BOOK SUPPLEMENT
A CRITICAL MOMENT
By GEOFFREY FABER THE history of the English book trade is a history of crisis and change rather than of fair weather. At least so it seems in retro- spect ; and no part of it more so than the thirty-six years which have passed (all but a few weeks) since I began my first day's work in a publisher's office. Exactly the same could be said, with equal truth, of our national history. If, as I am not alone in thinking, the book trade is now entering upont-has indeed already entered—a crisis more dangerous than any it has hitherto known, it would not be surprising to fmd that the shape of this crisis follows the shape of a national crisis.
At first sight the parallel may be thought untrue. The two periods of unique prosperity which the book trade has enjoyed during the last thirty-six years have coincided with two world wars. In truth these coincidences confirm the parallel. Whatever else may be said about modern totalitarian war, it enormously increases individual awareness of everything threatened by war. The two war periods have been alike in their effect upon the book trade, except that the effect was much more intense during the second of the two wars. But the situation following the second war is very different from that which followed the first. Here, again,' the book trade is only exhibiting, in its own way, the general character of the time. Few of those who have any profesSional knowledge of books would pretend to any comfortable optimism about the future. Not the least of the anxieties which weigh upon the minds of publishers is anxiety lest the planning pressure, already exerted in various more or less indirect ways to encourage certain categories of books at the expense of others, may be extended and increased. The same sort of thing is happening to industry in general. But ever since controls and restrictions began in 1939 the departments of State have never properly understood either the complex quasi- organic structure of the book trade or its function in a free society, whether that society is organised for war or for peace. Excep- tional persons, in key positions, have sometimes shown signs of understanding ; but they are not, and never have been, free to apply their understanding properly. Their actions have been determined again and again, not by objective truth, but by some Minister's invincible prejudices or by fear of ignorant Parliamentary criticism or by some ingenious notion born in one of those bright, inventive, confident but unpractical minds which the .universities are so good at turning out. This—at least so far as books are concerned—is what, in practice, " planning " means. • The sooner books are set free from this kind of planning the better ; but there are ominous indications that freedom may be receding rather than coming nearer. The topic is both delicate and difficult to discuss in a short space. All I can do is to indicate the directions in which pressure is exerted—to the benefit of educa- tional, technical and scientific books, and of books designed for export, and to the detriment of imaginative and creative work. The pressure is exerted for or against categories of books, not by any criterion of merit. It is true that the word " tripe " has been frequently used, especially in Parliament. It is, however, applied only to novels and modern ',Deny. Those who are fond of the word seem to be unaware of the fact that it could be quite as justly used of many educational, technical and scientific books. As for the " export " criterion, a literature manufactured on purpose to be exported is not likely to remain worth the oversea importer's money.
Worse, even, than unintelligent control by departmental or inter- departmental committees, evolving Procrustean formulas, is the revolution which has occurred in the economics of book production. The public is far more book-conscious than it was in 1939 ; it is spending about three times as much on books, and the figures are still climbing. On the face of the statistics book publishing is still riding a boom which has not quite reached its crest. But, within the last year or so, publishers have become aware that the bottom has dropped out of publishing economics ; perhaps a better metaphor would be that costs have blown its head off. The trouble is not, simply, that costs have risen so fast and so far (at least too per cent. since 5939) that prices haven't kept pace. That is, unfor- tunately, true ; and it is also, unfortunately, true that the public resistance to higher book prices is extremely stubborn. Neverthe- less, there is no escape from the necessity of higher prices. During the war and for a year or so afterwards book prices were, on the whole, very little advanced upon pre-war prices. This was because, for the time being, the element of risk had practically disappeared. But now the risk has returned, and costs have gone up again ; so that publishers are faced with a very nasty problem indeed.
That, however, is the least part of the trouble, bid as it is. The really alarming fact is that—for technical reasons which I have no room to expound—the cost per copy of a large edition stands, now, very much closer to the cost per copy of a small edition ; in the same way and for the same reasons the cost per copy of a reprint stands very much closer to the cost per copy of the first edition— indeed it can now be more than the original cost, if the first edition dates back some years. Now in publishing economics the safety- valve has, hitherto, always been provided by the margin of profit earned by the more successful books, and particularly by reprints. In effect this safety-svalve has now gone, and the Consequence can only be to drive up prices still higher. Such, briefly suggested, are the two main anxieties now occupying the minds of publishers ; the first, perhaps, may not weigh much upon educational and technical publishers, but the second probably affects them even more than it affects the more general type of publisher. Both are matters of serious interest to the public at large.
Not less serious, though more disputable, is a third anxiety, which is shared by many persons besides publishers, though it is pooh- poohed by others, some publishers included. This is a wide-spread concern over an alleged decline in the quality, and vitality of con- temporary, " creative," English writing. I confess that I don't myself quite know whether-I agree or disagree with this allegation. But I was seriously shaken by something that happened to me only three week ago. During a 'routine conference for the purpose of going over my own firm's forthcoming publications, I found myself wonder- ing aloud where " literature " had got to. Almost every book seemed to deal with some more or less specialised subject. That evening I attended a meeting of a society whose members include editors, critics, librarians, authors and literary agents, as well as booksellers and publishers. We were addressed by the editor of a famous periodical ; and the burden of his utterances was precisely the doubt I had expressed in the afternoon. There were one of two dissentients in the discussion that followed ; but the general opinion was over- whelmingly with the speaker whose address opened the debate.
May I conclude by briefly repeating my own contribution to that debate ? I suggested that it was easy to overstate the case for the prosecution—which the speaker had rested largely upon the assertion that the writers of our day commonly lack any positive creed or starting point. We have some "creative " living writers to
whom that assertion doesn't apply ; and among them two or three, at least, of very high merit. But literature=" creative " literature—
springs from the common soil in which the individual grows ; and it is the fertility of the soil which is in question. Signs of exhaustion are only to be expected. As a nation, or an island group of nations, we have suddenly exchanged riches for poverty, and power for insecurity. This change in our status and prospects has come as the reward of our " finest hour." Until we have realistically and courageously adjusted ourselves to it, we are not likely to produce very much worth-while literature. The process of adjustment is going to be slow and painful. But I believe that it will, in the end, be honestly made, and that the history of English literature is still a very long way from completion. -
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