I was recently reading an article about how “half of the books longlisted for the National Book Award for Fiction and more than half of the books longlisted for the Giller Prize are published by Penguin Random House” and I immediately thought:
That’s not a good thing.
Perhaps it was starting the year off with leading a literary salon on R. F. Kuang’s novel Yellowface, a satire on the publishing industry that was heavily promoted by the very industry it took aim at, but I feel a big theme this year at my virtual book discussions and in my Instagram DMs revolve around the publishing industry.
Who chooses what books, voices, ideas get published? Or get big budgets for promotion? Is it simply about the bottom line or does the concept of art and creativity factor into decision making? How do these efforts and motivations impact the everyday reader’s actions?
In essence: who chooses the winners in the publishing game?
A little background: you might have heard that there are the Big Five in publishing, this alludes to the traditional publishing houses Simon & Schuster, Penguin Random House, HarperCollins, Hachette Book Group, and Macmillan. We can consider these as umbrellas that encompass imprints (a subsidiary of a publishing company). For example, Signet Classics is part of Penguin, Atria Books is part of Simon & Schuster. So, while it might seem that you have many books on your shelves that are not from one of these Big Five, chances are much of your book buying dollars go to these companies.
In contrast, there are independent publishers and options for writers to self-publish. However, being published at one of the Big Five is considered a huge achievement for writers as it provides a sense of a stamp of approval—not to mention the machinery that comes with it: social media teams, contacts with booksellers, marketing experts, graphics designers, etc. Although, again, these resources aren’t applied the same way to all books that do end up being published.
As a complementary consideration for this post, you may remember the 2022-23 Harper Collins strike where one of the demands by workers was to “address the lack of diversity in its workforce.” According to recent data where people were asked to self-identify, “72.5 percent of US publishing, review journal, and literary agency staffers are white/Caucasian.” The next biggest group in this recent survey was “biracial/multiracial” at 8.4%, not even close! This strike offered book lovers a glimpse behind the curtain of the publishing world.
Now, consider these insights about the publishing industry with a near-monopoly of a single house for certain ‘big’ awards. It makes me feel uncomfortable.
This structure of exclusivity is meant to drum up interest in our wanting ‘in’; it is only human to want to be accepted, especially around ideas of being cultural and intelligent. And I will admit that I get caught up in this idea! It feels as if I, too, can be a part of the literati if I read award winning novels or tick off reading the titles of a long list. But when the offerings within that pool become so small, it starts to feel like I’m being manipulated.
And what I have come to realize is that being an award winner, or recognised by an award panel, doesn’t equate unanimously into great literature.
One of my considerations for choosing which modern novels end up on the Le Salon schedule involves keeping an eye on literary awards. The moneyed promotion of long- and short lists for awards means titles and authors are often more recognizable to readers. My hope is that this awareness will translate in to participants for my small business as readers will already have added these books to their TBR.
But after leading a number of discussions on books associated with awards, here’s an overview of the sentiments from participants:
We read Maggie O’Farrell’s historical novel The Marriage Portrait which was long listed for the Women’s Prize (O’Farrell had previously won the prize in 2020). For Halloween last year we discussed Bad Cree by Jessica Johns which had won the 2023 MacEwan Book of the Year award. More recently, we discussed the popular Tik Tok recommendation The Grace Year by Kim Liggett who had previously won the 2018 Bram Stoker Award for Young Adult Literature. At each virtual discussion, it was agreed that these books missed the mark, either through weak plot or underdeveloped characters.
In contrast, The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey, which was a finalist for the 2013 Pulitzer Prize, Do You Remember Being Born? by Scotiabank Giller Prize-winning author Sean Michaels, and Build Your House Around My Body by Violet Kuppersmith, longlisted for the 2022 Women’s Prize for Fiction, were all enjoyed by participants who found these works creative, touching, and had stories that would stay with them long after closing the back cover.
Of course, these views are just a small sample of folks, but I have really found the quality of writing and storytelling to oscillate when I have put award winning authors and novels on the Le Salon schedule. This leads me back to one of the cornerstones of Le Salon Literary Discussions: no matter if it is an award-winning novel or not, reading books with a critical eye can mean you get to evaluate if a novel is good or not—no matter what a panel of judges says.
I realize that this post poses more questions than answers, because ultimately, I don’t think we have a clear understanding of the inner working of the big publishing houses. Do you find yourself picking up award winners because of the prestige? Do you trust the voice of one type of award or recognition more than the other (Giller vs Pulitzer?) Do you follow literary awards? If you do, which ones do you pay attention to? And if not, who or what are your trusted sources for book recommendations?