We may as well name them.
NASH: Nicole Aragi, presumably.
GARGAGLIANO: Tina Bennett. Lynn Nesbit. Jennifer Rudolph Walsh. Suzanne
Gluck.
CHINSKI: Eric Simonoff. I mean, I know from friends at other houses that
when a manuscript comes in from certain agents, they start circulating it
before they even read it because they presume it's going to go really quickly
and for a lot of money. And that's not true with other agents. It just changes
the game entirely. I think an author has to understand what they want. They
have to do some soul searching, for lack of a better phrase, and figure out if
it's just the money they need or if they need something else. And it's hard to
hold that against someone. I know that editors always bitch about having to pay
too much, and obviously it can have big consequences in a house—if a book
doesn't earn out and so on—but you can't really hold that against the author.
We never know exactly what their circumstances are. Maybe they have five
children who they need to send to college. But they need to figure out what
their priorities are. I do think we've often stumbled up against this thing
where, in the same way that people think advertising equals love, they think
that the advance equals love. And that's just not always true. But people
assume that the more you pay, the more you love a book—that if you offer fifty
thousand dollars more than another house, then you love it more and will be
more devoted to it—and that's not necessarily the case. I think a good agent
will explain to the author what all the different variables are, and
specifically within the context of what the author needs, whether it's
financial or their career more generally, and that is the ideal way to make the
decision.
How do you guys feel about auctions?
CHINSKI: We try to avoid them if we can.
BOUDREAUX: I don't mind an auction as much as I hate a best-bids
[auction]. And I don't mind a best-bids as much as I hate a best-bids and then
the top three get to do it again. What the hell? Everybody does that now. It's insane to me. And the other thing is,
does everybody have to talk to the author now, or meet the author, before you
get to make an offer? What happened to the arranged marriage? "Eric likes me,
Eric likes you, how 'bout we do a book together." I mean—
CHINSKI: Have you gotten the one where you don't get to talk to the
author unless you promise to make an offer in advance?
GARGAGLIANO: Oh, that's horrible.
BOUDREAUX: That happened recently. You weren't allowed to talk to the
author unless you'd ponied up however many six figures.
CHINSKI: There's an admission price to even talk to the author. That
drives me crazy. At FSG, we try to avoid auctions. We decide what we think a
book is worth, make the offer, and the author either decides to come or not
come, and we bow out if it doesn't happen.
NASH: I mean, any economist will tell you that the winner of an auction
has overpaid. In a lot of worlds, outside the publishing one, certain auctions
get structured so that the second highest bidder wins. Because the presumption
is that the overbidder has overpaid in such a way that it could imperil the business.
BOUDREAUX: I love that! Second
place wins—let's hear it for all the B-students!
CHINSKI: All you A-students are crazy.
I hear what you're saying, Richard, but what about with books like Everything
Is Illuminated or Edgar
Sawtelle? You're not the loser if
you won those auctions.
NASH: But I mean in aggregate. Any of these things are statistical, so
there are always outliers.
CHINSKI: Actually, I came in second on Everything Is Illuminated.
BOUDREAUX: Were you the underbidder?
CHINSKI: I was, actually.
Apparently I was wrong.
GARGAGLIANO: To be fair, there is a benefit to an auction, which is that,
at least in my position, the whole house has to pay attention to the book. You
end up getting more people reading it and talking about it, and that creates a
certain excitement that isn't to be negated entirely. As long as you don't
overpay too much, within that excitement, I think it can benefit the book.
CHINSKI: But what about the problem—this is rare, but we've all seen it
happen—where the money becomes the story behind the book. That gives me a
queasy feeling. Even if it doesn't happen in a negative way, which we've
obviously seen happen. But if that's the driving momentum that gets a book
attention? I guess, on one level, great. We'll take what we can get. But on
another level it just makes me queasy.
GARGAGLIANO: There's a huge difference between an auction that ends at
two hundred thousand and an auction that ends at a million. There's a huge
spectrum there. But if you're in an auction with five different houses, your
publishers are going to pay attention. Because everybody else is paying
attention.
Do you guys think you feel the money you're spending in the same way
that maybe Richard does?
BOUDREAUX: I don't know if you sweat the difference between 150
[$150,000] and 175 [$175,000]. But you definitely...One [$100,000] and five
[$500,000] are different. And five [$500,000] and three million are different.
I'll tell you what's easier: three million. Because then everybody did have to get on board. You are not out there on your
own saying, "I believe!" But those middle, lot-of-money numbers when maybe
nobody else read the whole thing and somebody is letting you do it? You do feel
responsible for that in a "Boy do I need to make sure I don't make a single
misstep the whole time. The manuscript has to be ready early. I've got to have
blurbs early. We've got to get the cover right. I've got to write those
hand-written notes to people." You feel the need to justify it. But at the same
time, you don't have to lose sleep every night because you won the auction by
going up ten or fifteen thousand dollars. I think auctions can be not horrible
when you agree on the number beforehand. What I hate is feeling like the ego
contest has begun and somebody thinks so-and-so across town has it and you're
trying to guess who it is—or somebody inside the house, when there's a house bid situation. The
bullshit competition drives me up the wall. Being in an auction and saying we
think it's worth three hundred or we think it's worth eight hundred—I don't
sweat that if we're making a decision beforehand. It's when you get into the middle
of it and suddenly the book that you thought was a great two hundred thousand
dollar book...You're paying four [$400,000]? Just because there are still four
people in it? I mean, when an agent calls and says they have interest, that's
fine and dandy. But it's not going to change my mind about whether I liked the
book or not, and I don't want the publisher deciding because three other houses
are in and "We should get in on that, too." So if you can make these decisions
before the craziness starts, it's fine. It's when the craziness begins—
CHINSKI: The feeding frenzy.
But it seems like that's how it works now. You're getting that email
from the agent right away.
GARGAGLIANO: Noooo.
CHINSKI: But don't you feel like you get that more and more?
GARGAGLIANO: I don't feel like it changes my mind, though.
CHINSKI: No, I just mean more as a strategy to get people to pay
attention.
BOUDREAUX: I feel like, when you get a submission, you know that it's so
easy to send that everybody on earth has it already. And it's twenty a day and
there they are on your Sony Reader and the attention paid to things has
diminished just by the ease with which everything gets slotted in and slotted
out. And then the agent's like, "I've got interest! I've got interest!" Well,
"I've got a ‘No!'" I can email fast, too! [Laughter.] Unfortunately, that's how it ends up working
sometimes. "You've got to get back to me quickly!" "Okay, well I guess I won't
be deliberating over this very
long. I've read ten pages and we can be done, then." If everybody just wants to
speed it up that much.
CHINSKI: But I've heard so many agents say that it's becoming more and
more difficult to sell a literary first novel that it almost seems like this is
compensation for that. There's so much resistance now—everybody's trying to
find a reason why they shouldn't buy something because it is so difficult. It
seems like we get more emails now that say "There's a lot of interest" just to
kind of built up that intensity from their side.
NASH: What I get to do in those situations is say, "Congratulations. I'm
thrilled for the author. Next time." I just can't play at that level. That
makes my life a lot easier. It's a much less complicated thing than what you
guys have to go through in terms of evaluating the difference between two
hundred [$200,000] and four hundred [$400,000]. That's one thing I don't ever
have to worry about. But I really learned a lot from what you were saying about
how when the money gets really big, you aren't accountable anymore. Not that
you aren't accountable—but there's a lot of shared responsibility and the buck
isn't stopping entirely with you. Whereas there's an in-between spot where it's
large enough that you're exposed but not so large that anybody else is going to
be wearing the flak jacket with you.
BOUDREAUX: The first book I ever preempted, I hadn't finished reading it.
It had come in to another editor who gave it to me. So I was starting it late
and I hadn't finished it and I went in to tell the publisher, "We've heard that
somebody else is going to preempt." The publisher said, "Okay, go offer"
several hundred thousand dollars. "Okay!" So I did, and we got it—what do you
know?—and the next day the publisher asked, "So what happens at the end?" I
still hadn't finished it! I was like, "They all...leave...and go home." I didn't
know what happened! [Laughter.] That was
kind of scary, and I did feel like "This one is all on me"—because not only
had nobody else read the thing, but I wasn't even certain it would hold up. As
I was editing it I was like, "I hope that's what happens at the end...."
Otherwise the author's going to be like, "Really? Why would you suggest that at the end?" I'd have to be like, "I just think it's
important that everything works out that way."
When you look at the industry, what are the biggest problems we face
right now?
CHINSKI: I think they're all so obvious. Returns. Blogs.
GARGAGLIANO: And just finding readers.
CHINSKI: The end of cultural authority. That's something we talk about a
lot at FSG. Reviews don't have the same impact that they used to. The one thing
that really horrifies me and that seems to have happened within the last few
years is that you can get a first novel on the cover of the New York Times
Book Review, a long review in The
New Yorker, a big profile somewhere, and it
still doesn't translate into sales. Whereas six years ago, or some mythical
time not that long ago, that was the battle—to get all that attention—and if
you got it, you didn't necessarily have a best-seller, but you knew that you
would cross a certain threshold. Whereas now you can get all of that and still
not see the sales. I think that phenomenon is about the loss of cultural
authority. There's just so much information out there now that people don't
know who to listen to, except their friends, to figure out what to read. And
that's the question we wrestle with the most. I think publishers have to
communicate more directly with readers—that's the big barrier we're all trying
to figure out. How much to use our websites to sell directly and talk to our
readers directly?
So what are you doing to try to do that? What are you experimenting
with?
CHINSKI: I can think of one thing. I mean, it's a small thing, but we
recently started the FSG Reading Series uptown at the Russian Samovar. It's
amazing. It's actually turned into a kind of scene. The New York Observer and the New Yorker have written about it. And I mean "scene" in a good
way. In all the ways that we were talking about before, what makes us most
happy is when a book forges a community around itself. It's a small thing, but
now if we can somehow bring that online, or expand it in some way, it will be a
way for FSG as a name to mean something, which will mean that we have another
way to bring our writers to readers. The names of publishers, notoriously, are
not like "Sony" or other companies where the name means a whole lot to readers.
It may mean something to reviewers or booksellers, but I think we all need to
figure out ways to make our names mean something. That's another way to
establish authority so that people become interested in the individual books.
That's a big challenge, and there's no easy solution to it.
What else are you guys trying to do, beyond the hand-written notes and
the bigmouth mailings? What are you lying awake at night thinking about doing
for this novel you're publishing that doesn't seem to be going anywhere?
BOUDREAUX: I pray that the people in our new media department who are
supposed to be figuring out this problem are staying up late at night. That's
what I think about as I roll around at night. And they are always coming up
with things that I hope will work.
CHINSKI: And now we have this amplification system, supposedly—the
Internet—which is supposed to amplify our ability to create word-of-mouth. But
I don't think anybody's quite figured out exactly how to do that—or at least
how to make it translate directly into sales. We all can see, in certain cases,
our books being talked about a lot online. But what does that mean in terms of
sales?
NASH: In our case, we've never really relied much on cultural authority,
although we've certainly used it here and there. But for the most part, to the
extent that we've been successful, it's been through the things that you're
asking about. I check our Web metrics several times a week, whether it's
Quantcast, Alexa, or Compete. These are places for measuring traffic. I try to
figure out what the traffic is and what the demographics are. So I'm doing a
lot of stuff that would probably make you want to shoot yourself.
BOUDREAUX: I'm glad you're doing
it, though, so I can read about it in this article. Then I can call somebody
and say, "You should do that! That's brilliant!"
NASH: One of your new media people, Amy Baker, was briefly involved with
Soft Skull back in the day. She played on our street hockey team that was known
as the Soft Skull Sandernistas, which was named after my predecessor. [Laughter.] But seriously, as Eric says, the Internet is
amplified word-of-mouth. The things that are happening online are amplifying a
process that's already in place. I mean, the genius of Oprah has never been her
ratings. Her ratings aren't that spectacular compared to a lot of other shows.
It's that Oprah connects to her audience in an intimate way, as if she were one
of eight women who have lunch together every Tuesday. And that intensity of
relationship—plus the fact that it is able to occur on a reasonably broad
scale—is her genius. So what you do is go looking around the world for people
with a certain level of trust. Authority, in a certain sense, has been
partially replaced by trust. Part of what you can call "trust" today is the
remnants of authority. People "trust" the New York Times.
CHINSKI: And people trust their friends.
NASH: Exactly. People trust Liesl Schillinger. People trust Ed Champion.
Or they hate them. And you're just trying to get your stuff to people who are
trusted. In my case that involves doing it myself, in a lot of cases.
GARGAGLIANO: This is one of the things that I get most frustrated by,
partly because I didn't care about book reviews when I wasn't in publishing. I
would never read the New York Times Book Review. I just wanted to walk into a bookstore and find something. But people
don't do that anymore. People aren't interested in the community of books. So
it's finding the niche markets. I just published a book called The
Wettest County in the World. It's a novel
about the author's grandfather and granduncles, who ran a bootlegging ring
during Prohibition. It's amazing. And we've gotten IndieBound, we've gotten
lots of things for it, and it's gotten amazing reviews. But the sales aren't
going to happen on that alone. So I've been mailing it to bloggers who have
beer blogs and whiskey blogs, and bourbon drinkers, and distilleries. I'm
trying to find the niche market. I think that's the way things are going. I
think that kind of thinking is much more exciting—you're more likely to find
the readers who are interested—but publishers aren't set up to find niche
markets for every single book.
BOUDREAUX: That's the thing. Do you do the whiskey mailing and then the
beer mailing and this mailing and that mailing? It seems like there aren't
enough hours in the day and there isn't enough staff—the Amy Bakers of the
world—to do that.
NASH: That's where the writer needs to come into it. And interns. That's
one of the ways in which interns can be so valuable. That's great work for them
to do—a Technorati blog search on whatever. It's not hugely difficult, and
it's kind of interesting.
GARGAGLIANO: It can also be useful for books down the line.
CHINSKI: That raises an interesting thing for writers to consider. I
mean, how many times have we all heard that a certain book is going to appeal
to this audience, that audience, and everybody else in the world? You just
know that it's not true. But if you can go really deep into one community, you
might sell ten thousand copies of a first novel, which most first novels never
sell—at least the ones that are supposedly going to appeal to everyone. I
don't think novelists should spend too much time worrying about who their
audience is, but it's something to consider. I just think that line—"This book
is going to appeal to everybody because it's about love or family or
whatever"—doesn't work. I think the author and the publisher need to think
more specifically. If you could sell one book to everybody on two city blocks
in New York, you'd probably be selling more copies of that book than we do of
the ones we just send out into the world and hope are going to sell magically.
But how do you reach everybody on those two city blocks in New York and get
them to buy the book? That's the task, metaphorically, that so many of us are
facing: how to get to them and make them believe us. Because at the end of the
day we're companies, and all of those people online who are talking to each
other aren't necessarily going to believe that we have their best interests at
heart. They'll think we're advertising to them through other means. So we have
to establish a certain amount of trust with readers, not just as companies but
as people who also love books in the same way they do. Again, it's a small
thing, but the idea behind the Samovar reading series—not that it's a totally
new idea—is that the editors at FSG love books, and you guys love books, so
let's get together. And it's not just about trying to sell our books to you.
NASH: One of the things that that accomplishes that may not be obvious
from the get-go is transparency. You're putting yourself out in the world and
exposing yourself in a way—making yourself vulnerable. I have never understood
why the staffs of publishing houses are invisible to readers, who are
ultimately the people who pay our salaries. I mean, my wife is a corporate
lawyer, and her photo and bio are on her firm's website. Book publishers just
refuse to allow their staff visibility to the world. If Paul, Weiss, Rifkind,
Wharton and Whatever are willing to allow all the partners' and associates'
photographs and bios to be seen by the world, what about publishing is so
important that we can't be allowed to be seen? I know that part of it is that
we don't want authors bugging us too much. But I think that's part of what the
Samovar reading series accomplishes: a certain willingness to participate.
Just
in the space of your careers so far, what has
been the most destructive new thing that's come about in the industry?
NASH: It's
technology. It's been both constructive and destructive at the same
time.
CHINSKI: So do you think e-books have
been both?
NASH: E-books are one of the last ways in which technology is
playing itself out. One of the first ways was desktop publishing. Another way
that's been more incremental is the ability of digital printing to be
commensurate with offset printing and for various machines to flatten the economies
of scale. But, yeah, the ability to satisfactorily download a book digitally is
turning out to be one of the last things that technology is accomplishing. I
guess the other thing is just the capacity of e-mail and the Web—the social
Web, in particular—to flatten communication. And it's all simultaneously
destructive and constructive. It's destroying cultural authority but it's
enhancing one's ability to cost-effectively reach individuals who might have
other kinds of cultural authority. It's lowering barriers to entry, which is
constructive because new presses can come along. BookScan is based on
technology and has constructive and destructive components. The kind of
supply-chain inventory management that Baker & Taylor and Ingram are doing,
where they can now say to us, "We only need two months' worth of inventory; we
don't need four months of inventory," is destructive because my working capital
needs go up by 20 percent on that one phenomenon alone, but it's good in that I
can actually see Ingram's demand building and respond to it. If I see big Ingram
demand in the month before I publish something, I can say to myself, "I'm going
to print advance orders plus two thousand as opposed to advance orders plus
five hundred." So it's fucking me and helping me at the same time.
CHINSKI: I agree with Richard.
Obviously a lot of things are changing right now, and some of them make things
a lot more difficult, but they also—and I don't mean to sound like a Pollyanna—offer
some opportunities. I'm always really wary of the sky-is-falling thing, this
idea that we're at the end right now.
GARGAGLIANO: We're just
at a place where we have to reinvent ourselves, and we haven't figured out how
to do that yet. People have started reading in this other way that I don't
understand because I don't read that way. But it's our job to figure out how
they're reading, and then to figure out how to deliver something they want to
read.
CHINSKI: Are you reading on a Sony
Reader?
GARGAGLIANO: Yes, and I love it.
It's the best thing ever.
CHINSKI: I'm still adjusting to it. We
just got them in the last few weeks. On one hand it's great. On the other hand,
I still want to write in the margins and it's hard to go back and forth and figure
out where you are in a manuscript. I actually physically find myself reaching
to turn the page.
GARGAGLIANO: I do that all the time. It's
really disturbing!
CHINSKI: Your brain gets tricked into
thinking you're actually reading a page. But on the other hand, as I was
saying, it's great, and we're seeing sales of books.... I mean, I saw something recently
about the Kindle. People who have a Kindle are actually buying more books. So
on one hand, it scares the shit out of me that people are reading on Kindles
and Sony Readers. But on the other hand—
GARGAGLIANO: Why?
CHINSKI: For no reason other than that
it's different.
GARGAGLIANO: I
think it's so exciting.
CHINSKI: That's what I mean. It's also
really exciting. It will bring a lot more people into reading. And this younger
generation is so used to reading online that it doesn't really matter. It
doesn't mean the death of literature.
BOUDREAUX: I was amazed at how quickly we all got used to the Sony
Reader. It's still a little different from an actual book. But when I first got
into publishing I remember reading a manuscript, instead of a finished book,
and feeling like it seemed to lack a certain presentational authority. It took
me a minute to take a manuscript seriously. It will be the same way with the
Sony Reader. But, my God, we've all adapted in a period of months? Imagine the
twenty-year-olds who are reading everything online all the time and switching
back and forth among seven screens that are open all the time. The notion of not reading that way must seem odd to them.
GARGAGLIANO: I think that in several years
the book object is going to be more beautiful and more precious.
BOUDREAUX: It's going to be like vinyl
records.
GARGAGLIANO: Exactly.






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