While I realize that last week's column could easily generate a
book's--even a Borgesian library's--worth of "red cover" anecdotes,
I'll restrain myself to just a few more observations, culled from
recent bookseller emails about "the game."
Valerie Kohler, owner of Blue Willow Bookshop in Houston, Tex., says
that in recent months, she has been giving a lot of thought to online
searching as it relates to the game: "One of the downsides to the
search engine offered through BookSense.com is that it is not
particularly forgiving. But maybe we could have a place on the front
page to click if a customer has a book mystery. It would take you to
our e-mail with instructions (i.e. Did you see it on TV? Possible
title?). We are definitely putting this idea on the talk-about sheet at
our next weekly marketing meeting."
Finding a way to merge technology with bookseller instinct is the
challenge. Koehler has always trained her staff to field title requests
from customers with a healthy dose of well-masked skepticism. "When
searching, use unique keywords," she advises. "Ask leading questions."
Assume they are a little confused. She cited a recent example. The
customer was reading a great book and wanted copies for two friends.
She described it as "a memoir with 'I Remember' in the title, in which
a retired man is dying and telling his life story and he was a
historian and he studied war and he lived on an island." Using these
clues, Koehler "gently" enlightened the customer that she was actually
reading Rules for Old Men Waiting, a novel. Result: pleased customer
and two books sold.
I could go on. I shouldn't. How can I resist?
Susan Fox and her husband, Naftali Rottenstreich, opened Red Fox Books
in Glens Falls, N.Y., last October. According to Susan, "People showed
up on our first day with lists in their hands. They'd been waiting for
us to open, so we really hit the ground running . . . lots of 'I read
about this book, about a man . . . ' "
Some of her early favorites were a request for a Christmas book that
"has Santa in it" and the person who was searching for "that book by
the man who's going to be our next president."
Fox says her greatest success as a book detective thus far has been
locating "a short story in a travel collection from a very cryptic
description of 'I heard this guy on NPR.' But then again, I was stumped
when someone else came in looking for 'the light blue book.' "
Marilyn Dahl, my colleague here at Shelf Awareness, recalls playing the
game "usually with gusto" for many years. She contributes a variation
on the theme, called "I know it's in paperback." This is a frequent
customer demand for books that are at least 10 months shy of paperback
status. Initial requests are delivered courteously enough, but when
faced with--well, let's just call it what it is--reality, the
customers' absolute certainty is quickly backed by evidence like "my
mother has a copy" or "I saw it at Barnes & Noble" or "I saw it at
Heathrow on my way back from Paris."
Dahl remembers the New Yorker cartoon in which a bookseller is shown
tearing boards from a hardcover while saying to his customer, "You're
right. It does come in paperback."
So, how can these labyrinthian debates, conversations, explorations,
contradictions and ultimate solutions possibly occur online?
Valerie Kohler directed my attention to a recent article in Internet
Retailer, which showcased a study of Web searches by online shoppers.
According to the article, Inter-Engine researchers discovered that the
"retail Web sites of major retail chains showed up in only 5% of
holiday season 2006 Internet searches across 10 product categories,
including digital cameras, iPods, plasma TVs and baby strollers . . .
The study analyzed more than 2,000 results from searches conducted on
the three leading search engines, Google, Yahoo and MSN. It found that
the results directed online shoppers to online-only or independent
multi-channel retailers six times more often than to major retail
chains."
It sounds a lot like chaos, but could that also be opportunity I hear knocking?
I'll pose a question, even at the risk of sounding like Richard
Dreyfuss in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, staring at a mound of
mashed potatoes and muttering, "This means something."
If search engines don't play the game as well as booksellers do, can
booksellers find a way to bring their best game online?--Robert Gray
(column archives available at Fresh Eyes Now)