RUTHERBLOG

Christmas: the time of year when people who don’t like music buy music, and people who don’t read books buy books.

If you’re a music buff (I mean the sort of person who has Alberto Y Lost Trios Paranoyos on vinyl, or who thinks the Rolling Stones blew their credibility with the 1966 ‘Aftermath’ album) then you’ll watch the TV ads promoting the new Boyzone covers of Westlife (or vice versa) and weep into your cushions.

Well, here’s the truth. They’re not aimed at you.  The target is people who buy records twice a year – usually for Christmas and Mother’s Day.

Similarly with books: Despite the mind-boggling statistic that the UK publishing industry produces 4,000 new titles a week , book buying is a minority activity.

According to Nielsen Bookscan, 20% of all book sales happen in the run up to Christmas. While the literati may be out in giddy force looking for the new Herta Muller or Elizabeth Strout, the majority of sales that happen in the next six weeks will be to people who usually go into a bookshop for a coffee and to shelter from the rain.

THE LAST HURRAH?

Added to this, the book trade is going through the same radical shift that the music business has experienced over the past ten years. The arrival of Amazon changed the game (much as I try to support independents, for at least five years the majority of my book buying has been online), as did the entry of the supermarkets. So trying to complete with that shift in models has become increasingly difficult.

But, to misquote Bachman Turner Overdrive,  they ain’t seen nothing yet: the Amazon Kindle and Sony e-reader – plus other lesser-known platforms – are about to change the whole paradigm of the industry, in the same way as the MP3.

So the booksellers are having to work doubly hard to wring the most from their peripatetic customers at this time of year – because it might be their last oturn on the swings.

Deep discounting is common, best known as the 3-for-2 offer which has almost become the standard now in the sector (in the same way that furniture stores have an annual sale. Not once a year: ALL year.)

So hats off to my local Waterstone’s branch for this moment of genuine merchandising insight:

Not sure what to buy your husband / son / uncle / nephew / brother this year? But know that he likes watching all those BBC re-runs on that blokey channel.

Well, Waterstones have made it a straightforward purchase. Here, in one place,  are all the celebrity brands and TV tie-ins that you might have heard of, and you feel pretty sure that he’ll enjoy.

Don’t scoff; it may not be the high culture or specialist niche that interests you – but it is a triumph of customer understanding and sales promotion. Helping a customer base that isn’t quite sure about the market, doesn’t quite know what’s acceptable now to buy for a 17 year-old grandson (“they grow up so fast don’t they?”) but who recognise that nice young man off the telly.

It’s a superb example of Sales 101: Selling is making buying easy.

Popularity: 28% [?]

BAD SCIENCE

Ben Goldacre’s book continues a trend that has emerged in my reading over the past couple of years: non-fiction aimed at debunking the imbecilic, the deluded and the irrational.

It started with Francis Wheen’s “How Mumbo Jumbo Conquered the World” – a polemic about flying saucers, New Age spirituality, financial fraud (oh how we should have listened), cults, quakery and moral confusion.

Last year, I found Michael Bywater’s “Big Babies: Or, Why Can’t We Just Grow Up“, a rant against the infantilization of the modern world; how we are treated like children who can’t make their own decisions in a big big bad world. “Peanuts: make contain nuts”; “Hot Coffee: contents may be hot.”

Both books are very funny; both books are thought-provoking, and tap in to the Grumpy Old Man zeitgeist. But on reflection, they’re little more than accumulated anecdotes used to illustrate a series of prejudices. Very entertaining cultural criticism, but hardly analyses based on scientific principles.

‘Bad Science’ takes the debunking genre to a different level altogether.

Dr Ben Goldacre (a medical doctor, with a medical degree, from a recognised university – unlike many of the ‘experts’ he investigates) writes a column for The Guardian and runs a website collecting stories of manipulated drug trials, selective evidence, misrepresented statistics and fallacious solutions to ill-defined problems.

In doing so, Goldacre has upset many people and created a lot of enemies – many of whom are in the media itself. His biggest complaint is that most journalists and editors come from the Humanities background and don’t understand the scientific method generally, or evidence-based medicine specifically.

As he puts it, most science stories in the press aren’t covered by scientists.

Hence, we are fed an endless stream of nonsense, presented as ‘proven’ treatments: detox patches; Hopi ear candles; colonic irrigation; fish oil supplements that improve GCSE results – Goldacre’s book is full of analyses of the pseudoscience behind this quakery, and why intelligent people find themselves believing stupid things.

In his sights are Dr Gillian McKeith(PhD), Professor Patrick Holford, Durham Education Services, Big Pharma, MRSA and the MMR Hoax. As he demolishes each one, the reader is given a primer on the scientific method and the use and abuse of statistics. If nothing else, the book is the answer to those people who complain that “I don’t know why we do half the stuff we do in maths at school. It’s no use.”

There’s no doubt that Goldacre is a highly intelligent man; sometimes his tone – both in his writing and on-screen – is slightly smug. But we should forgive him that – because he’s right.

I cannot recommend ‘Bad Science’ too highly. It’s fair, well researched and presents complexity with great clarity. At the risk of sounding like the blurb on a cheap self-help book, it will change the way you see the world: For the better.

Popularity: 38% [?]

So, you’ve built a very successful business. You’ve put heart and soul into it, burnt the midnight oil, taken risks, made sacrifices, reached your goals. You are now richer that Croesus and more famous than the Queen.

Next step? The business biography.

You interview some ‘co-writers’, select one you like, set to work and within a few months your draft is off to the printers. The promotional tour is arranged, the Richard & Judy session diarised, the launch party on your yacht is in hand. Then the publisher calls:

“What are we going to put on the front cover?”

Well obviously, it’s going to be a picture of you; after all, you are your brand. But you doing what? Sitting behind your desk; shaking on a deal; walking the golf course?

No; it’s going to be a portrait, direct into the camera. You’re going to connect with the reader. You’re a straight talking exec, so you’re going to look them straight in the eye.

All well and good. But the big question is still unanswered: what are you going to do with your hands?

Can’t decide? Then here’s the Business Bio Arms  Guide. Body language speaks volumes: chose carefully.

The Defensive Cross is the most popular option (see above, and many others in the genre), even though it makes you look like you may have something to hide – which, given the frank advice you’re offering, is somewhat counter-productive. Facial expression is important here. Too smiley, and it’ll look like you’re giving yourself a hug because you’re so wonderful. Too serious, and you’ll  look like a nightclub bouncer (but hey – you ‘mean business’). .

The Lean Iococca is only a safe choice at the end of your tenure. Hands linked at the back of your head, body angled back in your seat, shirt under-arms displayed for the world to see – this is a great pose if you’re running a dry cleaning business, but otherwise you’ll seem incredibly smug. Especially if the business that you personally saved is now dependent on multi-billion dollar government bail outs.

The Engaging Clasp. Don’t lean back, lean forward. Rest your forearms on your knees, and interlock your fingers. The readers will be interested in you because you are be interested in them. You are the warmer, softer, more human side of business. It doesn’t all have to be swearing and fighting. This is not a polemic; it’s the beginning of a dialogue.

The Cool Cut really only works if you’re in the fashion business. Look like you’ve spent too much time worrying about your appearance and you’ll look like you’ve spent too much time, well, worrying about your appearance. But that’s OK if you have fashion in your portfolio. Careful about that one-hand-in-the-pocket, though: for every person who sees you as nonchalant and debonair, there’ll be someone else thinking that you’re counting your change.

Shoulder the Blame. Only to be undertaken when all the skeletons are already out of the cupboard and it’s time to clean house. More a confessional than a self-celebration, it only works for those who can handle a little humility and are willing to be stand-up, admit mistakes, learn and move on. A paradox, this one. The least appealing look, but you probably have the most to teach.

The Supporting Hand(y). Not to be attempted if you do not have the time to listen to Thought for the Day, never mind to write one. Probably not suited to those still in the thick of things, or with anything left to prove. Can make you look like you’re listening to a conch shell, but that’s okay because it implies deep seated, at-one-with-the-world, wisdom. For the eminence gris only.

The Trump. Don’t even think about it.

Popularity: 13% [?]