Bookbuyer's
Bookend
For Britain's oldest surviving book imprint — the noble house of Longman — 1974 is a very special year. In June the company will be 250 years old and will no doubt be toasting its own longevity with the usual series of self-congra tulatory bunfights (and why not indeed?). It comes as some surprise, therefore, to learn that they have now decided to drop the name of their children's imprint Longman Young Books in favour of something called Kestrel,' due to be launched in April — another tactfully timed change by the men who announced the closure of their general books list two weeks after the death of Mark Longman, the last in a distinguished line of family publishing chiefs.
There will be a second splendid anniversary this year — that of an august body of folk called the Book Publishers Representatives Association, first founded in 1924. These are the gentlemen of the road who hump samples, stand in queues, pick up parking tickets and in general get on better with their customers than with their employers who, unlike booksellers, rarely listen to what reps have to say. Before Christmas the rep provides, from the back of his battered car, a better distribution service than any publisher's warehouse — which, come to think of it, makes one wonder why he doesn't carry supplies of his more successful sellers the whole year round. And after Christmas he makes himself as scarce as possible in case the bookseller wants to return unsold stocks.
Highlight of the BPRA year is the association's guest night, an amazing occasion at the Cannaught Rooms where, to the strains (sic) of a Palm Court ensemble, hundreds of invited booksellers (and some uninvited ones) indulge themselves heartily at the publishers' expense.
In return they are required to pause, at distressingly regular intervals, to observe inter
minable takings of wine — hosts with guests, guests with hosts, president with ex-presidents and subsequently with just about everyone else in the room. Yet despite that, despite the deafening clash of crockery as eight hundred half empty soup plates are snatched away, the excruciatingly boring speeches at which BPRA presidents excel, the awful acoustics of the adjoining bar, and the utter absence of taxis to bear the overtired revellers home, the BPRA guest night is one of the highlights in the trade calendar — one of the few occasions of the year when a publisher meets his own reps, and sometimes the only occasion when the publisher meets a bookseller. It is events such as these which keep the British book trade on its feet (if that is not a self-contradiction) and Bookbuyer would like to be the first to toast the association and its hardworking unpaid officers. Long may its membership continue to sell second-rate books with such first-rate panache. Which reminds Bookbuyer that despite general agreement that publishers continue to overproduce, the total of new titles and new editions showed another startling increase last year — from 33,140 to 35,254. Thank heaven for the power crisis. Not only could it mean that people will rediscover the pleasures of reading, but it should actually lead to drastic reductions in publishers' monthly output. A silver lining inside every cloud.
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