Chapter VIII: Part 8

Publicity involves both editorial and commercial elements. From the editorial side it is of prime importance that the person in charge of the publicity have at the very beginning a complete and definite idea of the reasons that have ruled in the acceptance of a book,--what class of people it was published for, and just what species of a book it is considered to be. Is it purposed to appeal to a certain religious class of people? Is it for the distinctly literary? Perhaps it is one of those volumes on the border line between a juvenile and an adult's book, which may be presented either as a volume for young or for grown-up folks. The publicity man must be in full understanding of this estimate before he can do his work properly. On the commercial side, he must know just the feeling of the trade in regard to an author and any type of book; and must be in close touch with the salesmen, not only at the beginning, but all through the life of the volume. He can learn from them what amount of success the author's previous books have met, and thus be enabled to present his volume in a way that will hitch on to a previous success or avoid the odium of a recent failure. Salesmen can help him to know the interests of every section of the country, so that advantage can be taken of them in bringing the book to the local bookseller's attention and influencing him to a special effort in its behalf.

Few people are aware of the influence exerted by the book clerk, who can substitute something "just as good" much more easily than a drug or dry goods clerk, especially if he has a good argument to offer. The largest part of the publicity of a publishing house is aimed to influence the general reader, but more and more attention is to-day being paid to the salesman in the bookshop, and quite wisely, too. He cannot be expected to read all the books, and any effort made to give him an acquaintance with your books that goes beyond their covers is clear gain to him, to the publisher, and distinctly to the book-buying public.

Now, a book can be made or marred by the publicity it gets. If it is wrongly launched, it will have an uphill climb, whatever its virtues. This is especially true, as a result of the fact that a good deal is written and printed about a book before it is off press and present to speak for itself.

One general rule should be most strictly adhered to in publicity, and that is, be honest and be sincere. Nowhere is the rule "honesty is the best policy" more unanimously justified. You may be as enthusiastic as you please, but the book should be put forward for what it really is. Only under such handling does it stand a chance for the full success its qualities warrant. This all reverts to the question of the editorial conception of a volume. Some books are not made for great sellers; they are written for the keen enjoyment of a select educated few; and if so presented that they fall into the hands of the popular novel devourer, they will surely be condemned, and the condemnation will reach and have its effect upon many who should legitimately have bought the book. On the other hand, a novel of no literary quality thrust into the hands of a person of bookish tastes will make an influential enemy, who will doubtless have among his followers many persons to whom the book would appeal. It is best to find out what people will take the book, and advertise it to them. The process of emasculating your presentation of it by cutting out everything that would keep _anybody_ from reading it is a dangerous one. The dislikes of the world of readers are too many for one to be able to dodge them all, and, after all, most of us like a positive rather than a negative volume. Just because many people do not read essays,--to take an extreme case,--is no reason for avoiding the statement that yours is a volume of essays. Fortunately, there are thousands upon thousands of people who do read essays; and if the book is a good book of essays, they will bring their influence--that word-of-mouth influence which is almost as powerful as a "puff" by President Roosevelt--to bear upon non-essay reading people, and you will be the gainer by that much for your wisdom and honesty.

These observations are germane, and worthy consideration because commercialism and the endeavor to produce big sellers are always an influence to overstate, misstate, and be extravagant in the praise of a volume. But such extravagance always discounts itself in the mind of the reader, and experience has pretty definitely proved that what a prospective buyer wants is a straightforward concise indication of the story and its quality. A word of praise quoted from a review may help him make up his mind, yet he probably knows it is a pretty poor book of which _some_ newspaper doesn't say "Holds the reader's interest from cover to cover" or "We hail the author of this volume as one of the most promising of our American writers."

In considering the practical details of publicity, it will be clearest to take them in chronological order. First: The book should be thoroughly and critically read. The person in charge of the publicity ought to have every volume put into his hands as soon as it is accepted. When he has read it thoroughly and has formed his idea of it, he discusses it thoroughly with the person responsible for its acceptance. From this discussion, in which the sales department is represented, evolves naturally the "editorial attitude" upon which every line of future publicity and every sentence of salesman's talk will be based. Without a complete understanding throughout the establishment of the "editorial attitude" the entire publicity will be aimless and unconvincing.

The first work in publicity on a season's book is probably the catalogue, which must be had ready for the salesmen when they go off on their trips. The aim of the catalogue is to present as full an account of the book as possible. It is meant for the eye of an interested person, who can be counted upon to read rather a lengthy notice. Every possible detail of price, number of illustrations, paper, size, kind of binding, table of contents, previous works by the same author, are given, and thus it becomes a complete reference book. It is the general custom of publishing houses to issue a complete catalogue in the Fall, with a supplemental catalogue in the Spring containing the books of the Spring season. Most firms also bring out a Fall list, to present their Fall books, which would be buried beyond notice in a bulky complete catalogue. In this Fall list not infrequently the Spring books are included, making what is really an annual catalogue. These three catalogues are essential, and they are as a rule supplemented by many special book lists and pamphlets. A holiday catalogue is a steady institution in nearly every publishing house. Its aim is to present to Christmas buyers the most attractive volumes of the house's issue, and it is usually elaborate, with many illustrations, a fine cover, and it is often printed in colors. Then there are frequently issued catalogues of books on special subjects, art, children's books, special editions, etc.

The uses of catalogues are many. A large number are sent to the publisher's best friend, the bookseller,--sometimes imprinted with his name,--who distributes them. They also go out by mail to special lists of people who are known to be interested in books, and a large number are sent to persons who write asking information.

In elaborateness the circular follows close on the catalogue, and it has quite as wide if not a wider field. It is large or small, depending upon the importance of the book. Sometimes it reaches the dignity of a bound pamphlet, but it is usually a single leaf or at most a four-page folder. Here again, all necessary information of price and contents is given at length. But as the person into whose hands the circular falls cannot be counted on to be interested beforehand, the whole make-up and arrangement of the circular is calculated for drawing attention and fixing interest. The circular, therefore, must be made attractive.

And here should be introduced a word in general on the appearance of the printed matter that is sent out by a publishing house. It must be good printing. It must be attractive printing. It is the indication to the people whose eyes it meets of the work of the house it advertises. Few people want to buy badly made books; and, unconsciously, if a circular or catalogue is commonplace and badly printed, those qualities will be attached to the book advertised. And it is quite true, on the other hand, that the distinction and comely appearance of a circular will prejudice in favor of the book. Moreover, a circular's service can be rendered only when it attracts attention, and what is spent in aiding it to catch the eye, through making it artistically beautiful and printing it in color, will bring its return and more in the added efficiency produced. There are, doubtless, people who would not be affected by bad printing, but people of taste, the people who most influence the sale of books, are sure to be antagonized.

Probably, the most useful circular of all is the little leaf or "slip" circular. It is printed on both sides, and is inserted between the leaves of books of similar interest to the one it advertises, usually about three to a book. It is made the size of the ordinary business envelope, for it is also used in direct circularization of lists and as an enclosure with bills, statements, and sometimes with general correspondence. Often, when advertising two or more books, it has four or even eight pages, though the latter makes it almost too bulky for insertion in books. These larger circulars have an order form attached giving the list of books, and a place for the name and address of the prospective buyer,--a device to make it as easy as possible for him to order his selection. When such circulars are inserted in books either the order form is left off, or something substituted in its place, for, as can readily be seen, the order form is a bid for direct business by the publisher which would naturally be obnoxious to the bookseller. Larger and more elaborate circulars than these as a rule are used only for direct circularization. The subject of circularization is much too important and complicated to be exhausted in a few paragraphs, or even in an extended article. Enough has been said here, however, at least to suggest the circular's field.

The next problem in publicity to be taken up is the poster. The poster has had its ups and downs, and in some quarters is a somewhat discredited form of advertising, but it has its value. The booksellers always demand posters. The one great argument against them is that posters good enough to attract attention, that is, with a good design and in colors, are somewhat expensive for book advertising. If properly exhibited, they sell books, but the difficulty lies in the fact that if they are _too_ attractive, they are likely to find their way into a poster collector's portfolio before they have been exposed long on the board. Yet, especially with leading books of fiction, this is one of the risks that must be taken, for with each such publication, the public eye must be caught with the fact of the book's issue, and for this purpose a striking poster has no equal. For serious books inexpensive clear type posters are quite sufficient.

The book being now nearly off press, there will be needed some matter for the paper jacket that slips over and protects the cloth cover while the book is on the stall. Most important is the brief note on the front that serves to indicate the quality of the volume and thus guide the purchaser. On a book of fiction fifty or not more than seventy-five words of the very best possible presentation of the book is required. Here is the place where most of all the prospective purchaser's interest must be aroused. Here the most felicitous publicity inspiration is needed--and the problem is to indicate the story, yet not tell it, and to pique curiosity to the buying point. On books of a serious nature a jacket note is just as essential, if not more so, but the problem is different. The prospective purchaser of such a book as "Irish History and the Irish Question," "The Flower Garden," for example, has an interest in the subject already aroused. What he wishes to know is the scope of the volume and the manner in which the subject is treated. The note for such a volume, therefore, should contain a plain, straightforward statement of the importance of the book, the point of view taken, a brief table of contents indicating the most important divisions of the subject, and some mention of the author's special qualification for writing the volume. On the back of the paper "jacket" and on the little flaps that turn at the sides of a book, it is customary to put advertisements of cognate books. Often these paper jackets are treated in elaborate poster style, and for good reason, since as a rule they are the first part of a book a buyer sees, and his attention is not likely to be attracted if only cheap paper be used.

The date of the book's publication has probably now been set, and the next step in publicity--a most important one--is the sending out of review copies. This is the last thing in which haphazard methods would be permissible. The list of newspapers who get complimentary copies should be carefully selected, not so much with an eye to size of circulation, as to quality and standing. A paper that is known to give attention to books is worth two that have merely large circulations and no distinction; first, because the books sent will be appreciatively reviewed, and, second, because people in the habit of buying books will consult the review columns and be influenced by them. There are possibly one hundred and fifty or one hundred and seventy-five papers in the United States to whom it would be profitable to send a book. A great many more, however, think they should receive them. With even the most popular novel two hundred review copies is a generously sufficient number to place for review. In deciding where these should go, the contents of the book itself is of course the guide. Some books can be calculated to appeal more to one section of the country than to another because of their subject-matter. Certain classes of people--ministers, school-teachers, sportsmen, doctors--can sometimes be drawn upon by the judicious distribution of a few complimentary copies, to assist the sale of a book, and then there is the home of the author, where special attention can always be expected.

Opinions differ as to the amount of influence exerted by reviews upon the fortunes of a book. It is certainly true that to trace direct returns from reviews is often difficult. Frequently books which are splendidly reviewed move slowly, and there seems no explanation of their failure to "catch on." They may be, and frequently are, books of real value and quality. The history of publishing is full of such mysteries. On the other hand, _returns_ are visible enough when a book is slated by the press; there its power is amply evident.

The American press is notably fair, notably discriminating, and notably independent. It gives its own views fearlessly, and resents any efforts made by publishers to get their own adjective-besprinkled puffs printed. In rush seasons it will make use of publisher's description, after carefully blue-pencilling obtrusive adjectives, but it goes no farther. In fact, the newspaper-review part of publishing publicity is best left alone. The book must do the work itself.

The book has now reached the place where that which is commonly called advertising should begin; that is, publicity in newspapers and magazines. The use of newspapers, to any great extent at least, is a comparatively recent development in the publishing business, dating back not much more than ten years. Its efficiency, that is to say, its proportion of return to outlay, is far from being established. While at the beginning of the movement great rewards were reaped, the light of more mature experience seems to show that those books which, under heavy newspaper advertising, reached editions of 100,000 to 150,000 were really special cases,--books of a peculiarly popular, almost low-grade, quality, that had an exceptional public. It is sure that what brought success with them would not succeed with the average publication. For this reason, publishers to-day are by no means as lavish as they used to be with their appropriation for newspaper advertising. Yet even in this era of retrenchment a very large proportion of the money devoted to publicity still goes to the newspapers.

While it would be foolish to attempt formulating a set of fixed rules for newspaper advertising, there are certain underlying principles that should be borne in mind.

Books are in the class of luxuries; most books at least. There is no natural demand for them to assist the advertiser, such as there is for food-stuffs. With a book, it is the advertiser's business to persuade the buyer that he will be interested or instructed or amused by the volume to the value of his outlay, be it a quarter or fifty dollars,--where in the matter of necessities and food commodities the advertiser's task is the much more simple one of proving that his product is intrinsically better or better value than any similar thing on the market. The sale of a book depends entirely upon the almost artificial desire that is created for it, whereas with other things there is a real need, and it is necessary only to prove that the article fills this need. For these reasons book advertising--with piano, picture, music, candy, and perhaps automobile advertising--is difficult to carry out profitably. It is the class most expensive proportionately to the value of the product, for it can count in only the smallest degree upon what is known as the "cumulative" effect of a campaign. Every advertisement of such an article as a breakfast food, for example, whether it be on a bill-board, in a newspaper, or in a circular, adds to the effect of every other one. The repetition of the name, whether it be consciously or unconsciously observed by the public, assists in forcing attention and thus interest, and finally results in a sale. Half a million dollars can be spent in making "Whipped Oats" a household word. Every dollar backs up every other dollar, and the demand for Whipped Oats will last for years. "The Return from Davy Jones," which can have at the very most say $5000 spent on it, benefits the very least from the cumulative effect, and the demand for the book is practically over in a year, especially if it be a popular novel. Each newspaper advertisement of a book must in fact bring returns to pay for itself, and this, of course, demands the very cleverest kind of "copy."

Many elements enter into the popularity and sale-ability of a book, but no one seems to know just what they are. Even the best and most experienced readers fail to pick successes--let big books go by them, and conversely praise volumes that turn out flat failures. Yet certain things in the line of publicity can be counted upon to assist in making a volume's success. The name of a well-known author is the best asset a book can have. That gets it good advance sales and a quick and appreciative attention from the book reviewers. In this respect, nothing could better exemplify the New England homely proverb, "Sich as has, gits." The work of publicity on a book by a well-known author is easy, if care is taken always to bring that author's name forward in connection with his previous achievements. This is especially true in regard to newspaper advertising.

Doctors violently disagree over book advertising principles, and possibly it is best to start by saying that there _are_ none and that each book is a rule unto itself. Certainly a close and careful study of a book's points and the class of people to whom it would likely appeal, its "editorial qualities," is the only proper basis for a campaign. For the average novel by a well-known author the main problem is to let the world know it has been issued. Therefore, in advertising in a newspaper, the announcement of the book's publication should be made in such a manner that all the readers of that paper will notice it. The campaign should start with what is technically known as a "must be seen" notice. It is the publisher's business to shout loud enough to be heard above the clatter of the small advertisements, "Just out--New book by Donan Coyle, 'The Return from Davy Jones.'" If some piquant description of the book follow, this should be sure to send all those readers of the paper interested in Donan Coyle to the bookshop in search of the new volume. Much smaller "ads." following from time to time, that may catch the eye of the forgetful ones and arouse their interest by some words of personal or press commendation on the volume, would close a campaign of this kind, which would have naturally gathered in its trail many readers and even non-readers not distinctly interested in Donan Coyle. It would at least have started the mouth-to-mouth advertising of the book, to which paid-for advertising can after all be regarded only as assistant and support. In fact, when all is said and done the greatest service advertising does is in reminding people of books they have heard praised, and the best advertising is that placed on the road to the bookstalls, a strong argument for the poster, since it is exhibited in front of the bookshop, where it can catch the passer-by. In tune with this conception of the advertisement as an announcement is this general rule--advertise prominently the name of the book, and the author's name if it is important. These are commodities you have to sell, the things you wish people to ask for--just as the bacon-maker wants you to ask for "Blank's Bacons."

For books that have no well-known author's name to assist them, or those for which a large sale cannot be forecasted at the start,--books that appeal to the select few,--other and more inexpensive methods must be pursued. In most such cases it is probable that any advertising in newspapers would be unwise, and this leads to the subject of magazine advertising, which is much higher grade and more suited to such books of quality. There are many distinctly literary publications, the subscribers to which are always searching for books of a fine type--an interested clientele who will read advertising pages rather thoroughly, and gladly pay good prices for good books. Small advertisements--perhaps a page of small advertisements of good books--in a magazine of this class will bring returns, especially if the books have been well reviewed. There are also trade journals, which go to the booksellers, and in these the publisher must announce his new issues well,--describe them thoroughly, and give some idea of what he intends doing in the way of energetic general advertising. The aim of this is to influence booksellers to increase their orders.

These few paragraphs only scratch the surface of a broad subject of extreme interest. Each publishing firm has developed through its experience its own principles of the psychology of public opinion, its own idea of the qualities a book should possess, and its own way of getting at the people. Results are frequently so surprising that one is inclined to class publishing among the games of chance. It is certain that everybody cannot make a success at it, and there is no doubt that it requires a definite endowment of genius.

There falls to the publicity department the writing of a great many letters,--numbers are in answer to questions concerning books and authors, but by far the larger number are in the nature of circulars. The personal typewritten letter or the printed typewritten letter that masquerades as such, has a power equal to a hundred circulars. It claims attention at once, if it does not declare itself an advertisement on the outside, where a printed circular gets swept into the waste-paper basket unread. It's expensive--about three cents a letter if done properly, but when there are special ends to be accomplished, such as calling the attention of the clergy to a novel that would suggest sermons, or the members of an Audubon society to a book on birds, it is the surest and most profitable method.

It is especially in a mail order or subscription book concern that the circular letter is of most use. The expensive sets of such concerns, and the large profit figured on them, justify such a costly method of publicity. It is generally made more expensive by the enclosure in the envelope of return postal cards and other printed material.

This subscription business is a business by itself and conducted quite differently from average publishing. The advertising is lavish, and the underlying principle of it is, that the prospective purchaser wishes a complete description of the wares. Attractive premium, and short-time low-price offers are always made, and the endeavor is to get the prospective customer to permit the set of volumes to be sent on inspection, reliance being held in the ability to make him keep them through the real quality of the books, assisted by a series of "follow up" letters enlarging upon the virtues of the set. Lists of names are circularized, and "follow up" letters used here also to bring orders.

An important form of publicity is that which has grown up as a result of the interest shown by readers, especially in America, in the personality of authors and the desire to know what is happening in the world of books. This very natural and legitimate curiosity affords the publisher a chance to push his products forward in an unobtrusive way. Because it is to all appearances unbiased, it wields quite a deal of influence, especially in building up the reputation of an author. Every paper that pretends to any literary standing prints regularly or occasionally a column of Literary Chat, in which is given brief news of authors and books. There will perhaps be a humorous anecdote of the author of a prominent novel, a brief summary of a book shortly to be issued, some comment by a well-known person on a well-known book, a biographical sketch of a new author, a telling extract from a book of serious value, a note that "The Return from Davy Jones" is in its _n_th edition--all of it really news and of interest. Some newspapers write their own chat, but the majority print, with small alteration, such as is furnished by the publicity departments of publishing houses, which send out weekly or monthly printed or typewritten sheets of such brief items. In this way Donan Coyle as the author of "The Return from Davy Jones" is kept before the public. The public also has a legitimate desire to know something of the appearance of the author of a popular novel or important books of essays, and the newspaper reviewer frequently wishes to print a portrait with his review. Here the publicity department steps in and helps him, by furnishing suitable electrotype portraits upon request, and not infrequently, by sending out proofs with interesting notes, suggests the use of the portrait. The relation between a literary editor who wants to print the book news and a manager of publicity is a mutually beneficial one. If they cooeperate thus, they can be of great assistance to each other, and in the exchange each one gets value received. By a thousand little methods and devices the person in charge of publicity can furnish desired information and get this undersurface publicity, and by putting out _bona-fide_ news and really good stories about them, bring even his lesser light authors into prominence. In this field, as in all others, the well-known authors advertise themselves and set up a demand for publicity.

The financial end of Publicity is full of complexities. The question of how much an expenditure per volume is warranted is one that cannot be answered generally. There are many limiting and defining considerations. First of all, the book itself. If it is the kind to be a "big seller," a risk can possibly be taken on a larger advertising investment than would be warranted in the case of a good book of finer quality and limited appeal. Certain books of coarser, more obvious qualities have a large public if it can be reached. In such cases an exceptional effort will bring exceptional returns. By the risk of a large advertising outlay the firm may get big profits; while a flat failure, because the large, non-book-buying public had not been reached through newspaper and lavish poster advertising methods, might result if only a few hundreds were spent. Judgment of the finest kind is required here, and it cannot always decide rightly.

How much to spend depends essentially upon the book, and there is no hard and fast rule. Books have been known to reach their public and reach good sales at an advertising outlay of about one cent per copy. Others have had fifty cents per copy sold spent upon them, and fallen flat.

The publishing business is not one in which there are great profits, and the margin between the cost of manufacturing and the wholesale price is small. This small amount must furnish the author's royalty, the advertising appropriation, the publisher's cost of doing business, and his profit. It can be seen then that the amount of royalty paid on a book in a certain degree rules the amount of advertising that can be done,--the publisher and author are, in a measure, partners, and if the author demands a large royalty, he thereby cuts down the amount the publisher can afford to expend in advertising his book. The larger the appropriation for advertising, the larger the chance for increased sales.

It is difficult to make any generalization on the amount that should be devoted to publicity. Taking the $1.50 novel as a standard, it might be said that figuring in all kinds of publicity--newspaper, magazine, circular, literary notices, etc.--from ten to twelve per cent of the wholesale price on the first edition of 10,000 would be a liberal allowance. On more expensive volumes, handled as subscription books, a much larger proportion would be the rule. On new books other than fiction, where the sale could not be expected to reach more than a few thousand, there would be no business justification in spending so much. Such books have more or less to make their own way.

Publicity is an essential part of the publishing business, and the breadth of its field, as well as the proper way to apply its influence, is beginning to be more correctly understood. Fortunately, for all concerned, the author as well as the publisher and the book-buying public, it is a power that can work only for good, and in a good cause. It hastens the fame and the sales of a really good book, but its power with a bad book is very small indeed. One fact has developed from the thousands of book advertising campaigns, and it is this--that you cannot force a really worthless book down the throat of the American reading public however much money you put into advertising. You may create a big sale for a very light and frothy story, with little to recommend it from the literary critic's point of view, but you can be sure, if it succeeds, your novel has certain positive, if rather superficial virtues, either in the story, in the local color, or in the method of telling. And when one contemplates the huge success of Mrs. Humphry Ward's and Edith Wharton's distinguished novels, one is obliged to accept the comforting conviction that the reading public of this country knows a good book when it sees it.

REVIEWING AND CRITICISING

By Walter Littlefield.

About 60,000 volumes are annually published in Germany, France, Italy, Great Britain, and the United States. Germany heads the list, with something less than 25,000, and the United States ends it, with between five and six thousand titles, although it should be added that Continental figures refer to all material bearing an imprint published for circulation whether pamphlet or book. Aside from purely scientific and specialistic publications those intended for public perusal of all grades of literacy and intelligence may be classified as history, biography, travel, _belles-lettres_ (including art, criticism, and poetry), and fiction. It is the work of the literary critic to write about these books in such a manner that neither the author nor the public may suffer injustice by their purchase or non-purchase. The critic must explain their purpose, point out their merits and imperfections, and compare their features with the features of other books on the same subject. In short, he should tell the public whether to read the book or not. He should do so in an entertaining manner.

Now the way this end is achieved in America often excites the derision of the literary foreigner; for although most American reviews are readable enough, they often lack the critical emphasis and literary scope and color so conspicuous in the literary criticism of the British and Continental reviews. But the foreigner overlooks the fact that American reviewers usually have something to say about every publication which claims to appeal to a reading public, and that many of these would be absolutely ignored by foreign critics, who are possibly right--when we consider their readers--in selecting only what they deem worthy of their knowledge and critical acumen. The foreign man-of-letters' idea of what should constitute the functions of the critic I find most admirably laid down in Mr. Arthur Symons's introduction to a new edition of Coleridge's "Biographia Literaria" in Everyman's Library. Mr. Symons writes:--

The aim of criticism is to distinguish what is essential in
the work of a writer; and in order to do this, its first
business must be to find out where he is different from all
other writers. It is the delight of the critic to praise;
but praise is scarcely a part of his duty. He may often seem
to find himself obliged to condemn; yet condemnation is
hardly a necessary part of his office. What we ask of him
is, that he should find out for us more than we can find out
for ourselves: trace what in us is a whim or leaning to its
remote home or centre of gravity, and explain why we are
affected in this way or that way by this or that writer. He
studies origins in effects, and must know himself, and be
able to allow for his own mental and emotional variations,
if he is to do more than give us the records of his likes
and dislikes. He must have the passion of the lover, and be
enamored of every form of beauty; and, like the lover, not
of all equally, but with a general allowance of those least
to his liking. He will do well to be not without a touch of
intolerance: that intolerance which, in the lover of the
best, is an act of justice against the second-rate. The
second-rate may perhaps have some reason for existence: that
is doubtful; but the danger of the second-rate, if it is
accepted "on its own merits," as people say, is that it may
come to be taken for the thing it resembles, as a wavering
image in water resembles the rock which it reflects.

Obviously, here in America we have a sympathetic tolerance for the "second-rate." But such tolerance is not without its excuse. The fault of the uncritical element in many of the book notices which appear in American newspapers and magazines lies to a large extent at the door of the author who gives us material which humiliates and silences criticism, although a certain expository attention must be given for the very fact that the book invariably has a public awaiting it. For such gratuitous attention the author should be grateful. At least his public is not misled.

Literary criticism is a distinct department of literature, with its functions and limits as clearly defined as are those of any of the creative departments,--history, biography, fiction. It presupposes on the part of the writer the possession of a knowledge of permanent literature, of the rules of literary construction, of trained taste in selecting models, and of a quick imagination capable of perceiving pertinent comparisons and setting forth vivid impressions. Writers like Lessing, Victor Cousin, Matthew Arnold, and Jules Lemaitre have exercised in criticism a system which is quite as capable of exposition and analysis as that of the historian, the poet, or the novelist. In America this system has also done its best, without entirely prostituting its art, to meet the exigencies and claims of pseudo-literary production and its sympathetic, impressionable public.

Until within quite recent years there were only two acknowledged schools of criticism: the scientific and the classical. The former gauged the work to be criticised by rule and measure; the latter compared it with models which had long been established as criterions of good taste. Then came the impressionistic school, in which the critic, while not unmindful of accepted and approved rules of construction and expression or of classical paradigms, allowed the author more license, more individuality, and permitted himself the same freedom in noting a thing good, bad, or indifferent, because it so appealed to his personal taste at the time of perusal and quite independent of what had gone before. This impressionistic criticism is essentially a personal view, and without it very few current books could be considered critically at all.

Now of the 5000 odd books annually brought out in the United States there are possibly not more than 100, including half a dozen novels, which are worthy subjects for the professional critic. If this be deemed an exaggeration, one has only to look over the Publishers' List of twenty-five years ago and see how many books then published are read to-day. Why, then, do the 4900 receive any attention?

Books, like every other commercial commodity, whether presented under the guise of art or science, have their production regulated by the law of supply and demand. The ability to read print in the United States is pretty general, and this ability is diffused among all sorts and conditions of people of vastly varied ideas as to what may give instruction, satisfaction, or pleasure in the form of books. We know that a large majority of the people who read do not read what is considered the best. The enormous circulation of the "Yellow Press," the low literary value of books of rapidly succeeding phenomenal editions, prove this. Criticism, except in acknowledged "literary" reviews, has been obliged to take into account the mental limitations and tastes of the readers of the 4900 books, and so it fixes its standard of popular exposition and elucidation at a little above the average taste, and does its best to explain according to the author's own lights what to criticise would be remorselessly to condemn.

But do all the one hundred worthy and elect books receive correct treatment according to the tenets of criticism? it may be asked. Probably not at every hand and in all cases. And here may be introduced another cause of the lack of proficient literary criticism noticed by the literary foreigner in American magazines, and especially in those pages of the daily and weekly press devoted to books. The discussion of books which once occupied several pages in American monthly magazines is now principally confined to the books issued by the publishing house which also publishes the magazine. What has come to be known as the "news value" of books cannot suffer a review of a novel by a prominent author or of a book on a current political or sociological topic to appear a month or two or three after the publication of the book itself. The eagerness of the public can hardly wait for an elaborate review in the press. Thus the newspapers rival one another in setting before their readers the first "news" of the book. It is usually impossible to expect "criticism" in such active circumstances. The public neither expects nor desires it. This leads to expositions in which are incorporated generous citations from the book, and from this the public is invited to form its own opinion. When such an exposition is properly done, a reader can tell whether he wishes to peruse the book as a whole. In late years this system of exposition has been growing in popularity,--a popularity no doubt augmented by the reader's increasing desire to be his own critic,--so now only the more important historical, biographical, and travellers' books receive expert criticism. Why wait months to get expert opinion on a popular book on Russia, Ibsen, or a journey in search of one of the poles, while the public is impatient to find out simply whether the book is entertaining? And again, how expert is expert opinion? I know of one famous biography of a famous man which, having been accepted as "the" authority for five years, finally had its pretensions demolished, its citations proved a mass of forgeries, by one tireless and persevering critic who would not accept the "expert" opinion which lauded it to the skies shortly after its publication.

Now that criticism, or rather the lack of it, has been explained, it may be of some interest to learn how the vast number of books which is annually put forth is handled by the editors of literary reviews and the "book pages" of the daily press. Having for nearly ten years been connected with the literary supplement of a New York daily which prides itself on ignoring nothing which is published with the idea of being read, my experiences for observation have been somewhat unusual. The increase in the number of books, and the eagerness of the public to learn about them at the earliest possible moment, have caused the daily press to usurp some of the functions formerly enjoyed by the monthly reviews. The latter do little more than mention the vast majority of publications and confine more and more their critical talents to what they consider conspicuous and distinctive literary productions. Purely literary periodicals have come and gone and left few mourners. The pages of The Bookman, for example, are no longer confined to literary criticism, to essays on bookish topics, to gossip of author and publisher.

There are four distinct publishing periods in the book world. The early spring season, principally confined to those books which could not be made ready to meet the recent holiday season, and to routine books,--books which on account of copyright exigencies have to be published then, books which for prestige the publisher would have bear his imprint, etc. Then comes the late spring season, which is principally confined to novels of the lighter sort and to books for supplementary school reading for the coming autumn. Toward the end of August the first Holiday books usually make their appearance. They increase in number until the end of September, when there is a lull. From the middle of October until the end of November there is a perfect outpour of books. The months of November and December until Christmas Day are the busiest times in the year for the reviewer.

As the books come in they are carefully looked over by the one who is known as the "critic" of the review or paper. He has men and women on his lists whose pens he has tried before--they may be lawyers, college professors, sportsmen, society men, professional novel readers, etc. He considers the author of the book at hand, its seeming importance, etc., and despatches it to a critic. An expert writer of expositions is usually ready to relieve him of volumes upon which for some reason he does not feel justified in requesting expert opinion. Occasionally he makes a mistake by giving out for exposition a really important book. The expert who has been impatiently waiting for the volume points out the error. The work of a well-known novelist is usually sent to a critic who is familiar with former tales by the same author. Juveniles are handed over to one of proved sympathy with stories for boys and girls--one who is conservative yet quick to catch a new element. Books that are essentially for gifts are disposed of in a similar manner--to one who has proved his or her ability to set forth artistic features in books. New editions of classics are turned over to writers who are acquainted with the mechanical make-up of a book, so that the reader may learn whether the new edition of the favorite author is well bound, printed, and appropriately decorated and illustrated. And among the hundreds of "brief notices," expositions, impressions, descriptions, and long and short essays that are handed in, there are invariably some pieces of valuable comment which are well in keeping with the traditions of professional criticism. The critic usually returns the book with his article. These books are ultimately collected and disposed of in various ways. They may be sold at auction to members of the staff, which is an effective way of getting rid of them just before Christmas.

Is there any likelihood of an improvement in literary criticism--any chance of a return by the daily press to what the Reviews of the past gave and those of England and the Continent still give? The standard of criticism is determined by two forces: the quality of books and the taste of would-be purchasers. If every book were really "criticised," the criticisms of many would be utterly incomprehensible to many of their possible readers. The public gets the books it desires; the books receive the attention they deserve. When the standard of reading shall be raised, so that the public shall demand better books, it will be found that more books will receive "serious" attention. As it is at present, the public does not desire much elaborate, fine criticism. It, together with its favorite authors, would be sorely dissatisfied if it got more. It may be added that, in my humble opinion, the function of a critic as an arbiter of literary taste is measurably overestimated. Of course, a man who has won distinction as a judge of books and who signs his articles may have some influence. But it seems to me that the function of the anonymous reviewer should begin and end by explaining the book and let the public be its own critic. It will certainly be in the end. For no critic ever killed a good book; none ever praised an unworthy volume into success and fame.

THE TRAVELLING SALESMAN

By Harry A. Thompson.

The increase in the visible supply of authors more than meets the demand. A manuscript once accepted, the publisher finds no lack of paper makers ready to supply him with any grade of fair white paper that he may wish to spoil. Printers even manifest a dignified alacrity to set the type and print the book, and binders are yet to be accused of any disinclination to cover it.

It is only when author, paper maker, printer, and binder have done with their share in the exploitation of literature that the publisher finds that the current which had been urging him gently onward has set against him. Of making many books there is no end, but the profitable marketing of the same is vanity and vexation of spirit.

Enter the salesman.

He is to convince the bookseller, who is to convince the public, that this particular book--shall we, for our purpose, christen it "Last Year's Nests"?--is the great American novel (whatever that means), and that its influence on the reading of unborn generations will be measured by the rank it holds in the list of the six best sellers.

The salesman is handicapped not a little by the fact that it is neither shoes, nor pig-iron, nor even mess-pork that he is selling, and, therefore, superior quality of workmanship, inferior price, and personal magnetism count for little. Persuasiveness, which, perhaps, is a part of personal magnetism, counts; so does an intelligent knowledge of the contents of the book; likewise hard work and tactful persistence; also, honesty. But opposed against the combination is the bookseller, on guard against overstocking, to some extent a purchaser of a pig in a poke, conscious that one unsold book eats up the profit on five copies safely disposed of.

Time was when good salesmanship consisted in overstocking a bookseller; this was occasioned less by persuasiveness than by overpersuasiveness. Regardless of the merits of the book and with no more than a nodding acquaintance with its contents, a persuasive salesman could "load" a customer--as he called it out of the customer's hearing--with two hundred and fifty copies of a novel that had no other merit than that it had been written by a novelist whose previous book had met with success. The significance of these figures, two hundred and fifty, is to be found in the maximum discount to retailers of forty and ten per cent on that quantity. Latterly, the publisher has found that a bankrupt bookseller has few creditors besides publishers, and has come to a realizing sense of the futility of clogging the distributing machinery. He is disposed, therefore, to exercise some restraint upon his salesman's ardor. Perhaps it were better to say that the salesman, grown wiser, is more disposed to aid the bookseller in his purchases to the end that no monuments of unsold failures will stare him in the face on his next visit to the customer's store. Yet even to this day, such restraint is tempered by a certain amount of moderation.

All of which, while interesting to the historian of the publishing trade, carries us too far in advance of our text. Let us therefore return to "Last Year's Nests"--12mo, cloth, illustrated, gilt top, uncut edges, price $1.50.

The first edition--it may be one thousand copies or ten thousand--has been delivered to the publisher by the beaming binder, who alone, in some instances, knows his profit on them. "Last Year's Nests" is by a well-known author, and contains some elements of popularity. The literary adviser has written a beautiful and scholarly appreciation of it, one of the lady stenographers has declared it grand, and the salesman, if he is given to reading anything beyond the title-page, says it's a corker. He starts out with it; along with a trunkful of other books, to be sure, but our sympathies are wholly with the "Nests," and it is only its career that we shall follow.

He may be one of a force of salesmen, each of whom has his own territory. One may visit only the larger cities, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Pittsburg, Chicago; another may take in the smaller towns along this route; another, the Middle West, Southern or Southwestern territory. Still another, the cities west of Chicago, including those on the Pacific coast. Houses publishing competitive lines and non-copyright books have other methods and machinery for distribution. I speak only for the copyright salesman, and not to be too prolix, take only the copyright novel as an illustration of the day's work.

The salesman arrives at a town, say Chicago. He goes to the hotel, orders his trunks and sample tables sent to his room. The tables are set up--well-worn pine boards on trestles and covered with sheeting. He unpacks his trunk and arranges his books on the tables as effectively as his artistic sense permits. Then he visits his customers and makes appointments that cover a full week. Previous to his arrival his office had informed the booksellers of his coming, inclosing a catalogue. This the bookseller handed to a clerk to be marked up. The clerk had gone over their stock of this particular publisher's books and had marked opposite each title in the catalogue the number of copies on hand. Armed with this catalogue the bookseller keeps his appointment at the room of the traveller. [It ought to be mentioned in passing that this is a purely hypothetical case, invented for the purposes of illustration. The clerk who marks up the catalogue in advance of the salesman's arrival is as fictitious as the bookseller who keeps his appointment promptly. Perhaps this delightful uncertainty is another of the many influences that make the book business, from the writing of the manuscript to the reading of the printed book, so fascinating.]