Bookend
Bookbuyer doesn't like the Frankfurt Book Fair. And he isn't very fond of Frankfurt either. And the German economic miracle palls a bit. They all seem able to afford the prices. Perhaps that's what galls. But duty called, and Bookbuyer went. Four thousand publishers from 62 countries went too and spread themselves gaudily through vast concrete halls. The largest is over a quarter of a mile wide. Potsdam revisited.
The most numerous foreigners were the British who, said other European publishers, did not seem to be taking their crisis seriously. If Frankfurt taught Bookbuyer anything it was that the British are a cheerful lot. One Swiss he talked to found it offensive: "After all we have done propping up the pound."
After Paul Hamlyn sold Paul Hamlyn Ltd to IPC many said the Soul had gone out of him. He seems to have got it back again with his new company Octopus. The bright red stands of Paul Hamlyn Ltd dominate the entrance to one aisle of the fair. A number, in fact a surprising number, of the staff are sleekly fat. Further up the same aisle this year was Octopus, rich in imperial purple. The staff here had a leen and hungry look, like Mr Hamlyn who, Italian suited and clad overall in_a chocolate brown RollsRoyce, was rumoured to have done over £1,000,080 of business. Bookbuyer believes the rumour. Octopus had never sold a foreign right before. The soil was virgin, and Mr Hamlyn reaps well.
There are few more popular Frankfurt regulars than Tony Pocock, the large and extrovert sales ace whose name has for so long been associated with Britain's second largest publisher, the Oxford University Press. As usual, he stood commandlingly in front of his stand, intercepting passing booksellers with open arms and an order book. Bonhomie abounded, Pocock persuaded, and the orders rolled in. It was only as the poorer-by-far booksellers left the stand that the truth dawned on them. Mr Pocock is now sales director of Faber and Faber.
No one talked about novels. Frankfurt was never keen on literature. The success of the show was Rules of the Game (Paddington Press, £6.95) due to do over £2,000,000 of business before the end of 1975 in a dozen countries. The Russians gave a press conference for the International Library. They are joining Collins and publishers in five other countries in the co-production of illustrated information books for teenagers.
The Deputy Minister for Culture said how glad everyone was. All the other publishers said so too. No one mentioned Russia's recent decision to acknowledge international copyright laws, or Solzenitzyn who is also published by Collins, No vodka either, Just German "champagne" — Private Cuvee Frankfurther Buchmesse — and Florida Boy orange juice. In other circles it would have been called ecumenical. They did seem genuinely pleased to be joining in.
A visit to every single publisher's stand meant a walk of eight miles. There were booksellers from every literate country placing orders, but overwhelmingly the fair is for publishers. For five whole days, and much of the night (Intercontinental Hotel 615 a night for a single room, breakfast extra; one London publisher put up at the Seaman's Mission), they buy and sell rights. Four thousand of them taking in each other's washing. Bookbuyer wag glad he went to watch it, but so very glad to be home again.
Tip: A British binder visiting his German counterpart asked what price he got for his .off-cuts and wasted sheets. No selling was done he was told, there was a pig farm behind the bindery and the paper helped to feed the pigs. "What about the ink?" the Englishman asked incredulously. The pigs didn't mind the ink. Streaky bacon?
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