The Future of Book Coverage, Part I: R.I.P., NYT?

April 22, 2009 | 9 books mentioned 11 11 min read

This week at The Millions, we’re attempting to gather some of our thoughts about the ongoing transformation of literary journalism. Today, Garth looks at the death of the newspaper book section. Tomorrow, Max considers revenue options for literary websites, including affiliation with online booksellers. And on Friday, Max will hazard some early guesses about the next possible upheaval in the economy of literary journalism: the e-book.

The spring of 2007 now seems like a lifetime ago. A promising U.S. senator named Clinton was a prohibitive favorite in the Democratic presidential primaries. The Dow-Jones Industrial Average stood just over 13,000 points. And, in light of this last number, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution’s decision to stop publishing its weekly book review supplement seemed like some kind of weird aberration. In the best little-“d” democratic tradition, the National Book Critics Circle decided to protest the AJC’s move via a “Campaign to Save Book Reviewing.” The weapons it selected for this campaign – a petition and a series of panel discussions – may have appeared quixotic, but during a weeklong symposium in the fall, its basic premises became clear:

  • 1) The stand-alone newspaper book review is vital to the health of literacy, and thus democracy.
  • 2) The corporate overlords of the newspaper industry undervalue all three.
  • 3) Newspaper book coverage is in imminent danger.
  • 4) Therefore, so are literacy and democracy.

It should be added that, by the time of the symposium, obsequies over the loss of column-inches for book coverage had shaded into alarm about proliferating book coverage on the Internet. We at The Millions, who attended several of these panels, bit our tongues. Despite our lowly station as bloggers, we looked upon the participants as colleagues. And we didn’t want to prove media pundits right by rushing to judgment; after all, our material interest in the print vs. online debate may have colored our thinking. Now, though, we can say with some confidence (and some disappointment) that, by its own lights, the “Campaign to Save Book Reviewing” was a failure.

In the last two years, stand-alone book review supplements including several of the country’s most prominent (The Washington Post Book World, The Los Angeles Times Book Review) have ceased publication. The parent newspapers insist that the lost review space has been offset by increases in coverage in other sections, but frankly, we don’t believe them. If the health of book reviewing is to be judged by what happens in the print editions of newspapers, the patient is doomed.

One need not detail at this late date the basic economic mechanisms that have led us to this pass. We may merely condense them to an easily graspable equation: growing number of books + dwindling time to read – advertising revenue + market meltdown = flawed business model. And yet, the Death of Book Reviewing narrative – a boom-era tale in which the high priests of print defend literature against both corporate bad guys and the vulgarians of the Internet – elides several contentious, and important, questions. To wit:

  • How good were the newspaper book review sections, anyway?
  • How inevitable was their demise?
  • How did those in power respond to the digital revolution – surely the biggest upheaval in the distribution of the written word since Gutenberg?
  • Does the Internet really spell doom for literary discourse?

By way of investigating these questions, we might consider the evolution – and fate – of book coverage at the nation’s most widely read print reviewing organ: The New York Times. For book reviewers, as for the larger (and equally endangered) world of newspaper journalism, the Paper of Record already serves as a sort of metonym. To paraphrase E.B. White, If The New York Times were to go, all would go. And so an analysis of the Times’ assets and liabilities, and of its response to upheavals in technology and the economy, will likely have something to tell us about the future of book coverage – and perhaps media – as a whole.

First, there is the begged question of the quality of newspaper book reviews. Almost since its inception (lo, these several years ago), the literary blogosphere has been asking this question of the Times, in particular. However, perhaps because bloggers’ animus toward the Times has been too easy to grasp or to dismiss (depending on one’s point of view) the attacks have had little effect on how the Gray Lady goes about her business. Devotees of the weekly New York Times Book Review and/or the daily “Books of the Times” column can write off Ed Champion’s efforts to save the NYTBR from its editor, Sam Tanenhaus, or Tao Lin‘s concise “Michiko Kakutani, Fuck You” (published in an online magazine Juked, but representative of web-wide sentiment) as products of ressentiment.

Meanwhile, from the vantage point of bloggers, whose reputations are only as strong as their most recent posts, the Times‘ authority appears, if not unearned, then largely heredity. Somewhere in mists of our pre-digital past, writers and editors worked to make the Paper of Record the first and last word on the U.S. book market (a favorable blurb from the Times, when available, will generally be the most prominent on a paperback jacket), but the enterprise has been coasting on its reputation ever since.

In defense of the blogs: the Times offers fodder for criticism on a schedule you can set your watch by. An edition of the NYTBR may contain a half-dozen or more of the sort of synoptic non-reviews that fail to interest the uninterested, while giving incautious or hurried readers the impression of an endorsement. Ledes of the “If writers were candy, writer X would be Smarties” variety proliferate. And though Michiko and Maslin, the Punch and Judy of the daily “Books of the Times” column, sometimes rise above their good cop/bad cop routine (see, e.g. Kakutani’s recent review of Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned), they seem, in the main, to shoot first and ask questions later. (We will pass over in silence the tendency of the respective editors of “Books of the Times” and the NYTBR to split the difference: the frequency with which a weekday hatchet job will set up a B+ review on Sunday, or vice versa.)

covercoverNor are bloggers the first writers to find the Times‘s book coverage lacking in luster, or representative of newspaper book reviewing as a whole. The origin story of The New York Review of Books, America’s preeminent literary-critical publication, dates back to the 1963 printers’ strike, when Robert Silvers and Barbara Epstein realized that they didn’t miss one jot or tittle of the Times’ book coverage. They set out to create a literary supplement that would be missed were it ever to fold, and succeeded brilliantly. Around the same time, Jack Green published Fire The Bastards!, an account of the reception of William Gaddis’ The Recognitions. Bloggy avant la lettre, Fire the Bastards! amounts to a catalogue of the ills of reviewing in general (as does, come to think of it, Balzac’s Lost Illusions), but Green singles out the Times for special derision: “the worst bookreview [sic] section in the world,” he calls it.

On the other hand, it must be said, the mission of the Times differs from the mission of a literary blog, or even of The New York Review. The latter venues address smaller audiences, and so can afford parochialism, partisanship… and passion. The Gray Lady’s authority, by contrast, derives in no small part from its commitment to subjecting the broadest possible sample of new books to an objective gaze, or at least to give the illusion of doing so. Reviews of romances, memoirs, and political tracts sit cheek by jowl with reviews of midlist literary fiction. (One can imagine La Kakutani opening an envelope to discover yet another debut novel, and despairing. One can imagine, sometimes, La Kakutani deciding that she hates books.)

It likewise bears saying that, within the parameters of its mission, The NYTBR and “Books of the Times” do certain things quite well. The front-page NYTBR reviews, with their more generous length and more engaged writers, often succeed in being thoughtful as well as comprehensive. (See, e.g. David Leavitt on Henry James). The back-of-the-book essay often succeeds at diagnosing some tendency within our literary culture. The bestseller lists and their appendages offer an index to what’s going on in the culture at large. And, in “Books of the Times,” Dwight Garner and Richard Eder have been known to tackle books far from the beaten path – even books of poetry.

But when some recent research sent me to the late John Leonard’s 1981 review of Rabbit is Rich (one last mark in The Times’ favor: vast archives), it seemed, in comparison with today’s offerings, an 800-word masterpiece: stylish, contentious, erudite, risky:

Huck Finn, after all, didn’t have to grow up. Ishmael, lest we forget, came back too. Rabbit has to compromise. “Outward motion” can mean “inner dwindling.” Freedom hurts. Only in Toyota commercials do we rise and hang suspended; the Flying Eagle sinks. After the death of God – after the chilling discovery that every time we make a move toward “the invisible,” somebody gets killed – we require a myth of community, something, as Felix put it in Coup [sic] that “fits the facts, as it were, backwards.”

Held up against the current offerings at the Times‘ “Books” page, it is also an index of how far we have fallen. Implicit in the “Campaign to Save Book Reviewing” is the notion that newspapers set an unimpeachable standard; that some ineffable quality would be lost were “the largest remaining stand-alone Sunday tabloid section” to surrender the field of literary journalism to magazines and the web. But even if we’re willing to accept, pace Green and Balzac, the campaign’s more explicit premise – that book reviewing is vital to the health of literacy and/or democracy – the conceit that newspaper book coverage is indispensable appears to be just that: a conceit.

Meanwhile, the hypotheses about “Grub Street 2.0” tendered at the NBCC panels have proven testable faster than anyone could have imagined. As dramatic as the loss of print book review supplements has been in the last two years, the transformation of online reviewing culture has been more so. Even more surprising: the direction of the change has largely been positive.

To be sure, mind-bogglingly vast plains of chaff are still only a keystroke away; someone is always willing to shit on Dante!, as N+1 put it, in its dismissal of the literary blogosphere. Yet the more venerable lit-blogs – some of them, anyway – have consolidated their reputations as critical organs. Newspapers have even launched their own competing blogs (Dwight Garner’s Papercuts and Carolyn Kellogg’s Jacket Copy deserve special mention.) And beyond the constraints of the blog, venues as multifarious as Open Letters Monthly, The Quarterly Conversation, Bookslut, and, in the last two months, N1BR, The Second Pass, and The Rumpus have mobilized resources of design and prose that frequently surpass what is to be found in newspapers. Web magazines such as Slate and Salon continue to offer inventive and high-quality book coverage.

Even more consequentially, in an era of rising unemployment, the economics of reviewing have shifted radically. For years, a good, professional newspaper book review was worth about $400, or 50 cents a word. Now, even as the number of column-inches available in print diminishes, online venues are starting to meet or exceed that threshold. Rumor has it that The Barnes & Noble Review pays nine times as much as a reputable newspaper for which one of our contributors has reviewed. In early 2007, other critics might have leaped to review for that newspaper; now it recommends itself mostly as a nice line in the bio. Even ad-supported blogs (like this one) are forcing freelancers to rethink their strategy. Although the per-word pay rate of such blogs will likely never match, say, Slate, the number of words available is, theoretically, unlimited. Prolific bloggers, by writing four reviews a month rather than two, quickly compensate for the loss of income from book review sections.

This is not to mention the less fungible forms of remuneration. As has been widely noted, one of the hidden pleasures of publishing work online is the ability to hear responses from readers, and sometimes to engage in debate. Reviewing online feels like a lively thing, where the Sunday newspaper supplements sometimes read, as a colleague put it, as the place “where book reviews go to die.”

coverThe nexus of advertising and contentiousness and minimal editorial supervision raises important questions about standards, as partisans of print are quick to point out. Transparency is, at best, a vexed question on the Internet. What is to stop a blog that profits from Amazon links from promoting books it doesn’t believe in? Yet, at its best, there is a self-policing quality to the maintenance of online authority that has, for better or worse, begun to professionalize the blogs. Comparing the relative performance of newspapers and the web in assessing a couple of the most challenging books of recent vintage, 2666 and The Kindly Ones, we discover a leveled playing field. And as readers increasingly take their news online anyway, such a comparison becomes the work of a few seconds. (Some of the best coverage, of course, was to be found in print magazines such as The Nation and The New York Review, whose role in the reviewing ecology I won’t attempt to assess.)

Under these circumstances, the fate of our last freestanding weekly book review supplement would appear to be in doubt. With readers and reviewers jumping ship, publishers are the only ones left with a compelling interest in its continued existence. (Who else will supply that big blurb? Who else will, if nothing else, announce to the masses that a book exists?) And in a conglomerated publishing industry, the shortsightedness of upper management has tended to trump long-term interests; one can reasonably expect that publishers will continue to shell out less and less money for the advertisements that support the NYTBR. (Such is the logic of capitalism. An enterprise trims away the nonessential until it becomes, itself, inessential.) Given the stakes – and the broad array of tools available in the digital age – what has the Times done to ensure its longevity? More importantly, what should it do?

As with newspapers in general, the books editors at the Times and elsewhere have attempted to meet the challenges of the age from within the proverbial box. That box can be imagined as a collection of rigid lines: between print and online, between daily and weekly, between blog and non-blog, between delivery platforms, between backlist and frontlist, and even between one newspaper and another. Any media theorist worth her salt will tell you that these superficial distinctions matter less and less as time goes by, yet the main Times “Books” page is, at present, an orthogonal warren of content subdivisions: news, Sunday Book Review, “Books of the Times,” Papercuts… (I know we don’t really have a web-design leg to stand on here at The Millions, but still.)

As a first principle, the Times‘ books editors should accept that their book coverage, in the future, will be consumed largely online. This may seem like a downer, but in fact it opens up the section to previously unavailable advertising revenue. The print section may be sustained by book ads, but online, NYTBR can theoretically learn much more about its readers, and can pitch space to advertisers beyond the world of publishing. And, almost immediately, the editorial distinction between the weekly and daily book coverage begins to look both redundant and counterintuitive, in that it creates a weekly rather than a daily traffic pattern for the Books page. The Times might profitably subsume all of its coverage, from every section, under the NYTBR umbrella.

Such a re-branding, we can imagine, might shake up the currently moribund tabloid-supplement format. Rather than a predictable weekly slog through fifteen reviews in a peripheral grid of book-chat, a web-driven NYTBR might lead, for example, with Wyatt Mason’s terrific Times magazine profile of Frederick Seidel, or with an article on AIA Guide guru Norval White. It was refreshing, recently, to see Bret Anthony Johnston reviewing the new Cheever biography… on a Friday! A weekday review by someone other than Kakutani or Maslin signals urgency, rather than obligation. Why not do something similar with Jonathan Lethem’s 2666 review, or David Gates’ take on The Kindly Ones, and give poor Michiko a break?

Nor should video and audio content and blogs be tucked away like ugly stepchildren. Instead, they should be treated with the same editorial rigor and attention to quality that any other content is… and should be accorded the same dignity. Mark Sarvas of The Elegant Variation has offered this advice before, persuasively. Nextbook would be an example of a site that puts it into action.

coverAnother, related, refinement might be (counterintuitively), for the NYTBR to review less. As Scott Esposito has noted, The New Yorker’s decision to dispatch with the two aforementioned doorstoppers in short capsule reviews was its own kind of critical gesture; one that redounded to the authority of the publication. To eliminate the daily/weekly divide is to eliminate redundancies. Readers expect The Times to cover Jonathan Littell… but two take-downs is one too many, and axing the second review might give the Times room to surprise us with a long treatment of a less-hyped book.

There is also an opportunity for the NYTBR to fulfill one of the most valued functions of an online book site: to aggregate. Readers are still waiting for the must-read site that will authoritatively collect the best writing about books from across the Internet – a kind of quantum version of The Complete Review. The job is still open, but won’t be much longer, and the NYTBR, with its resources of time and personnel, should jump in.

Finally, no reimagining of the NYTBR will succeed without more rigorous attention to the quality of the writing. With its privileging of print, the NYTBR has tended to assign books to authors rather than to critics; if the NBCC is to be believed, however, there’s now a great untapped pool of the latter out there, just waiting for the next call to arms.

These are by no means the only solutions to the dwindling potency of newspaper-based book reviewing. They may not even be the best. However, they represent a willingness to reimagine the enterprise that papers have thus far resisted. Barring such efforts, newspaper book coverage will doom itself to failure, on one hand, or irrelevance, on the other; the loss of the NYTBR, when it comes, will be largely sentimental. Web-based literary outlets face their own structural and economic challenges, as Max will discuss later this week. But, with apologies to the National Book Critics Circle, the die has been cast. The future of book reviewing is online.

Part 2: Max considers revenue options for literary websites.
Part 3: Max hazards some early guesses about the next possible upheaval in the economy of literary journalism.

[Image credits: Matt Callow; Ginny Robot, Cliff1066, Daniel Swan]

is the author of City on Fire and A Field Guide to the North American Family. In 2017, he was named one of Granta's Best Young American Novelists.


  1. This is a brilliant piece.

    One thing to consider regarding your line, "What is to stop a blog that profits from Amazon links from promoting books it doesn't believe in?" Is this any more or less true of newspapers that rely on advertising from Barnes and Noble, other booksellers, or the publishers themselves? And, might it not be self-correcting? If I find a book review blog loves every book it reviews, I might become suspicious and begin to look elsewhere.

  2. Sean, we're glad you liked it. Stay tuned for tomorrow's installment when we'll further explore Amazon's role in the online book coverage ecosystem including your point about the possible conflict of interest in linking to Amazon.

  3. Great piece, Garth. I've been covering, or trying to, the weekly tally of advertising pages in the Times Book Review (

    It's hard to ask a lot of the paper in its current form given its economic woes. Today's paper has news of a corporate loss of $74 million in the first quarter(, and the continued existence of the Times as an entity is not a foregone conclusion.

    Those of us who've read the paper for the past 45 years or so remember better days, like the John Leonard reviews from his tenure as TBR editor and Harvey Shapiro's, but there some supremely stupid and annoying features existed then that long ago were dropped (i.e., the cranky Martin Levin's columns). I would say the general quality of the reviews has improved since the 1960s, when a lot of clueless people were asked to review books they had no business reviewing; consequently, the Times missed out on giving due credit some really important works in American literature.

    Also, the ink no longer rubs off on your hands.

    Anyone interested in reportage, no commentary to some of the 2007 NBCC panels can go to my recording, best I could, the panels you mention:

  4. Thanks for these addenda, Ed. No snub meant to audio – even your lowly correspondent is tucked away in the Segundo archives, I seem to remember. I do think there's so much of value out there, and I do think a great online newspaper book review would make more room for audio, which can be its own art form. The Slate Book Club installments on Infinite Jest and Tree of Smoke are also worth praising, as are the Lannan Foundation readings. Vis-a-vis advertising, stay tuned for part III.

  5. Garth, this is thoughtful, well-researched, comprehensive, as usual.

    That said, I have one mild disagreement, not with anything you said but with a key point that I think the piece overlooks. And it's that I think this all stems from a real decrease in the book's cultural power and standing, borne of an age/generation whose attention span is fragmented and, frankly, borderline functionally illiterate. I maintain that the majority of Americans don't have the patience or interest to commit the time to engage with a book. They'd rather watch Netflix or tweet (also a legacy of the nexus of capitalism and the ability of technology to offer truly instant gratification. At the risk of sounding way more conservative than I am, it's really a kind of decadence in its most classic definition). I don't see students coming out of schools equipped (or interested) to read, to think, to evaluate, and I think when newspapers cut book coverage, it's precisely because the audience has diminished. They do not create the crisis, they are merely responding to the reality that there's no longer a big enough constituency to serve.

    On the other hand, you never see Sports sections go away, do you? Consider a paper like the New York Post, which devotes something like 20 pages A DAY to sports. That's 120 pages a week, nearly 600 pages a month. A month. 7000 sports pages a year. I'm not sure all the newspaper book pages in a year equals 600. The newspapers are giving the readers what they want, and so we're back to a root cause/question of why they don't crave books the same way.

    The other thing I think you also have to consider is the reality of conglomerate owned newspapers, and the VERY slow reaction time and lack of imagination (and risk-taking) of large corporations. It's entirely possible that Ulin and Tannenhaus have brilliant visions for the web (Ulin, in particular, has really come to understand the online world) but even if they did, forcing that through boards and budgets and various other institutional pressures just doesn't happen quickly, if at all. Stephen Elliott could get the Rumpus online because he's not dealing with the bureaucracy of corporations. So that's a piece, too, and not a small one, I think.

    Thanks for this thoughtful conversation starter.

  6. Mark: I'm afraid you do indeed sound like an austere conservative here asking for the Grey Poupon. Please prove the peanut gallery wrong. If you wish to ignore the fact that Stephenie Meyer sold 22 million books in 2008 (more than any other author; mostly appealing to young people), and if you wish to ignore the fact that there are only four newspapers in the United States that have a circulation of more than 1 million people (USA Today, the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, and the Los Angeles Times), then that's your business. You may not like what regular people are reading and it would appear from your comment that you don't have any faith in the commonweal. Which is too bad. Because you can use something like TWILIGHT to encourage them to read other books. (I know this, because I have had conversations with Stephenie Meyer fans and I have listened to them WITHOUT judgment and managed to hook more than a few of them onto Poe and Lovecraft.)

    Personally I would like to see more books section written and run like sports section. The fact of the matter is that the sports section speaks to people and most books sections wish to speak to a select group of people. The fact of the matter is that the marketing people in books sections have failed to reach out to potential advertisers beyond the publishing industry. (What? Book people don't travel, stay in hotels, buy food, or what not? Oh yeah, we're still laboring under this sad exclusive delusion, instead of a fun inclusive manner of drawing in readers.)

    Here is the first sentence from an article in today's New York Post in the sports section:

    "Tell it to Mark Teixeira, while he stands on deck tonight at Fenway Park and hears his manhood challenged with screams that will include Joe Pesci's favorite word — which rhymes with buck."

    Now that, to me, is fun stuff. You'd really have to be a sourpuss not to like that. (I particularly like the phrase "hears his manhood challenged with screams." I mean, who wouldn't?) It immediately gets me interested in the article. And it's writing like that which gets people jazzed up and talking about the Yankees around the water cooler (and, hell, I HATE the Yankees). But books editors are resistant to this approach, which doesn't have to be uninformed or stupid and certainly doesn't have to be stuffy. I would love to read even two out of seven reviews written in this manner. I mean, if books sections are dying, shouldn't they start taking chances? But of course, the minute you start writing this way, the sooner that even the seemingly understanding begin taking the life out of your copy.

    No, the fact remains that the editors are part of the problem. They've become too comfortable with their jobs to take chances and fight real battles. In their defense, they may be keeping their jobs because they know that the top brass isn't going to hire anybody else to replace them (as we've seen with the Washington Post). It's a wonderful golden cage. And unless the editors start resisting (and fast), Garth is right. The future is online.

  7. This is brilliant stuff– smart, well-written, historically nuanced. In fact, this piece proves the potency and worth of books coverage–whether it be for the milions or the few. Plus, it's really fun to read. I appreciate your willingness to discuss pay rates, b/c of course that matters.

    I'd love to hear what you all think (and maybe you've done it and I've missed it) about a few things I've been thinking about: 1.) decline of negative book reviews, which I think is related to an increasingly insular book world (of course it's always been insular, but when academics took a more prominent role in reviewing that mitigated it somewhat, and when reviewers could make a living by reviewing, that helped too); 2.) what's up with this NYTBR idea that plot summary=review? I mean, really? (and which may be a way to avoid writing a negative review); and 3.) Editors, editors, editors. You do a great job recognizing their importance. And it matters not whether online or print–now we are beyond litblogs as the online source of reviews–we have the Rumpus, you, Second Pass, B&N, etc., as you mention. It's not the medium that matters in this debate–it's the quality. More often than not, editors make the difference.

    Great great work.

  8. Book reviews are the most evanescent form of journalism which itself has an extremely short shelf life. (It keeps coming at you– don't you wish you could make it stop?) Which is why your concluding sentence rings true.

    Thank you for the good and honest thinking in the piece and commentary.

  9. Newspapers with their reviews help books and they maintain a special channel of communication care in my opinion.I would strongly recommend Winning by Jack Welch and Suzy Welch. If you judge books by class and content, Jack Welch’s Winning certainly grabs your attention. Powerful testimonials on the back come from none other than the superbly talented Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, Rudy Giuliani, and Tom Brokaw, and other praise comes from Fortune, Business Week, and Financial Times. As the legendary retired CEO of General Electric, Jack Welch has won many friends and admirers in high places. In this latest book, he strives to show why. Winning describes the management wisdom that Welch built up through four and a half decades of work at GE, as he transformed the industrial giant from a sleepy “Old Economy” company with a market capitalization of some $4 billion to a new dynamic giant one worth nearly half a trillion dollars.



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