This morning, literally three minutes ago, it hit me again: What am I doing here?! This crisis is getting old, but somehow it’s not getting wrinkled as it ages – it’s as shiny and appealing as it was five years ago. What on earth am I, a bibliophile, a writer, doing making books to sell? Who do I think I am?!
I recently moved up the ranks (well, one rank) as a publisher. I love the strategic thinking that my job requires: analysing the market and feeling out weak points, devising something to buffer that week point and then making it look pretty. Well, I would if this was what my job entailed. Except that in moving the book through the process, it comes out looking just like everything else. And the market doesn’t want to buy it – we have to convince them that it fills that weak point. Twist their arms into a Chinese bangle. Join the system and convert people, like a Jehovah’s Witness.
But do these books really do anything? Of course a book is a valuable thing. But are these books priceless or just pricey? I don’t think open learning will be effective – copyright exists because people want to be paid for their creative property. Open learning is only appealing because universities need more funding and entrepreneurs want to make money while being considered to be philanthropists. Open learning is the market of the wealthy and well-meaning but naïve liberals.
So again I say, publishing should be left to those who like books and those who don’t care, never to those who worship at their altar.
