I remember watching Match Of The Day the week that Trevor Brooking had his hair dyed. Seven days previously, he’d simply been an ex-footballer turned pundit, a middle-aged man with greying, salt-and-pepper hair. Entirely unremarkable. Now, he was suddenly sporting impossibly glossy, impeccably jet-black locks. If it was intended to roll back the years, it failed. He simply looked ridiculous. Worse, it was clear that not only was everyone in the studio being very careful not to mention how ridiculous he looked, but Trevor was painfully aware that they were doing the not mentioning. Whether they were talking about movement off the ball, attacking width, or defensive frailty was irrelevant. All of them – and I think it’s fair to include Trevor in this* – were wondering what in the name of sweet jesus he’d been thinking, then praying they didn’t ask that question out loud.
By the end of the show I’d learned two things. I knew what car crash TV was, and I understood what was meant by the elephant in the room, the thing that takes up all the space, that everyone dances round, and ignores, and tries to make out isn’t there.
For a lot of small publishers – and certainly for Ignite Books – that elephant is Amazon.
You see, I get the convenience of it. You want to buy books, and you want to buy books from the comfort of your own home, and Amazon make it easy. Just go to the website, browse for what you’re after, click, and it’s done. No fuss, no effort, no schlepping it round the shops in the rain. It’s a godsend. Especially for anyone who doesn’t live within walking distance of a decent bookshop, or who’s short on free time. And if you’re a publisher, Amazon offers you another platform on which to promote your books, a free window onto the world wide web, a presence on a website known to millions of consumers.
Hmmm. Sounds good. So why the elephant analogy? What’s not to like?
Well…
They treat small publishers, and all their customers, with contempt. There. I’ve said it. Now let me explain.
As a publisher, we’ve learned they simply don’t pass on your orders. You click and buy, and we should get an email asking us to supply X copies of ‘Wild Thing’, or ‘Mud Sharks’, or whatever. But the email never comes, so we can’t, because we don’t know the order’s made. You wait patiently, for weeks maybe, and when you finally ask what’s happened, they tell you there’s a problem with the supplier, that the fault lies with Ignite Books, not them. Not true.
Why aren’t they passing on the orders? We did try to find out, but it’s only when you search the Amazon website for some kind of contact number or email address that you realise there isn’t one. Amazon aren’t interested in answering the phone, in being answerable at all. Maybe they’ve decided there isn’t enough money in the handful of sales they make from small publishers, who knows? To be honest, that wouldn’t be a crime. But I’d argue that to take an order for a book they’ve no intention of supplying, and then point the finger at a small business while absolving themselves of blame, is to treat both you and ourselves with contempt.
And for those of you who’ve had great service from Amazon, to whom this might sound like nothing more than sour grapes, a touch of the green-eyed monster, or jealousy at their success, I’ve one word. Tax.
If you haven’t been living under a rock for the last few weeks, you’ll know that Amazon – along with corporates like Starbucks and Google – have structured their organisations so they pay virtually no corporation tax to the UK government on UK sales. They’re happy to take your money, but when it comes to helping contribute to the costs of providing hospitals, or doctors, or nurses, or care for the elderly or the disabled – when it comes, in other words, to helping you, your family, or friends – they look the other way.
Again, in my world, that’s treating you with contempt.
The consumer is, of course, king. And you can buy your books wherever you want. But with kingship comes responsibility, and the knowledge that the choices we make help shape the world we live in. So, next time you’re shopping for books, how about buying from one of the few remaining independent stores, or from your local bookshop, or from online booksellers that pay tax on their turnover. You support them, and they in turn – by paying their taxes – support you. Think about it.
As I believe I said earlier, what’s not to like?
*The following week, I think Trevor wore a hat.