The problem with agile publishing

This new publishing model – with a focus on user feedback, short lead times and successive iterations of the same product – takes its cue from software development. This is hardly surprising, since that's what a large part of book publishing is turning into.

But is it right for book publishing? Is it even right for software development, for that matter?

It's normal for successive iterations of software to be released in stages. Often, this relies on a community of dedicated beta testers, happy to put up with the various flaws (and even find fixes for them), just to get their hands on something new. The software itself is easily updated, as patches and new versions are released.

This is all very well. But I think there's a much greater tendency for users to show patience with small companies or with open source developers than they are with multi-million pound corporations. You only have to look at some of the reaction to Microsoft's upgrade from Hotmail to Outlook (purely as an example of how users can turn against a big company – I can't comment on whether the grievances are genuine).

And when it comes to book publishing, I think we have to be especially careful. People are already asking whether we need publishers. I happen to think that we do. But the reason we need them is that they provide exceptional quality control. We know that a well-published book from a good publisher has been through some painstaking processes to ensure that it's written, structured and presented in the best possible way. If it's a reference book, we feel we can trust the information in it.

A big part of agile publishing seems to be the idea that it doesn't have to be perfect first time. But I think an equally big part of book publishing is the idea that it does.

The economics of regional book pricing

It's been reported this week that Waterstones is considering different book prices for different regions. This is nothing new in this in retailing, and in bookselling it's not unlike the difference in price between hardbacks and paperbacks.

It is, of course, all about selling more books, but it's not just about that.

It's also about finding each individual's price point and eliminating what's known as the 'consumer surplus'.

Essentially, we all have an upper limit on the price we'd be willing to pay for everything we buy. Every time we buy something for less than that price, we effectively get something for nothing - a bit of a discount if you like. That's the consumer surplus.

Retailers would love to be able to charge us according to our individual price points. But it's not that easy. Most don't have the option of sizing us up and switching their price labels as we enter the store.

So they opt for the next best thing. It's possible to work out profiles for people living in different areas, which then allow you to make educated guesses: the individual price point for book X for people living in area Y is likely to be around £Z.

The trouble is that once someone knows they're being asked to pay a higher price just because someone's worked out that they'd be prepared to, the willingness to pay that higher price is in danger of evaporating.

Manufacturers can get over the problem by repackaging essentially the same product and giving it a different brand - two very similar cars, made by the same company, can attract very different price points thanks to the badge on the front.

But if the consumer knows that their local shop is charging more for exactly the same product than is being charged in another area, you have to wonder what this will do for customer loyalty.

So perhaps a different approach is required for the publishing world. Now that the ebook revolution is gathering momentum, there's already talk of doing something a little different with printed books - of making them more beautiful - more a luxury item. And the answer in terms of differential pricing may be to take the hardback/paperback distinction a little further and to push the more beautifully packaged books in some areas, while offering cheaper, more basic, products in others.

E-ink + mobile phone = death of the e-reader?

Because the paper-mimicking qualities (and long battery life) of e-ink displays are just about the only thing that make dedicated e-readers worth having. Now that e-ink is being incorporated into mobile phone displays, I can't help thinking that this is the beginning of the end for e-book-specific devices. Samsung's Alias 2 and the new Samsung Zeal (http://www.pocket-lint.com/news/36688/samsung-zeal-e-ink-phone), for example, are starting to use e-ink powered keypads. And with a new colour e-ink e-reader just launched (http://news.cnet.com/8301-1023_3-20022237-93.html), how long before we see this technology in mobile phones? And who will want to cart around an e-reader when a mobile phone will be capable of doing everything the e-reader does and more?

Of course, we're not quite there yet, and, as the capabilities of different devices converge, I wonder whether we'll see a series of hybrids, with consumers opting for whichever reflects their primary use. Do you want a mobile phone for e-books or an e-reader on which you can make phone calls?

What will we leave behind?

Will we ever get to the stage where a truly great literary work is published only in electronic format?

If so, will it still be around in 200, 500 or 1,000 years?

I can’t help wondering if the rapid pace of technological change that defines our era also makes us incredibly short-sighted. I remember being taught how to use a word-processing program at school. I was told that it was very important to master it, that it was a crucial business skill, that it was the next big thing – everyone would be using it.

By the time I entered the job market, I’d forgotten everything I’d learnt about it.

But that was OK – it was obsolete anyway by then.

Of course, things will be a little different with published e-books, and I’m sure efforts will be made to transfer existing works to new formats as those new formats are developed. There is also work under way to ensure that work stored in obsolete formats will be accessible by current users (this looks like an interesting and worthy project: Keeping emulation environments portable or KEEP).

But this only goes so far. Because I think our high standard of living and sense of technological achievement belie the ephemeral nature of that achievement. There is no guarantee (especially with the environmental troubles facing future generations) that our civilisation will continue in the same form for the next 100 or 200 years, let alone the next 1,000.

So there may come a time when all that is left of this great technological age is what can be discerned from the archaeological record. And there is a chance that that won’t amount to very much. Even if hard drives, CD-ROMs and magnetic tape survive for generations, will future civilisations know what to do with them?

And if not, should we be keeping printed, written records of everything that is published electronically? Should we also be trying to ensure that those printed records are durable (something that, perhaps, goes against the grain at a time when we are supposed to be making everything biodegradable)? Of course, the trouble with that is that there is probably not enough paper in the world to do it. Someone could browse the web for a lifetime without coming close to reading all the content on it.

So it is inevitable that a huge part of the world’s repository of knowledge and literature is, by its very nature, transient.

This places a huge burden of responsibility upon publishers. They are the ones faced with the enormous task of sorting the wheat from the chaff (and you don’t have to browse the web for very long before realising that there is an awful lot of chaff out there!). And although their primary motivation is obviously to make money, we can also hope that they also have an eye on their place in history.

After all, it is possible that the work of the greatest writer who ever lived is languishing, undiscovered, on a web server somewhere, waiting to be given the permanent form of a printed book before it is lost forever…

The future of e-readers

E-readers – electronic devices that can store hundreds of books at a time – are beginning to make some inroads into the market for traditional paper books. And there is much to be said for something that gives you hundreds of books at your fingertips while weighing no more than an average paperback.

The trouble is, though, that most e-readers can't do much more. There is no colour and limited multimedia functionality.

And with publishers now starting to make content available via mobile phone, is this the future of the e-book? After all, why pay £200 or more for an e-reader, when you can get the same functionality on your phone … which you can also use to make calls, access the internet, send emails, etc, etc.

One answer is that e-readers typically have much more readable interfaces. A lot of time and money has been invested in creating screens that mimic ordinary paper as much as possible. The absence of screen flicker and projected light should make e-readers much easier on the eye than mobile phones or pocket PCs. There is also less screen glare, which make them usable outside even when it is sunny (and this is a frustrating thing about some modern mobile phones – I can't use mine at all in strong sunlight, in contrast to the first one I ever bought, more than ten years ago).

To me, e-readers as they are seem like an intermediate technology with a limited shelf-life. The interface is at the moment the only real advantage they have over other technologies and how long will it take mobile phone manufacturers to devise screens that will be equally easy to read?

Unless, that is, makers of e-readers can raise their game too. More multi-media features, full internet browsing capabilities, colour, perhaps – all without losing that easy-to-read screen? And what about flexible electronic paper – something that's been on the horizon for some time and is now becoming viable? People like the feel of real, paper books. An e-reader that seems more like a 'real' book will surely enjoy more success. And to really compete effectively [a split infinitive – I am obviously learning to be flexible!], e-readers are also bound to need the robustness of a paper book. Something that you can drop in the bath without it being a complete disaster. Or take with you to a sandy beach. Or drop on a concrete floor.

Even then, though, books are not just for reading. They can be conversation pieces and even status symbols. A full book shelf says a lot about its owner. What's more, I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks it's easier to scan a bookshelf for a title than it is to look through a list of titles on an electronic device. Perhaps, then, one day we’ll see virtual 'bookshelves' – wall mounted displays showing off your books in all their glory – touch a title and it loads up in your e-reader…

Maybe. But it seems to me that we're just getting to grips with lots of converging technologies – e-readers, mobile phones, pocket PCs, etc. When the dust settles, whatever we end up with will probably seem perfectly natural and obvious when it arrives. But books in their current form have been around for hundreds of years and it's going to take a few collective leaps of imagination to catch up with the possibilities that current technology offers.