A book is marketed with mayonnaise-scented ink. jealous? I? | David Barnett
FFirst, a confession: I haven’t read Jennifer L. Armentrout’s latest novel, Primitive Blood and Bone. I didn’t smell it or lick it. This might be strange, were it not for the fact that a special edition of the romance book was released in garlic-infused ink.
Armentrout is a highly successful “hybrid” author, both self-published and traditionally, who has made the New York Times bestseller list on numerous occasions. She writes in the currently insanely popular romantic fantasy market, and her new novel, the latest in a series, features vampire-like monsters called Kraven.
Step right into the theater: Hellmann’s, which despite having the kind of name you might find in a romance novel, actually supplies mayonnaise and other countertop condiments. Hellmann’s has teamed up with Armentrout and its publishers, Blue Box Press, to release the Special edition From the book The Primal of Blood and Bone printed in ink mixed with garlic aioli – Remember, Kraven is a vampire, so he hates a little garlic.
This is, of course, an attempt to grab the TikTok generation by the throat. And understandably so: the video-sharing social media platform has become one of the biggest book marketing opportunities for publishers in the modern era.
And here, dear reader, I breathe a sigh of relief and reveal myself as yet another angry, middle-aged, largely unknown author, waving his fist at the clouds in the style of Grampa Simpson and raging against the death of light…or at least, against the shift away from the apparently outdated idea that publishers are just trying to sell books because, you know, they’re books, and they’re good.
Just stop typing that takedown in the comment box for one second and let me explain. Do I sound bitter? Of course I’m bitter. All writers are misanthropic sociopaths at heart. We’re bitter about everything. That’s why we make things up all the time, trying to imagine worlds that we might not be as bitter about as this one.
But in this case, I have no bitterness toward Armentrout—her book fly, garlic-filled edition or whatever—or toward other writers, or toward any of the publishers I work with. Rather, I’m bitter about a publishing industry model that seems strangely averse to selling the majority of the books it produces.
Of course, even the largest publishers have limited marketing budgets. There’s only so much money flowing in. But there seems to be a strange system at work where books that don’t need much promotion get all the money spent on them.
You know the ones I mean. The ones that zoom to the top of the charts on release day, the ones by pop musicians, reality TV stars, strict judges or whoever gets a sweet spot on the BBC Breakfast or One Show sofa for plugging them.
The irony is that these books don’t need marketing, they basically sell themselves. It’s all the other books written by, well, people like me, who don’t have the benefit of big PR campaigns that really need that marketing push. If people don’t know about the book, they won’t be able to buy it.
And here he goes again, bitter and shaking his fist. I’m a realist, though; Nobody wants to see Dave from Wigan awkwardly trying to flog his latest horror novel on the BBC Breakfast sofa between Taylor Swift and Kimmy Badenoch when they can book erudite, entertaining and – most importantly – well-known faces like Richard Osman, Bob Mortimer and that lad from the boy band.
However, a little anecdote from a Facebook author group I joined (Sociopathic Misanthropic Writers, if you want to join): One author gave her publisher a list of press reviewers, booksellers, fellow authors, and social media book influencers who said they would be happy to get an advance copy of her upcoming book. When several people wrote to tell her they had not received a copy of the forthcoming book, she checked with the publishers, who sheepishly admitted they had not sent any.
This is why using gimmicks to sell books bothers me somewhat. I have to admit, putting garlic in your ink is pretty cool, although it’s not the first time someone has had this idea. In 1977, Marvel released a comic book About the brilliant rock band Kisswhich was marketed as “printed with real KISS blood” after the band members had already added it Vials of their blood into the printers’ red ink pot.
After promoting the newsletter
But I wish publishers would think of this kind of idea after They have fulfilled what seems to me to be one of their primary obligations: to promote – by the usual marketing means – all the books they publish. Otherwise, how will you, the reader, know about them?
There is also the danger of exaggerating the hype. Self-published author Audra Winter has embarked on a massive marketing campaign ahead of the TikTok release of her fantasy novel The Age of Scorpius. Anticipation reached fever pitch, with millions watching Its promotional videos And thousands of pre-orders. Then when the book finally came out earlier this year… People hate that. TikTok user and author LCGallagher posted a two-and-a-half-minute takedown of the book with the caption “A piece of shit with glitter on it is still a piece of shit.” On the book review site Goodreads, Age of Scorpius received an award Average rating is 1.52 starswith one user saying: “This is why when someone tells you your book isn’t ready, you don’t just dismiss it because it’s not something you want to hear.” What was a masterclass in TikTok marketing became a nightmare for the author when the platform’s users turned on Winter and her book.
However, all this gives me little idea. My next horror novel, due out next year, is set in the coalfields of Lancashire. Most printing inks are carbon based, right? So it can be said that my book was “printed with real charcoal!”
Now, can someone do a TikTok for me?