"Get with the Program!": The Mass- and Direct-Marketing of Children's Literature

Ian Willison has recently argued that any future history of the book will have to account for innovative channels of distribution. Researchers, he says, will have to consider the revolutionary forms of books in our advanced technological age. Yet technology is not the only force exerting pressure on publishing formats. Children's literature, for one, assumes many forms: traditional hardcover, paperback, board book, toddler-pocket board book, bath book, singing book, coloring book, and, only very recently, interactive disk. A comprehensive survey of contemporary children's publishing should account for this proliferation of editions. It might begin by extending what we mean by "channels of distribution," by acknowledging that the ways in which books infiltrate a market are replete with significance, that the scenes of our consumption determine, in many ways, the products available for acquisition.

The rapid growth of the children's book market during the past decade has been well documented. No longer exploding, the market nevertheless continues to expand, with net sales reaching nearly $1.3 billion in 1992 (Dunleavey). The number of new bookstores devoted solely to children's literature is often cited as a complementary indication of the health of the market. Most of these stores are small, independent bookshops; but even Barnes and Noble and Waldenbooks have entered the arena. Yet bookstores tell only one part of the distribution story, and their voice is growing fainter.

To increase sales in a tighter market, publishers have sought out alternative, mass-market outlets, such as those provided by department stores—Sears, J.C. Penney's—variety or discount stores—K Mart, Target—and specialty stores—toy stores, "early learning" stores, and clothing shops (Burroughs). Clearly, the books offered in a mass-market outlet will differ dramatically from those stocked by the independent bookseller whose audience consists of committed "book people." Independent bookshops usually offer a mix of titles but stake their reputation on the display of high-end literature, of the new publication in a deluxe hardcover edition or of the classic title reissued with new, full-color illustrations. Mass-market book displays also will differ, though in perhaps more subtle ways, from those of a chain bookstore, whose customers, though probably not book people, are, at least, people committed to buying a book. Once they are situated in a mass-market setting, books must compete with other products for consumer attention.

A Harper Junior Books study of the mass market divides children's products into three categories—high-demand, low-price, brand-name—and then equates children's books with each category. High-demand merchandise, such as the Nintendo game system, is heavily advertised on television and has its equivalent in books that feature licensed characters, such as the Sesame Street Muppets. Low-price products are not heavily advertised; they are generic items that compete on price. An obvious comparison in the children's book market would be Golden Books. Brandname products, such as Barbie or GI Joe, are equivalent to classic children's titles, such as The Little Engine That Could(Burroughs 66). Retailers determine the mix of products they will offer, including their books, according to the demographics of their particular segment of the mass market. Thus, while publishers tout new and classic backlist titles, or high-end and brand-name books, they are coming to rely on bulk sales to a growing number of retailers who feel they will achieve better results with high-demand and low-priced goods.

For example, Toys R Us has just introduced a "bookstore" within its superstore. It occupies a special section of the warehouse-like building—strategically located near the discounted diapers and infant formulas. It distinguishes itself from its surroundings with carpeted floors and broad white bookshelves. The effect is dramatic: the bookstore presents itself as an alcove of calm adjacent to the most practical products in the store. Its positioning may be intended to suggest that books are necessary goods. Its atmosphere seems to promise moments of reasonably-priced quiet in the midst of hyperactivity—both in the store and, by extension, on the homefront...