, so that inter­ests bounce back. If I visit a great loca­tion, and the local indy book­store has a shelf of local authors or books about the place, I defi­nately buy there. Or if there’s an art museum in the next block, have a well-stocked art section.

    Whoops, I’ve gone on a bit, sorry!!!

  5. Jenn @ Juggling Life | January 1, 2009 at 4:00 pm |

    Fun­nier than David Sedaris has def­i­nitely piqued my interest.

    Jenn @ Jug­gling Lifes last blog post..Live Blog­ging New Year’s Eve

  6. savia | January 1, 2009 at 7:12 pm |

    I just added that Dear Amer­i­can Air­lines book to my “must read” list. Thanks for the recommendation!

    Also, I am addicted to Ama­zon. Not only is it cheaper than buy­ing in a book­store, but I like get­ting stuff in the mail because I feel like peo­ple are send­ing me presents :) I know this makes me part of the prob­lem, but…ummm…I recy­cle and stuff. Does that make it better?

    savias last blog post..A res­o­lu­tion I can live with

  7. Allison | January 3, 2009 at 12:30 am |

    New reader, fel­low swanky women’s col­lege > year off > law school > lawyer who cooks.

    I grew up in Boston/Brookline and miss the Mobile Book Fair very, very much. Sigh.

    Alli­son

    Allisons last blog post..Lov­ing life

  8. Susan a | January 3, 2009 at 1:35 pm |

    Yes, I admit it, I have been here before, leav­ing no fin­ger prints. Today I will com­ment…
    I live in Lon­don. The big boys of books here are Water­stones and Bor­ders. And I LOVE them. Seri­ously. I grew up in Por­tu­gal where the book shops are as rar­efied as the air in the Himalaya. There are only small, small book­shops, hardly big­ger than my liv­ing room where there is nor­mally an old and scary woman eying you since the moment you come in till the moment she man­ages to kick you out after snarling some­thing at your ques­tions. The books are in hugely high shelves (acces­si­ble only with lad­ders) and locked away behind a counter guarded fiercely by said old hag. Who also sells over­priced tobacco by the ounce. It is lovely, seri­ously. The smell of tobacco mixed with the moldy woods from the floor and the sounds of the wood bugs munch­ing away. But we pay on aver­age 30 Euros per book– that’s roughly 39 Dol­lars for any given book in a nor­mal paper­back edi­tion. The VAT applic­a­ble to books– yes, I kid you not– is 21%.
    In the UK, the aver­age price for a paper­back is 6.99 or $12. No VAT. Cheaper than McDon­alds. When I moved here, I could have cried, when I could spend a whole Sun­day sit­ting in a leather sofa read­ing undis­turbed by the scores of book buffs that are the staff at these shops. Evil they may be. But, by George, I am ever so grateful!

    Susana (Aka, Bond.jane)

    Susan as last blog post..Blue Moon– Ella Fitzgerald

  9. Bonnie Scott | January 3, 2009 at 3:22 pm |

    Next time you’re in Salt Lake City — ski­ing, legal stuff, gor­geous west­ern expe­ri­ence, mak­ing fun of Mor­mon Church for Prop 8 — don’t miss the King’s Eng­lish Book­store. One of the best in the coun­try. If they don’t have it, they will order it and ship it to you. You can also check them out on-line http://kingsenglish.booksense.com/NASApp/store/IndexJsp. These peo­ple rock — every sin­gle one — par­tic­u­larly Ann Holamn and Jan Sloan.

    From a loyal fan, Bonzize

  10. Bonnie Scott | January 3, 2009 at 3:28 pm |

    PS This store has been in busi­ness for nearly 30 years and depends on cus­tomer loy­alty and praise to keep them going, thumb­ing their noses at the big box stores. They are hang­ing on by their fin­ger­nails so any­one in this nect of the woods should check them out. One of the own­ers and co-founder, Betsy Bur­ton, even wrote a book about run­ning an inde­pen­dent book­store, The Kings Eng­lish, Adven­tures of an Inde­pen­dent Bookseller.

  11. Cheri @ Blog This Mom! | January 3, 2009 at 11:17 pm |

    You know what I really miss? The Sis­ter­hood Book­store in West­wood, CA. Best lit­tle book­store ever. SIGH.

    Cheri @ Blog This Mom!s last blog post..Good Idea Much?

  12. magpie | January 4, 2009 at 2:41 pm |

    It is sad. How can a book­seller not know what’s in the Times bookre­view? That’s all kinds of wrong, in my opinion.

    I’m guilty of Ama­zon, and Half.com, and Paper­back­Swap, and Addall.com. Because, I find what I want. I rarely shop for any­thing in stores any­more. I just haven’t the time or the patience.

    mag­pies last blog post..The Twelve Months That Were

  13. Allison | January 4, 2009 at 6:50 pm |

    I grew up in a town with a fan­tas­tic inde­pen­dent book­seller — Copperfield’s. They were atten­tive to which books were being well-reviewed, they car­ried exten­sive col­lec­tions of used books, and would always order just about any­thing you could think of to request.

    Where I live now, the inde­pen­dents are dying out. We have a few used book­stores — one is impec­ca­bly orga­nized but a bit slim on options. The other appears to be over­flow­ing with titles, but there is no logic to the shop, mak­ing it impos­si­ble to find any­thing. I went in once, in search of Stegner’s “Angle of Repose”, and when I inquired with the woman at the counter, she asked “what kind of book is it?” I replied that I wasn’t sure, but it had been rec­om­mended to me, and I tried to describe some of the other works of his I had read. She then asked “well, what is is about?” — all I could muster was a hos­tile “I don’t KNOW, I haven’t READ it yet.”

    So I do default to the big-box book­stores on occa­sion. Mostly I just take trickle-down loans from my mother, who reads vora­ciously and with whom I share sim­i­lar lit­er­ary tastes. One of my res­o­lu­tions this year is to *gasp* join my local library — but I have no idea yet what their selec­tion is like.

    Allisons last blog post..Just call me the “sneez­ing zombie”

  14. Mrs. G. | January 5, 2009 at 2:04 am |

    I hap­pen to believe if you own a book­store you are OBLIGATED to read the NYT Sun­day Book Review.

    Mrs. G.s last blog post..Big­ger Love Episode 55: The New Year

  15. jess | January 6, 2009 at 3:24 am |

    i think you meant to say “lost a cute, lit­tle cus­tomer.” ;)

    jesss last blog post..a bunch of things…

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