Maybe you’ve noticed that there seem to be a lot of
Barnes & Noble superstores closing lately? Not just stores in remote locations (like, say,
this one in rural upstate New York), but in some of the nation’s largest metropolitan shopping areas, such as
Los Angeles,
San Francisco,
Philadelphia,
Washington, DC,
Seattle,
Chicago,
two stores in Dallas,
another in Austin, and
Manhattan. And that’s just in the last 30 days or so.
What had been a slow shrinkage as leases ran out — a store
here, a store
there
— turned into an avalanche after Thanksgiving. Stores that should have
been well-stocked for the holidays were instead out of inventory and
passing time until the end of the year.
For a couple of years I’ve been predicting in
column after
column
that B&N was going to get out of the brick-and-mortar business of
selling books, but seeing it finally kick into high gear was no fun. If
you include the company’s college stores, this is going to mean 1362
bookstores disappearing from the American landscape — less than two
years after 686
Borders stores disappeared.
The
big chains deserve opprobrium for their vicious tactics against
America’s independent booksellers, certainly. Back in the last century, I
wrote a
column attacking B&N for putting indie booksellers in
Melville House’s birthplace,
Hoboken, New Jersey, out of business with under-pricing, as if selling
books was like selling widgets. Can you guess
the rest of that story?
Having poisoned the well, the Hoboken B&N itself went out of
business, leaving the town — a big Manhattan bedroom with lots of
well-educated, well-off residents — without a bookshop, probably
forever.
And yet, and yet … that development gave me no pleasure,
nor does the fact that this scenario is playing out across the country
with increasing frequency. And my brother and sister indie fanatics
shouldn’t get too righteous about it either. Two thousand fewer places
for people to be exposed to books is pretty obviously not good for our
culture.
Perhaps surprisingly, it’s not good for business, either.
Two thousand bookstores vanishing would represent roughly half the
total bookstores in the country. Even though many indie bookstores are
thriving right now, thanks in large part to the disappearance of some
cutthroat competition, how much longer can they thrive if books are
simply becoming so vastly invisible?
It gets less subtle than
that. Surveys say “showrooming” — seeing a thing before buying it — is
an integral part of buying books online.
One survey I wrote about a year ago posited that 40% of the people who buy books online looked at them in a bookstore first.
A
New York Times report by
David Streitfeld
two weeks ago took the notion a step further. Noting that “the triumph
of e-books over their physical brethren is not happening quite as fast
as forecast,” Streitfeld floated the idea that this may be due to the
“counterintuitive possibility … that the 2011 demise of Borders, the
second-biggest chain, dealt a surprising blow to the e-book industry.
Readers could no longer see what they wanted to go home and order.”
Got that? The closing of bookstores selling
print books may also be hurting the sale of
ebooks.
The
only logical conclusion one can draw from all this, of course, is that
if B&N goes down the entire industry is fucked. Booksellers,
publishers, authors, agents, librarians, and oh yeah, readers …
But
brace yourself because it’s gong to happen, and in a big way. Not only
is B&N going to get out of its brick-and-mortar business — as I say,
the process is clearly already underway — but the other shoe seemed to
drop last week, when the company released its holiday sales report,
revealing that its plan to become a digital bookseller is in shambles,
and the whole enterprise is in jeopardy.
As a
Publishers Weekly story reported, store sales declined nearly 11%, while NOOK sales tumbled 12.6%. There are no doubt a lot of reasons for this.
Mike Shatzkin has a couple of
interesting observations about the quality of B&N’s bookselling efforts, for example. And I’d say the
Department of Justice abetted B&N’s demise with its
support of Amazon‘s effort
to lower prices: Nook sales were great when agency pricing was in
place, with B&N taking as much as 30% of the digital market away
from Amazon.
But whatever the reason for it, B&N’s holiday numbers were disastrous. As
one analyst told the
Wall Street Journal,
“What
concerns us is that as the overall market gravitates toward color
tablets, you’d have expected that Barnes & Noble would have been
able to maintain its share because it introduced two new color tablets
during the quarter,” said Morningstar analyst Peter Wahlstrom. “They
aren’t behind on the tablet front in the sense that their devices
compare well with others, but they are behind in terms of marketing,
awareness and adoption. And that’s critical.”
Perhaps the most disturbing thing about all this is the fact that, as with
the demise of Borders,
the demise of B&N has nothing to do with what its customers
actually wanted, what’s best for mother literature or free speech, or
anything other than made-up trends covering for killer capitalism.
There’s still plenty of evidence that people like bookstores, for
example, and even sales of hardcovers — let alone print books — are
holding on. And so the lust for higher margins — whether from Godiva
chocolates or ebooks — turned into fool’s gold for B&N. It’s perhaps
a typical death in the Free Trade era, when companies lose all sight of
their identity in the blinding light of the bottom line … but it’s the
wrong death for a bookseller.
But as I say, right or wrong, for
this bookseller, it’s coming. (A highly placed Big Six exec I respect to
no end told me to look for the death of B&N in two to three years.
That was two years ago.) Publishers are on a crash course as to how to
survive without any volume booksellers, and in an environment with one
retailer (oh, guess) representing as much of its business as — well, who
knows? Eighty percent? More? That alone is likely to make publishers
give up on printing books — there’s no sense in printing books if your
main outlet isn’t going to order any until they sell them — and join the
digital “revolution.”
In short, B&N’s scorched earth policy
of the 1990s has ultimately left us with, well, scorched earth. If the
book is going to survive it, it’s going to take some real revolutionary
activity, indeed.