Bookstore Payola
It's not often that you find an expose on a sordid practice in the Sunday New York Times book review section, but last weekend, the article "Cash Up Front" investigated a phenomenon that I would term "bookstore payola". It refers to the practice of publishers paying bookstores to prominently display certain books. One bookseller that engages in this practice is Barnes & Noble:
In fact, if there were nothing wrong with this practice, you'd think that neither the publishers nor the booksellers would be ashamed of it. But they are. In fact, according to the article, "Trying to get publishers or booksellers to talk about display agreements, even off the record, is like trying to persuade Mafiosi to break the oath of omertá. One respected New York publishing executive contacted by this reporter couldn't get off the phone fast enough when asked about it."
I am having a hard time finding this any different from the payola scandals of the 1950s--although, it should be pointed out, many in the music industry will say that new and more subtle forms of payola exist in that industry today.
I love going to the sorts of independent bookstores where the employees have taped pieces of paper to the shelves under books that they liked, with handwritten reviews explaining why the books are so good. That kind of personal service is, of course, stands in contrast to the large, impersonal, corporate bookstore chains that take payment from booksellers to prominently display certain books.
Consumer choices are inevitably influenced by what others may recommend. This is especially true in the arts--movies, books, plays. We read reviews so that we can get an idea if a particular work of art is worth investing our time and money in. When the integrity of the recommendations that we receive are subject to question, the ability to make intelligent, informed consumer choices crumbles. We become beholden to the information that is bought and sold for us.
Yet this is the overwhelming reality of the modern capitalist marketplace. Powerful interests, with powerful motivation for influencing the information that you receive about the choices available to you, use the cash nexus to alter the information that is distributed to you. It often happens subtly, behind the scenes, in ways that even the perpetrators findembarrassingg. Capitalism makes information a commodity, like anything else, bought and sold. Because we are dependent on information, we are ultimately dependent on those who buy and sell it. In this way, often without realizing it, the "free consumer" is not really free.
It is known, somewhat deceptively, as a cooperative advertising agreement. In plain terms, it means that many of the books on display at the front of a store or placed face out at the end of an aisle are there because the publisher paid for them to be there, not necessarily because anyone at the bookstore thought the book was noteworthy or interesting.The article specifically backs away from identifying this practice with payola, even saying that there is nothing unethical about it. It also compares it to similar practice in grocery stores And yet, the article also points out, "the practice seems less savory in bookselling, where bookstore owners and managers were once assumed to serve as an editorial presence, recommending and featuring books they liked." It also admits that "bookstores don't tell customers about it."
Under such programs, booksellers -- mostly chains, but also larger independent stores -- keep a certain percentage of a publisher's net sales, usually 3 percent to 5 percent annually, depending on the agreement with the publisher. This money is then parceled out for various purposes, to help, for example, defray the bookseller's advertising costs, when a chain takes out ads or prints fliers to promote certain books. But the publisher's money may also buy coveted space on the store's front tables or on tall, highly visible racks, known as stepladders, announcing to customers that these books are considered the most important in the store.
In fact, if there were nothing wrong with this practice, you'd think that neither the publishers nor the booksellers would be ashamed of it. But they are. In fact, according to the article, "Trying to get publishers or booksellers to talk about display agreements, even off the record, is like trying to persuade Mafiosi to break the oath of omertá. One respected New York publishing executive contacted by this reporter couldn't get off the phone fast enough when asked about it."
I am having a hard time finding this any different from the payola scandals of the 1950s--although, it should be pointed out, many in the music industry will say that new and more subtle forms of payola exist in that industry today.
I love going to the sorts of independent bookstores where the employees have taped pieces of paper to the shelves under books that they liked, with handwritten reviews explaining why the books are so good. That kind of personal service is, of course, stands in contrast to the large, impersonal, corporate bookstore chains that take payment from booksellers to prominently display certain books.
Consumer choices are inevitably influenced by what others may recommend. This is especially true in the arts--movies, books, plays. We read reviews so that we can get an idea if a particular work of art is worth investing our time and money in. When the integrity of the recommendations that we receive are subject to question, the ability to make intelligent, informed consumer choices crumbles. We become beholden to the information that is bought and sold for us.
Yet this is the overwhelming reality of the modern capitalist marketplace. Powerful interests, with powerful motivation for influencing the information that you receive about the choices available to you, use the cash nexus to alter the information that is distributed to you. It often happens subtly, behind the scenes, in ways that even the perpetrators findembarrassingg. Capitalism makes information a commodity, like anything else, bought and sold. Because we are dependent on information, we are ultimately dependent on those who buy and sell it. In this way, often without realizing it, the "free consumer" is not really free.
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