Join Us Thursday For A Conversation With Rob Reid, Author Of Year Zero; Plus August's Book Of The Month

from the no-safe-harbors dept

As you hopefully remember, the Techdirt "book of the month" for July was Rob Reid's Year Zero, the sci-fi novel about aliens realizing they owe the earth all the money in the universe because they've been infringing US copyright law while listening to all of our music (which they love). We published an excerpt here. For the last few books, we've held text chats via CoverItLive, but with Rob, we're going to try something different. On Thursday, at 12:30pm PT/3:30pm ET, we'll be broadcasting a live video chat (via Google's "Hangouts on Air" and YouTube) between myself and Rob (he'll be live at Techdirt's offices). I'll have a bunch of questions for him, but we'll also be taking questions online, which you can submit via Twitter during the chat, using the hashtag #yearzero, which we'll be monitoring. You'll also be able to submit questions via Google Plus. As with the text chat, this will be an experiment, so we'll see how it goes.

We also wanted to announce the August book of the month, which is No Safe Harbor, a collection of essays, on a variety of topics that we cover here on Techdirt, put together by the US Pirate Party. You can buy the book at Amazon or (of course) download it from the link above in pretty much every format imaginable. We'll be talking to Andrew "K'Tetch" Norton, who put the book together late in August or early in September.

Filed Under: books, rob reid, techdirt book club, year zero

Author Strips Naked To Protest Book Piracy; Probably Works As Well As Anything Else

from the that-is-to-say,-it-won't-work dept

Not quite sure what to make of this, but ZDNet has the story of Brazilian author Vanessa de Oliveira stripping naked in public to protest infringing copies of her books, both printed and digital, in Peru. She wrote "NO TO PIRACY" (or, rather, "NO A LA PIRATERIA") in red ink on her front and back, and disrobed in a public place (in front of the Governmental Palace in Lima, Peru) with lots of cameras and press around. Obviously, there is video, though, of course it is certainly NSFW (depending on your place of work): The ZDNet piece provides some rough translations of what de Oliveira had to say on the matter, including claims that there is no book piracy in Brazil (totally not true) and that infringement of books "endangers culture" (also empirically not true).

If it's not obvious, this is clearly a publicity stunt around her book, which according to TorrentFreak's article is "based on her experiences bedding nearly 5,000 men." Uh, yeah.

But the thing that struck me about all of this is that this sort of thing probably works about as well as any other "anti-piracy" technique. Well, if anything, it might do more to increase both piracy and sales of her book, as it may increase interest in the book. But I fail to see how it does anything whatsoever to decrease piracy.

Filed Under: books, brazil, peru, piracy, publicity stunt, stripping, vanessa de oliveira

Are Books Printed With Disappearing Ink Really The Best Way To Make People Read Them?

from the bit-of-a-waste dept

As Techdirt has noted, the main threat to artists is not piracy, but obscurity -- the fact that few know they are creating interesting stuff. As passive consumers increasingly become creators themselves, and the competition increases, that's even more of an issue. For writers, there's a double problem: not only do people need to hear about a work, they also have to find the time to explore it once acquired, and that's often a challenge in our over-filled, stressed-out lives -- unless we're talking about haiku. Here's an unusual approach to encouraging people to find that time to read books:

El Libro que No Puede Esperar (The Book That Can't Wait) comes in a sealed package and as soon as you start to turn its pages, the ink begins to age... and fade. Readers have less than two months to tackle the tome before the text toddles off into the ether.

As a video made by the Argentinian publishers explains (embedded below), an anthology of new writing from Latin America was printed using this ink; the hope was that the sense of urgency imparted by the disappearing texts would encourage more people than usual to read the book and discover its authors.

It's a clever idea, but I have a couple of problems with it. One is that this seems like a waste of resources: a book is printed and bound, with all that this implies in terms of energy, but at the end you have only blank pages. Yes, you could write on them, but how many people would do that? Alternatively, you could recycle it, but that uses even more resources to produce basic paper pulp.

I'm also troubled by the pressure the vanishing ink implicitly puts on readers. The idea that you must finishing reading a book within a set time or otherwise you'll have lost the opportunity is hardly conducive to enjoyment. It smacks rather of the classroom, where teachers tell you to finish a book by a certain date, with the justification that the experience will be good for you.

It seems to me that a much better idea would be to give away representative works as ebooks -- with no pressure that they must be read by a certain date. There's minimal waste of resources, since electrons don't cost much to deliver. And best of all, if you really like the book, you can give a copy to your friends in order to share the pleasure (provided there's no stupid DRM to stop you.)

Surely that's the best way of encouraging people to read new authors -- or try out new creations in general: getting those who already enjoy something to pass it on to people they know with the powerful added ingredient of a personal recommendation. No clever tricks involving vanishing ink can compete with something as strong as that.

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Filed Under: books, publishing, vanishing ink

Seth Godin Uses Kickstarter To Test The Market For His Next Book (And The Results Are Good)

from the demand-proofing dept

As a few people sent in, famed author Seth Godin is doing an interesting experiment with Kickstarter, where he has teamed up with a publisher who essentially wanted to use the platform to prove there's significant demand for Godin's next book. Basically, if he could effectively sell pre-orders for the project to raise $40,000, then the publisher would invest in the project as well and support getting it into bookstores and putting a promotional campaign behind it. It took Godin less than three hours to surpass that goal (and then go way, way beyond it as well).
Godin makes a strong point about how the traditional process, of investing a ton of money upfront, without knowing if there's really demand, is inherently risky for traditional publishers (and studios and labels). This is one area where a platform like Kickstarter is quite interesting beyond just the "fundraising" side of things. It can also be a tool for gauging demand for a project.

In fact, some others have been recognizing exactly that. Andy Baio recently wrote a column at Wired, in which he talks about using Kickstarter as a way to judge demand for something without having to put forth that initial capital expenditure.

Of course, once you realize that it can be a demand platform, rather than purely a funding platform, interesting possibilities open up:

As far as I can tell, nobody’s flipped it around and tried to commission a musician to play for fans. Most bands already play corporate events and private parties. If fans collectively raise the same amount of money, why not play a house show for them instead? For fans, it’d be a once-in-a-lifetime experience to see an artist they love in an intimate setting. For musicians, it’d pay well without the malaise that comes from playing the Intel holiday party.

In other words, as a demand platform, Kickstarter (or others) can be used to demonstrate demand (and actual money) for something that people want to come into existence, and then people can figure out how to make it happen. That's pretty powerful just for being different than how things have been done before.

That's not to say that this makes sense for everything, or that there aren't risks associated with it. Execution matters, and paying up at the demand stage can lead to disappointment if the eventual product doesn't live up to expectations (or, worse, never actually gets made). So there's a different kind of risk there, though one that is likely to be more distributed. There is also the risk of "failure." A good idea that may not be explained well at this stage may not come to fruition. But, in the end, these are really just flipsides to the traditional risk taken by gatekeepers. It's just that it's getting moved around, and done in a way that actually decreases the overall burden of the risk, which makes it possible to create more with less overhead (a good thing for everyone!)

And, remember, we're really only in the first few years of these types of efforts. Kickstarter, which gets most of the attention, is just three years old. Imagine where things will be 10 years from now.

Filed Under: books, business models, demand, seth godin, test

Why Do We Celebrate The 'Solitary' Experience Of Books But Decry The Social Experience Of Online Social Media?

from the newness-vs.-oldness dept

We already wrote making people more lonely, but that same piece made Mathew Ingram go on a bit of rant on Twitter raising a good point. He noted that the same folks who decry social media for making people lonely often celebrate the importance of the solitary experience of reading books. He finds it odd that the solitary experience of reading books is seen as sacrosanct and notes that both experiences can be used to "escape from the real world." So why is one considered bad and one considered an important cultural point?

I'd guess part of it is simply generational. As Douglas Adams has stated (I'm paraphrasing slightly), every tech around by the time you're born is "normal," new technology that is invented before you're thirty is cool and new and anything that gets invented after you're thirty is "against the natural order of things and the beginning of the end of civilization as we know it." It seems there's definitely an element of that happening here. Also, there's some view that talking to friends is just idle chatter... whereas reading a book is a "serious" thing from which you might learn. Of course, the fact that the most popular books are probably just as insight free as many online conversations is ignored. It's not like everyone reading books is digging into a meaty exploration of ways to solve all the world's problems. Either way, Mathew raises a good point. I'd be curious if someone can defend the importance of books while also defending the claim that social networking is useless without being self-contradictory.

Filed Under: books, douglas adams, mathew ingram, sherry turkle, social media, solitude

Why The 'Missing 20th Century' Of Books Is Even Worse Than It Seems

from the digging-deeper-into-the-numbers dept

There's been quite a bit of chatter lately about some research by Professor Paul Heald from the University of Illinois. Heald recently delivered a seminar on the stagnating effects of extended copyright terms in the U.S., and blogger Eric Crampton immediately called attention to one data-set about books that is particularly telling (found through Slate) which illustrates what The Atlantic has dubbed "The Missing 20th Century". It's the number of titles available from Amazon as new editions (as opposed to used copies) graphed by the decade of original publication:

The source of that massive fall-off at the midpoint is seemingly simple: all books published in the U.S. in 1922 or earlier are in the public domain. What's immediately apparent from this graph is the fact that copyright is limiting the public's access to older works—but why and how, exactly? The answer lies in the reality of what a copyright is really worth, commercially, and how long it retains that value—and it sheds light on another problem with copyright law.

To better understand this, we can look to some earlier study from William Patry in his book Moral Panics and the Copyright Wars. For works created between 1923 and 1963, creators or publishers had to register to receive copyright protection for 28 years, and could then renew for another 28. Patry looked at data from 1958/59, and saw that in every medium except film, the majority of creators didn't bother to renew their copyright registrations:

If an author or publisher didn't renew the copyright on a book, it means they didn't think they could make any more money with it. The monopoly of copyright had lost its value—so much so that it was worth less than the time it takes to submit a form. But, as Heald's graph shows us, that doesn't mean the work itself has lost value, because lots of publishers clearly want to publish pre-1923 public domain books. This is something most copyright supporters ignore: entering the public domain can actually renew the value of art, and can (and does) stimulate the economy by allowing others to exploit additional commercial value from a work beyond what was possible under copyright. The commercial usefulness of a monopoly on a book has a shorter shelf-life than the monopoly actually granted by copyright law. Based on Patry's findings, that shelf life is somewhere under 28 years, otherwise more people would have renewed their registration—but copyright lasts much longer than 28 years. Thus you get the giant gulf on Heald's chart: in between the pre-1923 public domain books and the books that are new enough to still be actively sold, there are several decades of titles that are no longer worth anything to their rightsholders, but can't be offered by anyone else because they are still effectively under copyright.

Yes, just effectively—not actually. As you may have noticed, there seems to be a contradiction here: if the majority of copyright registrations went un-renewed, then the majority of books published between 1923 and 1963 have lapsed into the public domain alongside the books from 1922 and earlier, so the drop-off in Heald's chart should be much, much smaller. This is not a conflict in the data, it's a symptom another massive and entirely separate problem with copyright law which I discussed in a recent post: the difficulty of determining a work's status.

The fact is, the majority of 1923-63 books are indeed in the public domain because they weren't renewed, but there's only one way to know this for sure: checking the records held by the Copyright Office. None of the records from that period have been digitized yet, so the only way to check them is by actually going to Washington and visiting the physical card catalogue, or paying a researcher to do it for you. Obviously this added effort and expense drastically limits the appeal of these suddenly-not-so-public domain works—and as the numbers from Amazon demonstrate, it's having a very real effect. Publishers are clearly eager to offer public domain titles, but are only comfortable doing so when the lack of copyright is guaranteed. All those later works are effectively removed from the public domain, preventing economic activity and making them hard for people to obtain.

Now, of course, neither registration nor renewal is required: everyone is granted a copyright on everything they create, lasting until long after their death, despite clear evidence that the value of a commercial monopoly almost always expires in a fraction of that time. Sometime in the future, someone is going to reprise Heald's graph, and that gulf of forgotten works that benefit nobody is going to be a whole lot bigger.

Filed Under: books, copyright terms, paul heald, public domain
Companies: amazon

Tell Paypal To Stop Playing Morality Cop With Booksellers

from the let-payments-go-free dept

We recently wrote about how Paypal was pressuring Smashwords to drop any books that included sexual content that Paypal didn't like. This seemed ridiculously over-aggressive. You can be completely against rape without that meaning that no books shall exist that include a rape scene. But according to Paypal's rules, books that include themes around rape, incest and bestiality -- even if such books were there to raise awareness around those things, not to encourage them -- simply were not allowed. Smashwords claims that Paypal is passing the blame on to the credit card companies, but others have questioned how accurate that really is. And, even then, it seems that Paypal should stand up to the credit card companies if that is, indeed, the case.

In the meantime, the EFF has put together a letter writing campaign to tell Paypal to stop censoring books:

Recently, PayPal gave online publishers and booksellers, including BookStrand.com, Smashwords, and eXcessica, an ultimatum: it would close their accounts and refuse to process all payments unless they removed erotic books containing descriptions of rape, incest, and bestiality. The result would severely restrict the public's access to a wide range of legal material, could drive some companies out of business, and deprive some authors of their livelihood.

Financial services providers should be neutral when it comes to lawful online speech. PayPal’s policy underscores how vulnerable such speech can be and how important it is to stand up and protect it.

The topics PayPal would ban have been depicted in world literature since Sophocles’ Oedipus and Ovid’s Metamorphoses. And while the books currently affected may not appear to be in the same league, many works ultimately recognized for their literary, historical, and artistic worth were reviled when first published. Books like Ulysses and Lady Chatterley’s Lover were banned as “obscene” in the United States because of their sexual content. The works of Marquis de Sade, which include descriptions of incest, torture, and rape, were considered scandalous when written, although his importance in the history of literature and political and social philosophy is now widely acknowledged.

You can go to the link above and add your name to the campaign and let Paypal know that this is not the role of a payment processor.

Of course, what this story is really highlighting is just how ridiculous it is that there are choke points like Paypal who can solely dictate morality based on their own views of what is and what is not art. What we need are a lot of alternatives, so that if Paypal makes decisions like this, people can simply route around them.

Filed Under: books, free speech, morality, publishing
Companies: paypal, smashwords