My holiday entertainment was watching an endless caravan of rain clouds cross the skies of a Breton peninsula. As an occasional diversion, I read a French guide book from 1909. Its pages were full of ads for grand hotels with casinos and spas where automobiles could be hired and fun could be had. All just five years before the Great War.
It wasn’t the hindsight that got me thinking though. It was the ads. Book sales are on the up. More people than ever are publishing books. Why no ads? If advertisers want to go where the audience is, why aren’t they nestling in the pages of Lemony Snicket or Ian McEwan?
I asked someone in the publishing biz. The integrity of the book, they said. The book as object. An advertising free space. Well, I can see that argument for the Lindisfarne Gospels, but for vacation reading?
Surely it has to come. Wouldn’t a couple of pages in a Harry Potter be worth something to someone? Don’t publishers talk to advertisers? Maybe you could offer cheap books with ads and expensive books without, and see which ones people preferred…maybe it’s already happening.