Book Expo (BEA) Notes

Last week's events included the American publishing world's most significant trade show, known as Book Expo America (BEA). The exhibition, held in New York's unlovely Javits Center, featured a hustling amalgam of salespeople, agents, authors, and anyone else who wanted to make a buck buying or selling "content." My interest in this publishing pow-wow was to discover buyers for my firm's overstock products. Remainder day was a trade-only event, which made my visit focused and surprisingly pleasant.

There's little romance in the remainder and overstock business. One of publishing's secrets is the role of a book's print run. For some publishers, it's financially wiser to print more books than they are likely to sell either in the retail market or via wholesalers. In effect, the excess quantity is planned to occur, as the books will reach the remainder market and generate some revenue for the publisher.

The remainder vendors know who they are and what they're buying. The ones I met were surprisingly open and chatty, though sharp-eyed and skilled at quickly sizing up their counterparts. They also happen to know what customers want to buy. Their insights may very well correspond with their Big Five publishing brethren and sisters, whose book choices vary between astute and dim. The remainder buyers are notably immune to hype; for them, it's all about moving units. I found that approach a refreshing one.

In contrast, BEA's entranceway was filled with extravagantly-sized banners exuberantly praising the latest works of popular authors such as Jodi Picoult. A number of these lionized authors were television or movie celebrities, an ironic comment on the book biz that no one noted, or at least articulated. The most painfully fawning of these banners was one dedicated to Lena Dunham, the New York/Hollywood axis' new bright young thing. My only comfort from this rather bleak display was the knowledge that one of last year's BEA shining authors was Mitt Romney's wife.

I also attended a couple of sessions on social media and "publishing." One presentation, by Goodreads founder Otis Chandler, ran out of chairs after 450 people were seated. (Chandler, who sold Goodreads to Amazon, was not singled out as an ambassador of evil, as an Amazon rep might have been.) A later panel discussion on social media and e-books caught the eye of around 250 curiosity seekers. Clearly, the data-driven world has increasingly encroached upon publishing. No one, however, thought to consider how independent authorial voices would survive the religious belief in data's allegedly revealed truth. How would a Henry Miller, Anais Nin, William S. Burroughs, or Chester Himes (just to name a few writers) ever have emerged from a wilderness of "likes" and "trending now"?