Tuesday Musing: The Sony Reader

I mentioned a while back that my company handed out Sony e-Readers to some of the employees. The idea to relate my experiences with it got shoved on the backburner, but never quite went away.

Now that I've had a couple of months to play around and get a better feel for it, it's review time!

For the moment, let's put the comparison to flesh-and-blood paper-and-ink books aside, and look at the Reader as a device on its own.

Full disclosure: I'm a fan of gadgets. There are many people out there far more cutting-edge than I, but I have my iPod and my digital camera. My cell phone can flip around and be used as a keyboard for texting. The oooh-shiny factor for this is certainly high.

It's lightweight - just a bit bigger than a mass market paperback - and slim enough that I keep it in my purse. The interface is pretty self-explanatory, and the type is easy on the eyes. It's not like you're reading stark black-and-white words off of a computer screen. The font size can be increased or decreased to make reading easier.

You can bookmark pages in what you're reading, but at the moment there's no way to jot down your own notes about why you bookmarked whatever it was.

It can store a lot of books at once. So, if you're going on a trip and don't want to pack five different books into your carry-on (because you might finish this one, or not be in the mood for that one right now, or you only have a hundred pages left in your current one and your husband has been known to steal the backup book because he finished his first, leaving you with nothing but Skymall until he drifts off and you can steal it back from his sleeping grasp...), the Reader is a good way to carry a lot of books without lugging around your own weight in fiction.

There's an option to organize your books into collections - perhaps you want to keep the horror from touching the romances, or you have books you're reading for pleasure and books you're using for research. The program you use to transfer books from your computer to the eReader allows you to arrange them in whatever groupings make you happy.

The battery is supposed to last about 7,500 page turns before it needs recharging. I find mine to be draining much faster than that, closer to every 1,000. However it doesn't take that long to charge back up.

There are two different spots that control pageturning, one in the bottom left-hand corner and another along the right-hand edge of the reader. Most of the time, these are where your fingers or thumbs rest naturally when you're holding it. Unfortunately, I have a subway commute that occasionally forces me into strange, pretzel-like contortions so I can keep reading while everyone's shoving for space. It's times like those I wish there was one more pageturning button up near the top of the device.

For reading manuscripts my company is publishing, it's a nifty tool and it cuts way down on the amount of photocopying and distributing we've done in the past. I used to have shelves full of forthcoming books, some of which I might never get around to reading all the way through. Recycling them always brought a pang of guilt for the waste of paper. Now, I can go ahead and download those same manuscripts onto the eReader, and if I don't finish something, no trees were sacrificed for my fickleness.

But how does it compare to reading a real book?

It doesn't.

As portable as it can be, as "green" as the device is, it is not the same as holding a book in my hand. Reading is as much a tactile experience as it is a mental one. There's something to be said for the feel of pages at your fingertips and the weight of a book in your lap.

If I fill it up, I will eventually have to delete old titles to make room for new ones. If I want to go back to something I've removed, I either have to download it (and pay for it!) again, or at least hook the device up to my computer and transfer the file back over. With bound books, you can simply pluck something off your bookshelf to find a line you want to quote, or a single chapter you want to reread.

Sometimes, it breaks.

No, really. It gets touchy. Several times I've had it hooked up to my computer to charge the battery or to add/remove titles, and after shutting it down and properly removing the hardware, it doesn't want to start up again. It will sit at the loading screen, frozen, the books I want to read completely inaccessible unless I can find a paperclip, a pin, or the back of an earring to push the tiny reset button imbedded in the back of the Reader.

Maybe other people carry paper clips and pins around with them. I don't; I was a crappy Girl Scout. And while my ears are pierced, on a normal day I'm probably not wearing earrings. So, when I get to the train station and the eReader hangs, floundering as it tries and fails to boot itself up, I am essentially left bookless on my hour-long ride home. Paper-and-ink books don't fail you like that. Nor do you have to remember to bring a cord with you to recharge them should they run out of battery power in the middle of your trip.

And, the thing that will always, always make bound books trump any kind of e-reader for me:

You can't share the majority of the books you download to your Sony Reader, or your Kindle, or any other electronic reader with your friends. How many times have you loved a book so much, you press it into someone's hands and say, "You must read this?" There are at least three people reading this blog whom I've done it to, and who have done it to me in return.

The books coming out from most of the larger publishers come with DRM restrictions. You can't port your e-book over to your friend's reader. I suppose you can let your friend borrow your eReader (if you each have $300 to spend on one), but then what are you going to read in the meantime?

DRM is another rant in and of itself, which I'd like to address in the future. However, the author of the book I'll be reviewing this Friday nails it in the intro to his latest (DRM free!) book. I'll be cutting and pasting bits of that as part of the review - what he says before the story even starts is just as important as the story itself. (And the fact that I'm reading it DRM-free might tip some of you intarwebz-savvy people off as to which book it is, or at least which author, but for now, you'll have to remain in suspense.)

But, as it relates to the Sony Reader, unless publishers lift their DRM restrictions and allow customers to pass along the e-Books to friends, it threatens to strike a harsh blow to word-of-mouth recommendations. In these days of $25.00 hardcovers, how likely is it that someone will take a chance on a book that a friend recommended that they haven't even flipped through? Consider instead - if I lend you a book and you love it, you are likely to go buy a copy of that book yourself, to keep. Then, since you are now familiar with that author - since you trust that author - you will also pick up his/her next book on your own when it comes out.

All the flash and sparkle of the eReader dims when you realize that that goes away, all because of DRM.

So, my final verdict - the Sony Reader is a great tool as far as work goes, but for replacing regular books in your leisure time? No thank you. I'll keep the walls of my rooms lined with full bookshelves and suffer the sore shoulder from the books weighing down my carry-on bag, thank you very much.

Review: Gentlemen of the Road

It's Friday, and I promised a review of a book that didn't suck.

A caveat, before we begin: I've never done any kind of serious book reviewing before. This isn't going to read like something in the New York Review of Books or Publishers Weekly. My experience is in handselling, and that's how I'm going to attempt to approach these Friday reviews - like you're a customer who has wandered into my store and said, "What's good?"

Okay?

Okay.

It's fitting, then, that this first book, Michael Chabon's Gentlemen of the Road, came to me as a recommendation from Marty and another friend.

It's possible that I was predisposed to love it - I devoured The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. However, where that book was set in New York during the Golden Age of comics, Gentlemen of the Road brings us all the way back to 950AD.

Pardon my awkwardness with a synopsis - I don't want to give too much away. Amram and Zelikman are the gentlemen of the title, though they are joined by others on the way. They are travelers, brothers at heart, but not blood relations. They are fighting men and occasional swindlers - whatever earns them enough to continue on their adventures. They also - Amram especially, but Zelikman, too - have a habit of doing the right thing. Which is, of course, what sets the tale in motion. There's a boy, you see - not quite a man - and he was a prince, until his father was overthrown. Amram and Zelikman are tasked with bringing him to the safety of family to the south, but the boy, Filaq, slips away with the intention of returning home and seeking vengeance.

There's your first chapter or two.

I am a sucker for the lonely characters, the good-natured not-quite villains who know they are flawed and live with it - or despite it, or because of it. Zelikman (and his appreciation for a good hat) had me hooked from the start. He's prone to bouts of melancholy, and has a sword that is mostly a thin, pointed bit of metal named Lancet. And a loyal horse named Hillel. I can't help it. He's one of those characters I fall in love with, just a little bit. Maybe someday I'll share a few of the others; some of you probably can guess a few of them.

Chabon's narration is nothing short of breathtaking. He takes his time with a scene, occasionally digressing just long enough to enrich the original point. Points of view switch seamlessly, not breaking the overall voice.
The story itself is finely crafted, leading you along on their journey and, yes, once or twice breaking your heart, just a bit.** There are writers who can weave poetry into prose, and Chabon is one of them. The story is a twisting adventure, loyalties changing (though never, truly, Amram's or Zelikman's), battles fought, and every page is a kind of verse.

Gary Gianni's black and white illustrations are gorgeous, too. It should be no surprise that the ones I liked best were the ones featuring Zelikman.

I'm drifting dangerously into talking about things that are spoilers - there are rousing speeches and heroism (big and small), rescues and chases and redemptions, and the whole thing leaves you wanting more. I don't know if Chabon plans on returning to these characters in the future, but if he does, I will be there at the bookstore on the laydown date, and the cover will be opened before I'm even out of the store.


**Get used to this: I gravitate towards books that break my heart.

Tuesday Musing - Customer Service

Don't worry, I didn't forget. It is, still, technically Tuesday.

I promised a chat about the differences in customer service between indies and chains, didn't I?

I'm going to let you in on a little secret first. Ready?

There are good booksellers working in both chains and indies.

I'll wait while you pick yourself up off the floor.

The truth is, you can't always paint something like this with a broad brush. Once upon a time, ten years ago, I could (and often did) say that customer service in a Borders or a B&N sucked. Because, a lot of the time, it did.

But oh, the times, they are a-changin', and we have seen a shift in attitudes. Companies everywhere are realizing that sure, you can have a huge selection, and pride yourself on convenience, but if your employees are jerks to your customers, the customers will go elsewhere.

I don't care how big or small a company is, or what they sell. Thanks to the vastness of the internet, they're not the only game in town anymore. So, how do you hold on to your customer base?

You treat 'em nicely. You remember their names, the things they like to buy, if they have kids or cats or exotic fish. You help without pushing and smile when they walk in the door.

As much as I'd like to say in this regard, "The chains are cold and heartless and don't help their customers," I'd be lying. My husband occasionally goes to Borders before he picks me up from work (I know. I'll smite him later.) He's been trying to get his hands on George RR Martin's early Wild Cards books, which are currently out of print. The employee there suggested he try checking with Pandemonium. When next he visited (more smitings), the employee remembered him, and had another recommendation - Asimov's had collected the titles into hardcover editions at some point; maybe they'd still have some available. He helped him search for a copy of it. They didn't have it in stock, but it was a good lead.

It's the same thing I'd have done, in an indie.

Working in a bookstore of any flavor pretty much requires that you love to read and have some kind of passion for bookselling. There are probably other retail jobs where employees can just phone it in, but it takes a different kind of person to work in a bookstore. If you don't love it, you're not going to last very long.

There are places where indies can outshine the chains for customer service, though. (You didn't think I was going to call it a draw, did you?)

When you have three stories worth of books, it's awfully hard to keep track of your customers. I can wander around the stacks at a B&N and never see someone who's working there unless I go to the register or the customer service kiosk in the middle of the store. Indies are (on average) smaller. At Booksmith, I could look around the store and see who was where, and they could see me.

That smaller feel made it easier to approach customers, too. Sometimes, people simply didn't need help. They wanted to plunk themselves down in front of the history section and browse for a while. I usually said hello as they came into the store, then gave them a couple of minutes to poke around before I asked if there was something I could help them find. Sometimes they declined; sometimes they didn't.

But there was always someone within sight to ask.

I'd like to suggest that the smaller atmosphere makes it easier for indie booksellers to know who their regulars are, but as I'm typing it, I find I'm hesitating. Having only indie bookstore experience, I might well be wrong on this. I would be very curious to hear from someone who has worked in both an indie and a chain bookstore, to see if the larger customer base at a chain made it harder to develop relationships with customers.

One the one hand, I'd say yes - you're seeing more people on a daily basis and therefore can't devote as much time to each customer. But, on the other, most customers only truly need two minutes of your time or less ("Magazines? They're right up here at the front. Let me show you.") The ones who come in and talk about their favorite author with you for twenty minutes aren't lining up all throughout your shift, waiting for their turns to chat.

Hmm. I'd love to hear comments on this one.

My point here is, bookstores of all kinds can offer great customer service. Indies have always had it. The chains have recognized its importance and focused their efforts accordingly. If you receive subpar service anywhere, you have the right to talk to a manager - they want to know, so they can fix the problem. Doesn't matter if it's a tiny bookstore in the middle of nowhere or a B&N in the middle of Manhattan.

Good customer service should be the rule, not the exception.

Lateness (LOL, Murphy's Law)

I had a bit of a computer mess the last few days, so, yes, I missed my very first Friday review. It's coming, I promise. Today is for getting things done around the house, and tomorrow is up in the air.

But it will get done. It's a very, very good book that I'll be talking about - one that most assuredly does not suck.

Edith Wharton House in Danger of Foreclosure

via GalleyCat:

The Mount, the former Lenox, Massachusetts, home of early twentieth-century novelist Edith Wharton, is facing foreclosure unless Edith Wharton Restoration, the nonprofit organization that owns the estate and its gardens, can raise $3 million by Thursday.

The non-profit organization that runs the home, Edith Wharton Restoration, borrowed several million dollars to purchase Wharton's personal collection and have it returned to The Mount. They've spent $13 million in the last 20 years restoring the house and the grounds.

There's a bit of comfort in the article in Preservation Magazine:

If the bank forecloses on the property, the home may be sold to a private owner. However, since the National Trust for Historic Preservation holds easements on the house and adjacent acreage, The Mount, a Save America's Treasures project, is protected.

So, at least if it is foreclosed upon, it won't be turned into a strip mall. But it would be a terrible shame for the foreclosure to happen. Hopefully an arrangement can be made with the bank to extend the deadline - the organization raises the most money with summertime ticket sales.

If you happen to know any wealthy Wharton fans, point them at the articles.

Tuesday Musing the First

From Torteya/ElZ:

I just came accross this article from 2001 about the virtues of Chain bookstores and immediately started wondering what your take on it would be.

I realize its focus is on very different qualities and effects than what I believe yours are when talking about chains but was curious nonetheless.

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200107/allen

It's from 2001 though, not sure if things have changed much since.


Imagine me rolling up my sleeves. Here we go.

First of all, there's this:

The image of the big bad chains gobbling up brave little independents was crystallized in the 1998 Nora Ephron film You've Got Mail, in which the cute encounter involves typically, and preposterously, antithetical types.

I actually enjoyed this movie... right up until the very end. "Hi, you drove me out of business. I love you!"

Just... no.

However, just because I feel like the movie fails on a realistic relationship level, I'd say Ephron nailed it for the plight of the independent booksellers vs. the chains.

I don't have a degree in business, it's a common enough practice that when one business is doing well in an area, another company that sells the same product or offers similar services will move in nearby. It's not limited to bookstores - gas stations, salons, coffee shops - everyone's doing it.

I worked for the only bookstore in the mall. We had a clause in our lease that kept any other bookstores from opening. It didn't stop the chains from scouting out places just outside the mall, although luckily for us, none ever found a spot they liked. The closest thing was a Waldenbooks down the street which had just about the same floor space as Booksmith did and had probably been there about as long.

Still, when a B&N and a Borders opened up four exits down the highway, we felt it. It hurt our business, and unfortunately Booksmith's owner didn't quite have the savvy to fight back. We should have had a better niche carved into the community long before the chains came swaggering along; we didn't. While the chains weren't the ultimate downfall of Booksmith (that's another long, painful story), they certainly put a scare into us, and made those of us who cared about indies start taking a closer look at things we needed to do - not just to survive, but to thrive.

Next point, on the fear that chains will only carry bestsellers and smaller books/presses will get left out:

André Schiffrin, the director of The New Press and formerly the managing director of Pantheon Books, recently based an entire book (The Business of Books) on his contention that the takeover of publishing and retail by big corporations and conglomerates, including the book superstores, has impoverished the culture, leaving "little room for books with new, controversial ideas or challenging literary voices."

(snip)

A look around any of the superstores will show that more risky and experimental fiction, more first novels, and more serious nonfiction are available to general readers all over the country than ever before.

It seems to me that Allen is suggesting this happy bit of risk-taking by the publishers is thanks to the chains. Yet, when you look at the debut novels that have become bestsellers, the buzz about them quite often started with indies. Cold Mountain was a hit in 1997, because independent booksellers fell in love with it. A year after this article was published, The Lovely Bones skyrocketed because of the indies. Not the chains.

So, by all means, applaud big publishing for taking a chance on new authors. But don't hand that credit to the chains. A book put out by an imprint of a large publisher is still a book by that large publisher. Allen cites Hyperion's Theia imprint (which I don't believe exists any longer, by the way) as one of these ground-breaking, risk-taking experiments. Theia titles were right beside the rest of the Hyperion titles in their seasonal catalogs; chain buyers would have seen them at the very same time they were deciding on numbers for Don't Sweat the Small Stuff.

And you know? Theia did have some really good books. But their placement in chains really isn't worth the pattings on the back Allen is handing out.

Meanwhile, show me a Barnes & Noble that's carrying a book by Meisha Merlin (although, they've just announced that they're closing - B&N might have already returned everything they possibly could.) So, all right. Show me a B&N or a Borders with a book from Small Beer Press and I'll be impressed. As a matter of fact, I searched, using their "check in-store availability function." Two stores out of 22 in the Boston area have John Crowley's Endless Things in stock. Small Beer is based in Easthampton, MA. So, tiny representation it the publisher's home state.

I will absolutely allow the argument that the book came out a year ago, and that hardcovers aren't often kept on shelves for more than six months at a stretch, but that rule applies just as equally to indies - later in the article, Allen chides indies for not having certain books in stock - titles that have been out for years and years. (Better examples of small press books' availability in the chains are welcome, by the way.)

I've realized while I've been writing that I have a lot more to say about this article, but I'd very much like to keep to my promise about posting on Tuesdays, so I'm going to break it up into pieces. I may go back and revisit some of Allen's other statements as well. There were a few that I've passed over (regarding the attitudes of people who prefer indies, and the brush she paints us with), and some that need better clarification.

Next time: the difference between customer service and bookseller knowledge in chains vs. indies.

Refocusing

It's been roughly forever since I've posted here.

Okay, less than a month, but still. The original idea behind this blog was to mark my progress towards opening a bookstore. If I'm being completely honest, there really hasn't been all that much. There are classes to be taken and business books to read, but so much hinges on clearing my own personal debt, that it feels like it'll be quite a while before there's real forward motion on opening a bookstore.

That, and right now it's a time of change for the bookselling industry. I'm not quite sure what it's even going to be like opening a store four years from now. MP3s and podcasts are changing the audio market. Products like the Sony Reader and the Kindle are having an impact on good ol' paper and ink books, but just what kind of impact is still uncertain.

I truly believe that the indies can survive this. They simply (ha!) have to figure out how to change with the times. Some of them are only now learning how beneficial it can be to have a store website, and a staff member or three who know what a blog is (and how to write a compelling one.)

It is still about the community. Success will always be based on that - how well do you know your customers? How involved with them are you?

Only, in this digital age (is that what are the kids calling it now?) a store's community is vastly larger than the town in which it's located. Bookstores in Seattle have readers in New York following their recommendations. A mystery store in the most rural town in the midwest can get books out not only to a big city in the U.S., but to just about any country in the world.

So, my saying, "I want to open a bookstore; I think I know how" is no longer true. There are changes coming. This is not entirely a bad thing, but unfortunately, some stores will refuse to move with it, and will fall by the wayside. Others will embrace it, improve upon it, and thrive. I'm going to be watching and waiting these next few years, and see how the successful ones do it.

In the meantime, this blog isn't going away. However, rather than me blathering on about the good ol' days and how we used to sell books uphill in the snow, barefoot both ways, I'll be talking about other things - books I'm reading (after all, I did name this place "Books That Don't Suck," didn't I?), what I'm seeing work for other indies, things like that.

I'd like to get a posting schedule going, most likely twice a week.

Let's go with... Tuesdays and Fridays for now. Tuesdays'll be for ramblings - industry news, whatever's drifting through my brain when I log in to write - and Fridays will be for book reviews.

SO. If you have questions you'd like me to attempt to field, go ahead and ask away. I have one buried in the comments from a couple months back that I never got around to answering (sorry, ElZ!). That'll be my first foray into this. For Fridays, if you have books to recommend, show me what you've got and I'll add it to the Pile O'Stuff. Discussion is always welcome.