Thus books are made, not after a given pattern, like certain fabrics, but each is a creation in itself. The responsibility of the publisher, for the character of the creation, is by no means unimportant. He acts as arbiter of the standard of excellence that must be attained by an author before he is introduced to the public. The publishers' criterion is simply a question of cash. "Will the public buy the book and pay for it?" Nor can any other standard be adopted with safety. The whole question of supply must always depend upon public demand.
But the publisher is not infallible. He often makes mistakes. Between him and the readers is the dealer. The retail bookseller stands closest to the reading public. He acquaints himself with the essential character of the new book, points out to his customer enough of interest to cause him to glance through it, and finally sells it to him; for the intelligent bookseller knows the taste and reading habits of his customers. He has his leading customers in mind from the time he orders a new book till he has shown it and sold it to them. If they are pleased with it, and recommend it to their friends, who call at the store for it, the bookseller re-orders it, and, if he is so fortunate as not to be restrained by unfair local competition, he advertises the book and pushes its sale with energy, so long as interest in it can be kept alive.
Thus the retail booksellers in every city and hamlet throughout the country, standing close to the reading public, knowing what their customers will buy, are the real monitors of the publishers.
When the publisher considers the advisability of bringing out a new book, he cannot undertake to look beyond a few hundred booksellers. It is through them, and only through them, that he has learned to gauge the taste of the reading public. The paramount question for him to decide is, "How many copies of this particular book can I sell to dealer A, dealer B and dealer C; how many copies of this book can I hope with certainty to sell to all of my customers in the trade?" The publisher well knows that the dealer is governed by the same criterion as himself: "Will it pay; will this book be a ready seller, or will it cost me all of the profit I make on it to sell it?"
Thus the product of the author is subject to the immutable laws of supply and demand from the time he submits his first immature manuscript until he makes two, three, four or more trials, and finally has a manuscript accepted. But even then the publishers prepares only a small edition for a new author, and the dealers are very conservative in ordering a new book—especially by an unknown author. The conscientious bookseller awaits the verdict of certain patrons, knowing that, if the book is commended by one whose judgment is respected by local readers, he can safely re-order a goodly number.
Thus the author is dependent upon the publisher for the standard of excellence he must attain in order to achieve success; the publisher is dependent upon the dealer, not only in forming his judgment of the character of books that will sell, but also for the number that he may safely print; while the dealer is dependent upon his best and most critical patrons. Hence the relation of author, publisher and dealer is so close—indeed they are so mutually interdependent—that one factor could not be removed without vitally crippling the other.
A distinguished librarian, who has been a pioneer of progress in the library movement, has recently suggested the propriety of abolishing book stores (see Publishers' Weekly, May 11, '01, p. 1149) and allowing public librarians to receive orders and forward them to the publishers. If the distinguished gentleman did not have in view visions of personal gain for public librarians, he should have carried his philanthropic suggestion farther, and proposed to abolish both booksellers and librarians, and to allow the public to procure their books directly from the publishers, thus saving that moiety of gain that would be made by either in return for the service rendered. It cannot be supposed that so able and conscientious an administrative officer ever contemplated maintaining an extra corps of assistants, at an extra expense to the municipality or to those liberal benefactors who have endowed public libraries, in order that opulent citizens may still further indulge their tastes by purchasing larger private libraries, without paying the small commission or profit that is usually allowed to retail booksellers. On the other hand, if this proposal was made for the purpose of allowing libraries maintained by taxing the municipality, to engage in gainful occupation, this is carrying the socialistic idea farther than even our populistic friends have ever yet proposed.
However, inasmuch as this question has been raised, we are bound to treat it from an economic point of view. The question is, "Shall the bookseller be abolished and his office merged into that of the librarian, and can the librarian perform the offices of the bookseller?"
No one has ever questioned the value of the public library from the burning of the Alexandrian Library to the present day. The value of a library, as a librarium, or storehouse for the permanent preservation of books, has always been manifest.
Again, the public library gives a larger opportunity and a wider range than is possible in the private collection; and scholars, historians and students of all classes are daily made grateful to the trained, professional librarian, who has so classified the contents of the library as to make the whole available at a moment's notice.