Hardback, Paperback and E-back

I had a conversation the other day about The Secret War and the whole issue of publishing it in hardback. The argument – sorry conversation – centred around price, or rather cost to the reader, and while the discussion wasn’t vociferous it did raise a few valid points about format.

At the moment there are three distinct formats for the good ol’ novel – four if you include softback, or five if you include audio (but I’m confusing the issue, so let’s go back to three, shall we?)

The humble paperback is the cheapest means of reading – apart from borrowing from the library or stealing. Depending on the volume of pages, it can be flexible, some can still fit in your back pocket if you’re that way inclined; they’re instantly transportable, cost very little in the great scheme of things (especially if bought second-hand), and if you’re prone to treating your possessions with neglect, see the last point. Ruining a paperback (which is easily done) isn’t going cause you to weep (unless it’s a signed first edition). It’s also a format where you might be tempted to experiment and make a speculative purchase knowing bugger-all about the author or the book. If it’s crap… well, that’s just a mere fiver or so down the drain. The cost of 2 pints of beer, or 1 if you live in London.

The hardback is the Rolls Royce of formats – the sturdily bound book with the dust jacket, almost guaranteed not to fall apart unless you drop it in the bath. It’s the format that weighs as much as the words – a format that makes you feel like you’re reading something epic… Yes, that’s it: an epic format, like watching a film at the cinema rather than watching it on ITV with adverts. And if you’re lucky to be published by Macmillan New Writing, that cinema is Leicester Square: MNW books are immaculately presented with a ribbon, a great typeface - and typos apart - it’s one of the best examples of hardback publishing around.
But it comes at a price – the same price as a round of drinks, or maybe a round of drinks for three people if you live in London – and maybe just one if you go to those really poncey places… (you get the picture).
A reader is less inclined to make a speculative purchase on something that costs on average twice as much as a paperback, something they won’t want to read in the bath for fear of accidents, nor something too bulky to take with them on the bus. Ever tried reading the hardback version of Lord of the Rings on the daily commute? Don’t try it unless you’ve hands the size of shovels and aren’t prone to hernias.

So apart from Mr Shovelly Hands MD, who else will buy hardbacks? Well, anyone who adores certain authors. For me it’s Clive Barker – without fail I’ll buy his books in hardback. I might even buy hardbacks of previously unread authors at your local remainder bookstore, because they are on occasion as cheap as a paperback (I bought China Mieville’s Iron Council that way – a first edition that was even signed – all for a couple of quid less than the paperback retail).
But go into a bookshop and see a new author in hardback and ponder a purchase? It’s a tall ask I grant you – hence why I suspect the MNW print runs are relatively small. So why publish them at all in hardback?
Well, I think it’s down to two things: collecting and prestige. The hardbacks are going to appeal to certain sets of people. Firstly it will appeal to friends of the author – someone who has a connection to the writer and doesn’t mind shelling out muchos dosh for a copy. These numbers aren’t going to be high, though.
Next there’s the collecting risk-takers – those buyers who might be thinking they have a new Cornwell, Grisham or King in the making and a signed, high quality first edition hardback would be worth muchos money later in their careers. For example, signed copies of The Secret War have already changed hands at around £50 – which is ego-inflating, yet also bewildering.
Then you have those where money is no object: those who like the idea of the book and have enough cash to make a speculative buy.
Finally you have those who are buying it through recommendation. That could be through a review in newspapers/magazines, t’internet or usually from recommendations from friends, i.e. word of mouth (but then you have the chicken and the egg scenario unless those friends come from the three previous groups of readers).

Adding that all up… unless you’re really, really lucky and the publisher has thrown muchos advertising money at the whole thing, you’re not really going to make muchos moolah from your first novel.

As a debut writer published in hardback, there is a conflict. You want to entice the reader into buying your book – usually speculatively. You want to reduce as many barriers as possible, that means getting the book in as many shops as you can. And you want it to sell – because if it sells, then the closer you come to realising that dream: writing full-time.
But there’s something about being in hardback that makes it feel – well - special. It’s an impressive looking format – and more – it’s a format that’s built to last. I will never have the problem in years to come of having to trawl bookshops old or new for copies of The Secret War, because mine are falling apart through wear and tear. My copies will last for years and years – Armageddon apart – and will be handed down through generations of family. The hardback is a deep footprint – sometimes in concrete – rather than a fleeting one on the beach. That’s why I would still choose hardback over paperback - as a writer – ‘cos it is not only about the sales.

I guess this view could change if I never see The Secret War in paperback – other than Wachter der Schatten. If that obstacle to reaching further readers is never removed then I will see it as a missed opportunity. But we’ll see. Nothing is certain.

And as for the e-book… Well, that’s less certain than most. We’ll just see what happens with this, as we will with Google Book Search. Electronic is all well and good, but you can’t read an e-book in the bath unless you happen to be Mr Shovelly Hands MD with stacks of cash to spare, where the odd accident with your e-reader won’t be a catastrophe…

(…but still I wouldn’t advise it!).