There’s an excellent interview at The Scowl with Jonathan Messinger (see, pun, not typo, and stolen from the name of his blog), known to some as the Books Editor of Time Out Chicago and to others as the co-publisher of Featherproof Books an operation which, alongside Underland Press and Two Dollar Radio, will make my decision to leave Soft Skull look like I was just trying to get out before the cool new folks obliterated me.

Some useful points to chew over, including their subscription series, and their mash-up promotion, both activities you know I’ve been advocating lo these many years (OK, well, 2 years and 4-5 years respectively…) and at which they arrived, as have so many others, utterly independent of any of my beseechings, but I’d draw attention to his discussion of the third of my bugaboos, the pointless zero sum game approach to format:

What it always devolves to is one person clinging to what they’ve grown up with and accustomed to–the printed book, this classic, vaunted, untouchable commodity–and self-appointed visionaries who see digital distro as the obvious wave of the future, plowing down the fogies and fuddy-duddies.

If we de-politicize it, it becomes a much more open, interesting discussion. My feeling is that both media offer something that the other doesn’t. So why should one replace the other? What does digital do best? It readily reaches a much broader audience, costs significantly less money, has multimedia capacity. But print does some things better, too: trades in immediacy for longevity, has a tactile, textured component that digital hasn’t been able to replicate. There’s also a great single-mindedness about print that I enjoy. So I don’t worry so much whether print will “die” or “survive,” I’d rather just think about how best to use print creatively””what can it do that nothing else can, what are its limits and how do we test them?

But mostly, I’m interested in how digital and print can interact. That’s why we started our Featherproof Remix series, which releases part of a new book, and invites writers to rewrite and rearrange it. We then publish the best submissions as an ebook, a few weeks before the print book hits bookstores (and, of course, our books are available as ebooks). I guess what I mean is that both are great, and interactivity is much more interesting to me than exclusivity.

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Unlike a regular cocktail party, book launches provide a portable, thick but light flat surface on which to put down your plate allowing you greater mobility to navigate the room and rub elbows with the other attendees. This presumes you have bought the book being launched.

(Via @drmabuse)

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A couple of weeks before I left, I got the most gorgeous email from one of my authors (yes, I’ve left, but first person possessive doesn’t exclude her from being someone else’s author either, OK, like Seal, and City Lights, and Suspect Thoughts who’ve all published her, and whoever replaces me…), Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore, an Utne Visionary and editor of That’s Revolting, a book we published in 2004, and reissued last year. I knew I wanted to keep it till my own blog was ready so I could post it here, and herewith:

You know when you have a friend who you think will always be there — no matter what, at least you’ll have that friendship, right? Lostmissing is a public art project about the loss of that relationship, a specific relationship for me–right now it’s missing. I want to express myself in public space in a way that feels personal and more meaningful than a private expression because I want to connect to other people and other lostmissing stories. This project is a public expression of grief in order to feel hopeful again–it’s about that random poster you see and you don’t know what it means but your eyes get bright all the sudden.

I will be putting these posters up everywhere I can think of, and posting photos of the posters in public space, and even making new posters out of those photos and then posting photos of those new posters too. And I’m giving the posters out to people to put them up in their own towns and kitchens and living rooms and bathrooms and galleries and meeting spaces and community centers and bars and workplaces and on the street and on abandoned buildings in bus shelters and on public transportation at shows of all kinds and on bulletin boards and in store windows and in letters and in taxis and on the internet and near dramatic views and tourist attractions and in your own art and wherever else you can think of. I want to make this expression of sadness and anger into something collective, and I want people to add their own lostmissing stories to the posters if they want to, and then I want people to send revised posters or photos of posters in public or private spaces, affixed in any way you find appropriate, and then I’ll post it all on my blog and maybe make a zine or a handmade book or some form of documentation that puts it all together. What do you think?

Feel free to click the images on my blog as I post them, and print out the JPEG and post everywhere. I can also send you hard copies of the posters as I make them, or a PDF of each poster as it arrives — just let me know, and I’ll make sure to send them your way! You can leave me a message here, or feel free to email or call or write — all my info is here….

Yay — I’m so excited!

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Can’t help myself from posting the new Fall 2009 catalog from Soft Skull/Counterpoint. Email the publicity interns for review copies of anything that grabs your eye…

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So, I’m feeling slightly infuriated, and all because of one little sentence, a brief almost parenthetical comment by a book industry person in response to the posting of Cory Doctorow’s very nice account of the importance of the publisher’s sales rep to the building of buzz around book titles.

This is the kind of longitudinal, deep, expensive expertise that gets books onto shelves, into the minds of the clerks, onto the recommended tables at the front of the store. It’s labor-intensive and highly specialized, and without it, your book’s sales only come from people who’ve already heard of it (through word of mouth, advertising, a review, etc.) and who are either motivated enough to order it direct, or lucky enough to chance on a copy on a shelf at a store that ordered it based on reputation or sales literature alone, without any hand-holding or cajoling.

Exactamundo. The first email I sent, after the announcement of my resignation, was to the Publishers Group West sales force, to thank them, because their work was the only reason anyone gave a fuck about my resignation.

However, this comment, given on the Facebook forwarding of this note, included a sentence to the effect that this was a nice article, given all the blather “about the death of the book.”

People, the book will live on with the publishing business!!! That is not really what is changing, and to the extent that it might be, it will only be because the writers and the readers want it to.

The book isn’t in trouble, it’s that everyone who takes some of the money that a consumer pays for an author’s content need to re-justify their share and not assume that because they used to get that % they still in fact deserve that %. And I sense too many people hiding behind the notion that this has something to do with grandiose cultural notions about the life and death of the book rather than more quotidien concerns about the vision and competence of individuals populating this business.

On one extreme, booksellers, wholesalers, sales reps, publicists, editors, and agents could all fail to make a good case for a piece of the action; another extreme is that they all succeed in making that case. Unsurprisingly, I think it will likely be somewhere in the middle–some intermediaries are likely to be necessary, others not. I firmly believe that people with the talent to persuasively communicate the merits of cultural content are going to do immensely well in the future (and, depending on their inclinations, immense could mean lots money, or lots high-brow authority, or both, or something else immense entirely) and I suspect that people who are now publishers’ sales reps, and indie booksellers, and publicists, and so forth will number amongst those.

Who exactly, and structured in which way, that’s what remains to be seen. But the book is fine. Focus on connect writers and readers and you won’t have to ask for whom the bell is tolling.

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Anne Trubek at GOOD Magazine has Good Magazine us that computers needs books too, at least in order to provide the metaphors human’s needed in order to apprehend how to use them:

As my “spot the metaphor” game intends to show, we understand computers through the imprimatur of books. When those first Dells and Apples started rolling off the assembly line, us early adopters needed some help understanding them. We needed something familiar with which to navigate, conceptualize, and just plain figure out these then-revolutionary devices. So we drew upon books to structure our gradual accommodation to computers (bookstores, too: why do you think we “browse” a website?”). After all, it took centuries for people to get comfortable enough with the the codex to finally give up (almost) on the scroll.

But now that we are as familiar with screens as we are with rectos, what next?

Trubek acknowledges she doesn’t have the definitive answer, but she’s already made a useful point–reading arches maybe a little higher over human activity than is often acknowledged.

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