Between 2010 and 2015, as many as 288 single-outlet Italian bookshops gave in and closed, while online book sales grew from 5.1 to 14% of the total. How and why is the publishing market changing?
Have you thought about popping into the local bookshop to stock up on novels, essays or other printed volumes — perhaps as a recent Christmas gift for friends and family? Without knowing it, you may have helped spark a virtuous counter-trend, in a landscape that is anything but encouraging for the book trade in the year just gone.
The alarm call has been echoing insistently across various publications, and the verdict seems unanimous: between 2010 and 2015, the number of bookshops across the peninsula fell dramatically, with as many as 288 outlets of the so-called "traditional" kind (that is, single-outlet shops not belonging to major publishing chains) closing down, while the use of online book purchasing grew even more conspicuously, rising from 5.1 to 14 per cent of the total market.
In short, while the number of bookshops dropped from 1,115 in 2010 to 827, internet shopping has in the meantime equalled, and is set to surpass in the future, the thresholds of large-scale book retail.
It is hard not to wonder about the possible correlation between these striking figures, and above all about the many complex transformations running through today's book market.
To dispel any bibliophile illusions once and for all, the growth of e-commerce has unfortunately not produced any surge in the number of readers: according to ISTAT data, only 42 per cent of Italians surveyed in 2015 said they had read at least one book during the previous year, and almost one reader in two (45.5 per cent) says they allowed themselves no more than three books a year, with a significant reduction, over the five-year period from 2010 to 2015, in both household spending on books and the total number of volumes read.
As if that were not enough, the Associazione italiana editori (Aie) has revealed that as many as 13 million Italians live in municipalities (sometimes fairly large ones) in which there is not a single bookshop — a gap that is clearly linked to lower reading rates.
The weapon enabling Amazon to climb the book market ever more swiftly comes down to a factor as straightforward as it is decisive: a drastic reduction in selling prices, combined with a dizzying range of titles and particularly fast delivery procedures.
Publishers and distributors (with very rare exceptions, such as the dispute with the French company Hachette) accept the conditions imposed by the e-commerce giant because, unlike what happens with bookshops — which for the most part purchase volumes on a sale-or-return basis — Amazon guarantees a secure and immediate payment.
This extreme competitiveness is made possible not only by the considerably favourable tax arrangements that Jeff Bezos's company (107 billion in global turnover) can legally benefit from by paying taxes in Luxembourg, but also by the use of book sales as a promotional tool — a "loss leader" that has in effect allowed Amazon to multiply exponentially its online trade in all its many other products.
One variable that is far from irrelevant in the flourishing growth of online book sales can be found in the persistent tendency (very Italian, though not exclusively so) to strongly prefer the role of author over that of reader.
As Aie has also revealed, the ranks of those who turn to self-publishing are growing ever larger, thereby contributing to the spread of digital formats and so-called e-books. This phenomenon is all the more significant when we consider that among electronic books, almost one title in two comes precisely from self-published writers.
How should we interpret this whirl of data and statistics relating to a market in rapid evolution? Perhaps a sensible reading can be found by highlighting how the book now tends to serve two different sets of needs — that is, two forms of use that are both legitimate and, at bottom, complementary.
On one side we find those consumers who, often required by work to obtain titles that are hard to find — perhaps in a foreign language — as quickly as possible, readily favour the route of e-commerce and, where applicable, the e-book, given the undeniable convenience of being able to store on one's Kindle or other e-reader a quantity of volumes whose bulk would cause difficulty for any commuter or frequent traveller.
On the opposite side, however, the ritual of going to a bookshop persists (and must obviously be protected): browsing, exploring, glancing at other customers' choices, socialising and exchanging ideas through talks, book launches and live meetings with authors.
In other words, the so-called traditional bookshop remains the primary provider of what online commerce can never supply: live human interaction, the tactile experience, atmosphere, debate, opportunities for bringing people together.
Could this also be why Amazon itself has now begun to equip itself, in addition to its many depots and warehouses, with proper shops?
In the meantime, it is impossible not to call to mind the prophecy of Umberto Eco, a convinced and enthusiastic user of e-books and electronic devices, who nevertheless maintained that the printed book will never die, since "it is like the spoon, the hammer, the wheel, the scissors. Once you have invented them, you cannot do better."