You may have heard. Google has just launched a service called Google Print. Like Amazon, Google’s service allows people to search through books. Google announced at the Frankfurt Book Fair that are adding a lot of major publishers and they will be adding many titles. As with Amazon, there is a limit to how many pages you can view. And, at this stage anyway, it’s not possible to search the book database exclusively. I’ve found that the best way to get a Google Print result to show up is to type the word “book” and then whatever it is you’re searching for. It’ll be interesting to see if this develops further.
1. More than a few times, my father has waxed lyrical about my future appearance on David Letterman. "You'll tell him how your dear dad is your greatest influence." In this fantasy, I'm not an movie star, or even someone with a talented pet. I'm a novelist. "Dad," I say, "why would Letterman have me -- a writer -- on his show?" My father doesn't have an answer. He just shrugs, as if to say, Why not? My father also believes Oprah would take his call. And that he can hand-sell a thousand copies of my (as yet unpublished) novel to people who owe him favors. "Make it ten thousand," he says. "Show those numbers to your agent." Sure, Dad. Okay. But wait. If my father can make good on his promise, and actually sell a decent number of copies of my book -- over the phone, from the trunk of his car -- then why not do what so many other writers have done recently, and self-publish? In August, droves of self-published authors commented on my essay, "Shutting the Drawer: What Happens When a Book Doesn't Sell?" about the death of my first book. There was that clichéd rallying cry: "Traditional publishing is on its last legs," as well as cheerful exhortations for me to take matters into my own hands. E-publishing and print-on-demand, commenters assured me, has made D.I.Y. publishing affordable and easy. After receiving all this feedback, I decided to talk with a few self-published authors to find out why they went that route, and what its benefits and drawbacks have been. I first corresponded with two of my high school English teachers who have used CreateSpace, Amazon's self-publishing wing. Daniel D. Victor self-published his novel A Study in Synchronicity after he'd queried agents for some time without success. Victor has already published one novel; in 1992, St. Martin's put out The Seventh Bullet, which was recently re-released in England by Titan Books. Both of Victor's novels are inspired by the work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle; the former is a "Sherlock Holmes pastiche" while the new one intertwines a Victorian-era whodunit with a modern-day mystery -- it's a clever tale of fiction-coming-to-life. Victor told me he's been very happy with CreateSpace, both in the process and the results. "People have told me how great my book looks, how professional. And the procedures, once I got the hang of them, were straightforward." When I asked him about readers' response, he said, "People have been very receptive and complimentary. Of course, most all of the books have been bought by people I know. What else would I expect them to say?" Victor's colleague and friend, Barry Smolin, has self-published two manuscripts: Wake Up in the Dream House, an image-driven book of prose, and Always Be Madly in Love, a poetry collection. Aside from teaching high school, Smolin hosts a radio show on KPFK and makes music under the moniker Mr. Smolin. After self-producing albums for so long, self-publishing made sense. He didn't even attempt the traditional route. Like Victor, he found CreateSpace user-friendly. (Or, in Smolin-parlance: "I ended up digging it.") When I asked how readers had responded, he said he hasn't received any feedback. "But, then again," he added, "I didn't publish them for feedback." Smolin later sent me a second email, in which he described his life as an artist: I... have spent the last 35 years making art (music, poetry, fiction) that absolutely nobody cares about. For whatever reason, it just doesn't resonate with folks. It saddened me more when I was younger; now I just accept it. That reality has had no effect on my creative output whatsoever. I can't stop doing it. It's just a burning need in me. It's who I am. I am an artist even if nobody else on earth thinks so. I'd be miserable if I was not sitting down each night to write or make music. So, I've learned to create without the need for any kind of audience. It has just been a survival mechanism I guess. I can't NOT write, I can't NOT compose and record music, but I also can't just create all this stuff 24/7 and stick it in a drawer... I like knowing it's "out there" whatever that means, that it's in the cosmos and available to be received if any are interested. It's an intriguing contradiction: the desire to publish a book without an expectation for readers. Neither Victor nor Smolin seemed to anticipate an audience when they decided to self-publish -- at least not a large one. Unlike many other self-published authors, they haven't been tirelessly (some might even say obnoxiously) promoting their work. And yet, both Victor and Smolin maintain a hope for readership. In this regard, self-publishing provides the manuscript with a liminal existence -- it's technically available to the world, even if hardly anyone in the world is aware of it. There is potential, and that's what matters. Neither of my former-teachers approached the topic of self-publishing from the perspective of platform-building or money-earning, as I've seen other self-published writers do. They were both quite noble about the process, actually, and their quiet belief in their own work made me want to read their books. I realized, talking to them, that self-publishing provided a conclusion to their artistic projects. Victor and Smolin are writing other books now; their previous ones have been brought to the world, and are thus finished. 2. Okay, I'm just going to go ahead and say it: At this point in time, self-publishing lacks the cool factor. It's... dorky. Go ahead, call me a snob (check), call me the mean girl (check). You can also call me someone who loves a well-made, beautifully designed book that makes me shiver with desire. To me, a good-looking book implies an understanding of the marketplace and how to maneuver within it. Most (though not all) self-published novels look, well, self-published. I've met enough self-published authors at festivals and conferences to know most of them aren't doing things right. Don't wear a baggy T-shirt with the cover of your book screen-printed across the chest. Don't wear a cape made of crushed velvet. Don't refer to your "fiction-novel." And don't pay some questionable publicity company to spam staff writers of The Millions with press releases. There are, of course, self-published authors who actively market themselves, and do it well. Two of my peers -- Los Angeles-based writer Matthew Allard, and my former classmate at Iowa, Jason Lewis -- have both published their own fiction, and made it seem hip to do so. I've actually never met Allard; he and I are friends on Tumblr, where he maintains a thoughtful and amusing blog. Last year, he self-published a collection of short stories, To Slow Down the Time, illustrated by the artist Ian Dingman. Allard produced two versions of the book: a limited edition hand-bound hardcover, and a print-on-demand paperback (published by CreateSpace), and made them both available for pre-order. The limited edition sold out in a week, and these sales financed the production costs. "To be honest, we had profit immediately," Allard told me. "I didn't make enough money to quit my day job, but I made more than drinking money. I used some of my money to buy a nice new MacBook Pro (to write another book with). I was very surprised." I own the paperback version of Allard's book, and it's lovely. Many a visitor has picked it up and asked me about it, which proves that you don't need the letters FSG on your book's spine to woo a reader. Allard did not submit To Slow Down the Time to agents and traditional publishers. "I am impatient," he said, "and I liked the idea of turning it around and of having full control over our project." He will most likely self-publish a second collection of stories, which are notoriously difficult to sell these days. Again, he mentioned the swift turn-around time between finishing the manuscript, and presenting it to readers. Clearly, this aspect of self-publishing is seductive: readers get your work while you're still passionate about it. After meeting a handful of writers who can't stand their books by the time they're released, I can understand the appeal of a faster timeline. However, I worry what that acceleration might do to my own work. For instance, there's a difference between this blog post and the novel I'm writing now, and that difference is time: to ponder, to revise, and to receive feedback. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. When I asked Allard about his self-publishing experience, he said: I learned that this is absolutely a viable option for intrepid, Internet-savvy authors. Self-publishing levels the playing field a bit. There is certainly not the same kind of cachet attached to self-publishing as the traditional route. Maybe there's no pleasure of saying, "Random House is publishing my book in the fall," but self-publishing does offer the same quality product (providing your product is quality to begin with) and you get to be in charge. The absence of a marketing budget is the other drawback. You made a book! It's real! Getting it into readers' hands is a whole other ballgame. In my case, I was lucky to have amassed a decent Internet following that was interested in what I was working on. Self-publishing is simply cutting a corner and taking charge of your work from start to finish. You don't have to sit around waiting for a publisher or agent to notice you and believe in your project. If you believe in it, you can make it. There's less glamour or paycheck attached, though. I'm struck by how clear-eyed Allard is about the process. He understood self-publishing's limitations, and the work required of him to render the book a success. He'll be in fine shape if he sells a book to a publishing house down the line. The publicity budget for a traditional published book usually isn't huge, and nowadays the writer is expected not only to be an artist, but also a talented promoter of that art. Allard already knows how to tap-dance for his dinner, and to do it gracefully. Like Allard, Jason Lewis has published an atypical book. His novel, The Fourteenth Colony, comes with an album of songs written from the perspective of John Martin, the book's main character, a musician who returns to his hometown in West Virginia to try to put his life back together. Lewis wrote and produced all the music, and funded the project via Kickstarter. As with Allard's, Lewis's book was financed by readers, and he has a guarantee of an audience, however modest, by the time the book goes to press this month. Any copies he sells on top of this will be profit. This is in contrast to the traditional publishing model which puts money up front in the form of an advance, and sets about building an audience for a work that's already created. It's not hard to see which model offers greater risk. Lewis used to have an agent, but she left the business a few years ago, and he had trouble finding representation for The Fourteenth Colony. He began writing new work as he sent out the manuscript to agencies, but he couldn't get his first novel out of his head. "In another era, that might just have been the itch I couldn't scratch while I moved on," he said. "But in this era, indie publishing has really very quickly become a viable option." Notice that Lewis uses the phrase "indie publishing" -- a smart move, in this fraught moment in books. Although Lewis has enjoyed the outpouring of support from family and friends, and from strangers who are simply enthusiastic about his unique project, he admits, "It would still be great to have someone else to take care of a lot of what I'm doing for myself." Allard, too, envisions publishing a novel traditionally some day. "For me and my career as an author, it is a goal to have a publisher take interest in my work and back it. There is a different sense of accomplishment in selling a book that way, obviously. I want that." This intrigued me, though I wasn't surprised. Even writers who self-publish well, who successfully produce books that don't fit into the publishing industry's rubric of what's marketable, let alone categorizable, still want entrance into the established world they initially turned away from. If only for assistance with production. If only to say, "My book's for sale on the front table at Barnes and Noble." Even in 2011 that value can't be denied. 3. For some self-published authors, the traditional industry may be dying, superfluous to their needs and success as authors. But many of the self-published authors who commented on my initial essay suggested that I publish my own book as a means to get the industry's attention. They seem to be saying: Screw the industry... that is, until they recognize my genius! Matthew Allard self-published a book that probably couldn't have been produced by a large house, but the story of that book, and the attention it's received, could no doubt help him get representation and sell another book down the road. Daniel D. Victor might amass a following for his second novel, proving to those gun-shy agents that his subject matter is indeed of interest to a wide readership. In my estimate, self-publishing won't replace traditional publishing, but it might supplement and influence it. There's another trajectory for an author's success; alongside the debut novelist who's an MFA graduate with publishing credits in The Missouri Review and Your Mom's Journal, there's the writer who proved herself with self-publishing and now has a book deal with Random House. But to think every self-published author makes it big is as foolish as thinking every MFA grad does. In a recent New York Times article, Amazon executive Russell Grandinetti said, "The only really necessary people in the publishing process now are the writer and reader. Everyone who stands between those two has both risk and opportunity.” It's a good point. Self-publishers essentially cut out the middle man (except, of course, outfits like Amazon...), and in shouldering the burdens of editing, design, publicity, and so on, they stand to reap all the benefits of that work. It's how Amanda Hocking made her millions. It's also how many, many other self-published writers spent a lot of time (if not money) putting out a book that no one bought. With my first novel, I suffered rejection from editors. The writer who self-publishes sidesteps that rejection, only to face possible rejection in the form of readers' silence. If you self-publish a book and it doesn't do as well as you'd hoped, does it hurt your chances to sell a novel to a traditional publisher in the future? Maybe in an industry that's changing so rapidly, it's too early to answer that question. Talking to these self-published writers certainly opened my eyes to the various reasons why one might try it, and how gratifying it can be. These are writers I admire; how their books came to me doesn't matter. That was an important lesson for me to learn. Even so, I'm not running to the press with my first book. In a second essay, I'll further explore why not. I'll also examine what self-publishing means for readers, and what traditionally published authors think of all these D.I.Y. developments.
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It was a battle between an evangelizing visionary and a sage defender of the past, perhaps the first big tussle in the great sorting out of publishing's new look in the digital age.This was 2006, when Wired Magazine technology evangelist Kevin Kelly wrote about the helter skelter future of books in the digital age. In the New York Times Magazine, Kelly looked at then still nascent book scanning efforts, and extrapolated a future that sent a shiver through writers, editors, publishers, and many readers:Turning inked letters into electronic dots that can be read on a screen is simply the first essential step in creating this new library. The real magic will come in the second act, as each word in each book is cross-linked, clustered, cited, extracted, indexed, analyzed, annotated, remixed, reassembled and woven deeper into the culture than ever before. In the new world of books, every bit informs another; every page reads all the other pages.Later he added:[Authors] can sell performances, access to the creator, personalization, add-on information, the scarcity of attention (via ads), sponsorship, periodic subscriptions - in short, all the many values that cannot be copied. The cheap copy becomes the "discovery tool" that markets these other intangible valuables.At the annual Book Expo, keynote speaker John Updike responded, heaping scorn: The economic repercussions of this paradise of freely flowing snippets are touched on with a beguiling offhandedness, as a matter of course, a matter of an inexorable Marxist unfolding.Everyone reveled in the literary throwdown at the time (Gawker called it a Crossover Nerdfight). There was no "winner," however, and neither Kelly nor Updike was proven right, but there are some interesting new developments to contemplate.When Kelly wrote of "remixed" books, many were aghast, envisioning zombified, soulless collages, based on the desecrated works that had been co-opted for profit. They may have been right about the zombie part: At least one book remix has caused quite a stir this year. According to Publishers Weekly, there are "more than 600,000 copies in print of... Jane Austen mashup, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies." A graphic novel version is in the works, as is a sequel, Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters. Even though this recent example looms large, when you start thinking about it there is a rich history of literary remixes. At the Vromans Bookstore Blog, Patrick Brown recently compiled a thorough exploration of the topic in response to J.D. Salinger's lawsuit over an unauthorized sequel to his novel The Catcher in the Rye. Though that remix is not looking particularly auspicious, Patrick notes the many venerable and successful remixes that have come before it, from James Joyce's Ulysses to Gregory Maguire's Wicked to a pair of recent books by Maile Meloy. Brown doesn't mention it, but you can even go all the way back to the "first" novel, and look at Don Quixote's second part as an inspired calling out of unauthorized "copycat" versions of the book. It's entirely plausible to make the case that literary history is in many ways a history of literary "remixes," and, as Kelly has suggested, current, ever-stricter copyright regimes are an artificial impediment to this free flow of ideas.Returning to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, silly as it may be, one wonders if the book's success doesn't prove there is an appetite - in our heavily remixed, mashed up culture - for freer rein to be afforded writers who want to experiment in this vein. It's also clear that the public domain offers an unending font of material for those inclined to use it (for a more highbrow example, think of the relationship between Tom Stoppard and Shakespeare). Meanwhile, the Salinger case would seem to indicate that when it comes to books under copyright and the cross-linking, clustering, and reassembling that Kelly prophesied, we are still very much at the whim of the copyright holder.Kelly's other point - that of a new business model for writers that relies not on selling the book but on using the book to sell "access" to the writer, has been taken up enthusiastically by another Wired guy, Chris Anderson, who has written an entire book on this topic, Free. Anderson is "selling" (read: giving away) the book under this model and his ideas have caused media types quite a bit of heartburn.Interestingly, the backlash to Anderson's book seems to be resonating (to me, anyway) much more than the book itself. The unfortunate revelation that Anderson had lifted substantial passages for the book from Wikipedia suggests that in a world where writers don't get paid for writing and information wants to be free, the writing itself is almost beside the point as compared to the ancillary, profit-making schemes that can surround the "author as brand" idea. This criticism would only seem to be confirmed by Anderson's explanation that there was an oversight in citing the copied passages properly.With a new novel coming soon from our greatest literary recluse, I wonder too whether a flourishing of the idea that authors make money from selling "access" and not books would mean that we could never have another Pynchon or McCarthy or DeLillo whose works alone tower above any notion that they might experiment with alternative revenue models.In the end, there are some elements out of the Kelly/Anderson view of the future of publishing that remain compelling. The remixed book is an important idea that need not be villainized or trivialized, particularly as digitization provides new opportunities for experimentation. The notion of "free," meanwhile, seems far more potentially damaging in that whole swathes of literary culture are not particularly compatible with the "authors selling access" model. However, if you believe that good writing is always worth something to somebody, you don't have much to worry about.
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Last week, HarperCollins unveiled its new online strategy, which centers on Amazon-like "Browse Inside" functionality, while also pushing new ways of promoting books and authors online. The New York Times wrote up the new initiative. "Browse Inside" allows visitors to "flip through" books on HarperCollins' Web site, using an interface similar to the Amazon Online Reader (profiled here) and Google Book Search, though without any notable bells and whistles. With "Browse Inside," HarperCollins' goal seems to be to let readers get a real look at its books, while also controlling the environment.This is not, however, an answer to Google Book Search, as HarperCollins implied it would be when it first went down this path at the end of last year. A New York Times article at the time had HarperCollins CEO, Jane Friedman saying, "Rather than give copies of books to search services like Google for those companies to scan as it currently does, HarperCollins would keep the material on its own computers, and users would be pointed there by the search engine."As I wrote at the time, by going this route, HarperCollins builds its own little island, separate from an aggregator like Google Book Search and it encourages other publishers to do the same. The power of something like Google Book Search is that it puts all book content in one place and enables people to search the world of books. HarperCollins claim that its content would be just as accessible via the main Google search engine, while not being as simple as it sounds, is sort of a moot point. It's like HarperCollins has decided to scatter its books haphazardly around a Wal-Mart rather than putting them in the local library with rest of the books.It's laudable that HarperCollins, perhaps prodded by its MySpace-owning parent News Corp, is dipping its toe in the digital waters, and stepping up its efforts to use the Internet to promote and sell books. But Google's initiative is a separate effort altogether that would neither infringe upon HarperCollins' strategy nor lead to piracy of any sort.For more, here are a few of my many posts on the topic: The publishers' big blunder, More Google Book hysteria, and Richard Nash of Soft Skull on Google Print
The rustle of textbook pages turning, the hasty unzipping of oversized book bags hardly disrupts this venue’s overflowing intellectual energy. The pounding clatter of fingers pressed against greasy laptop keyboards – a soothing symphony to knowledge, it seems – fills the second-floor air, redolent of fresh Starbucks coffee. College students donning the ubiquitous ‘H’ logo, tourists doing likewise, a few bums clad in sweatpants, and the other denizens of Cambridge flock here, traveling up the cascading staircase past the stack of Malcolm Gladwell books to check out all three floors of the establishment. It is June 2009 and I take my place among the overstressed, sleepless, and nascent literati at the Harvard Coop, a popular bookstore just outside the campus of one of the nation's most prestigious universities. School is never out here. A seventeen-year-old high school student, I wasn't researching a thesis. However, I had enrolled in two creative writing classes for the summer and desperately needed to begin on my final project: a piece of creative non-fiction of up to fifteen pages. Hours had flown by in my dorm room in Harvard Yard’s Thayer Hall without progress. Instead, I had voraciously consumed my eclectic – and completely electronic – literary diet of news, soccer blogs, and The New Yorker online. Reading was, and still is, my favorite tool of procrastination – and how easy it is thanks to the Internet! I am loathe to brand my online perusing a “waste” of time – in fact, I’ve probably learned more about writing this way than I have in school – but, for all the putative benefits of this side-reading, it gets me off track. Fast. I’m not alone though. According to a new Kaiser Family Foundation study, kids ages 8-18 spend over seven and a half hours a day glued to computers, cell phones, televisions, or other electronic media. What is more, the authors of the study note that today’s youth actually get 10 hours and 45 minutes worth of media content through multitasking. Any teenager will tell you this isn’t remotely surprising – and, for me, it instantly recalls the image of my friends instinctively whipping out their cell phones to furiously text, even during a conversation or while watching TV. Still, I’m a bit of an outlier. According to the study, only one in ten young people reported reading newspapers or magazines online; for those who did read online, the average time spent on this activity was a mere 21 minutes. It’s just so easy to get immersed in a piece. A mere click on my IBM laptop opens up the Chrome browser, and from there, the stories, videos, and links tantalize me thanks to the myriad gadgets on my iGoogle page. I really want to finish writing the overture, the introduction to my piece – but what if Nick Kristof posts a new blog entry, what if that famous soccer player tweets me back, or what if someone wrote on my Facebook wall? I can’t resist. It takes less than a second, so I just hit the “F” key and “Enter” to check the ubiquitous social-networking site once more. Three notifications. But I had to get my assignment done: a four to fifteen page piece for my creative nonfiction class. And as they say, desperate times...call for one to cut off the Internet. So I planted myself firming at the place with the spottiest wireless reception on campus: The Harvard Coop bookstore. There, I thought, I could focus, motivated by a collegiate atmosphere teeming with brilliance, students tapping away at their literary masterpieces on pearl white Macbooks or furiously scribbling proofs of theorems belonging to esoteric branches of mathematics. Buoyed by my change of milieu (and lack of Internet), I sat, ordered a coffee, wrote – and actually got several pages done in a few hours. But never at the Coop did I realize the obvious irony of my situation. A student, who procrastinates by reading (of all things), must hole himself up at none other than a bookstore… in order to do his work and stop reading. Perfect sense, right? It was my professor who had to point this irony out to me as we conferenced over the writing process and the piece. My myopia speaks to the differences between my peer group (dubbed Gen M^2 by the Kaiser Family Foundation study) and those only just slightly older. Despite the fact that I had, on many occasions, spent several hours reading books off the shelves at the Coop, I paradoxically saw it, a comprehensive bookstore, as the only place where I would not succumb to my proclivity for procrastination – the only place where I would not read. In hindsight, it seems that Harvard’s cavernous Widener library would be the only place more inane for me to go at the time. But why didn’t I realize my folly? Perhaps it’s just the incipient laziness of my generation. Reading something online – a blog post, a news story, a feature article – is downright quicker than pulling out a book. You can scan, highlight – and if you lose interest – move on to another work in a matter of seconds. While this raises the question of whether “reading” online is tantamount to just leafing and scanning through a print copy, it’s efficient and easy. And with high-speed Internet essentially universal, I see no logical reason to physically use a book when everything is more conveniently online, on a screen. In fact, I could have theoretically completed all of my assigned readings for my two classes using the Internet in lieu of in my expensive textbooks; in many cases, I still did that regardless of the fact that I had bought the book. My peers would likely do the same; the Kaiser study reveals that the only media activity that actually failed to increase among young people over the past ten years is traditional print media. Indeed, the study indicates a roughly 25% drop in print newspaper and magazine readership since 1999. Why? The answer lies in said convenience, as well as the Internet-saturated, online-only culture in which I have grown up. Mine is the generation of the Kindle – er, iPad. Apart from the little remaining sentiment felt for the hard copy, we are inexorably moving entirely online. And as for those last remnants of nostalgia, our inherent resistance to change? They are the life support to which current print media clings. The problem is, sooner rather than later, the support will wither, wane, and expire as the online revolution – one which I experienced on a Cambridge summer day at the Coop, one which lives each time a teen types a text message – tweets on.
Google Books has just unveiled a set of new features that should appeal both to digital bibliophiles and the academically minded.In my opinion, the coolest new feature is one called "popular passages." This feature does two very useful things. First, it cross-indexes and links books to relevant subject matter. So, when you run across a quote from Plato in the course of the reading, once click will take you straight to the relevant passage in The Republic. What may be even cooler, though, is that it tells readers how often and in what books a certain passage or quotation has occurred. Thus, one can, if so inclined, trace the intellectual heritage of an idea, or even a specific quote through the many books maintained in Google's library.Other features include the ability to create and share personal libraries and to take direct quotes from public domain books and add them to web paged and blogs. All in all, good stuff that any avid reader (and commentator) should find handy.
Paidcontent.com pointed out that the New Yorker has unveiled a new digital edition of the magazine. It's basically a replica of the magazine -- ads, cartoons, and everything -- that you can "page through" using a special interface. This is pretty nifty and probably useful for New Yorker obsessives who want to get the full New Yorker experience at work without having the magazine in plain view, but what's really cool is that if you sign up, you get every issue going all the way back to 1925 in this format. In addition, you get the digital edition first thing on Monday, so you don't have to wait until Wednesday or Thursday for the magazine to show up in the mail.Subscribers can set it up here. It's a little confusing. Once you've logged in, there's a link at the lower right to activate the digital edition site. You need to go through a couple more prompts (they email you a password) and then you have full access. Non-subscribers can try it out free for four weeks here.
Remember the fear that Google would start a print on demand business and put all the publishers out of business? Well, Google appears to be getting into the bookselling business, but there's no printing involved, nor are they cutting out publishers. Google's new service will allow publishers to set their own price for online access to books. Readers won't be able to save copies of the books on their computers nor will they be able to copy text from the books, and the books will only be viewable within the browser window. This looks like a great opportunity for publishers to provide online access to their books without having to set up their own systems. (via)Update: Some good comments on this at Booksquare.