I come to bury Borders, not to praise it: Part 3

Antony: When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honourable man.

Julius Caesar, Act III, scene ii

Borders was born in Michigan. I always thought that its place of birth gave it a perspective on publishing that was closer to Middle America’s than Barnes & Noble’s or even Books-a-Million’s. Borders buyers never seemed to be as interested in an author’s pedigree and reputation as they were in whether there were readers who would love a book or be helped by it.

This seemed particularly true during the time I worked at Health Communications, Inc., in Deerfield, Florida. I started at HCI in 1994 as an associate editor. I knew HCI as a recovery and self-help publisher from my time as a bookseller at Young & Welshans (I was responsible for shelving that area of the store). HCI published some of the most influential books in the field at that time, including John Bradshaw’s Bradshaw On: The Family and Healing the Shame That Binds You, Janet Woititz’s Adult Children of Alcoholics and A Struggle for Intimacy, and Charlie Whitfield’s Healing the Child Within and A Gift to Myself. Unfortunately, the federal government and many states had cut funding for in-treatment programs, and as those funds dwindled, there weren’t nearly as many books being purchased by treatment facilities. Sales had fallen at HCI, but that was about to change in a big way.

The only other editor on staff when I began working at HCI was my boss, Christine Belleris, who was the editorial director. We both started just after the publication of the original Chicken Soup for the Soul by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen, but before it made it to the New York Times best seller list. One of the first books I worked on was actually A Second Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul. I can remember kerning paragraphs in the book in some new program called QuarkXpress so that the book would fit on 352 pages. Fortunately, Christine and I were green enough and enthusiastic enough not to realize that twenty to twenty-five books a season with two editors and an army of freelancers was insanity. Somehow we survived and had a lot of fun publishing books that changed readers’ lives for the better. It may not have been New York publishing, but we sure found an audience for our books in all those states between New York and L.A.

In May of 1997, we published Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul with Kimberly Kirberger as Jack and Mark’s coauthor. It was the fourth spin-off from the main line (2nd Helpring, 3rd Serving, 4th Course, etc.), and some of us at HCI had our doubts about the likely success of title, or rather the lack of audience. The conventional wisdom at that time was that teens didn’t buy books, certainly not self-help titles. We also had some concerns about Kimberly as a coauthor since she was Jack’s sister and was not a seasoned speaker like other coauthor’s had been.

To say that both Teenage Soul and Kimberly surprised us would be an understatement. Kimberly Kirberger proved to have both an impressive understanding of what would appeal to teenagers and the ability to talk to them in a genuine way that is difficult for many experts. The book was a little slower out of the gate, but once it started running, there was no stopping it. It eventually became one of the best-selling books in the entire line.

In Spring of 1998, I had been promoted to editorial codirector at HCI. We were invited by Borders to come to their Ann Arbor office and talk with them about teen self-help and non-fiction. Terry Burke, our VP of sales and marketing, Jane Bluestein, one of our authors who was a speaker on issues facing kids, education, and parenting, and I planned a trip. We had been thinking about launching an HCI Teens imprint and we thought this would be an opportunity to pitch some book ideas to Borders buyers and see if they were interested.

I can no longer remember the names of the Borders staff who met with us that day. What I do remember is that after we floated a couple ideas by them, they cut us off and presented us with the following: They felt there was a need for teen non-fiction and self-help. They were preparing to add a section for teen non-fiction in all their stores. And they were expecting us to provide titles to fill those shelves.

It was clear that Borders was willing to buy-in any titles we published for teens. This relieved any concern about launching an imprint for teens and for publishing more titles on issues facing adolescents. We returned to the office and starting building a list of teen titles.

Over the next few years, we built a solid list of books for teens. Borders opened this door to us, and we were able to fill their shelves with books that helped a huge number of kids dealing with the issues of low self-esteem, poor body image, unhealthy relationships, destructive family dynamics, questions about their faith, and addictions. I’m sure we weren’t the only publisher Borders approached, as the industry had a mini-eruption of teen-oriented titles during this time.

It still amazes me that Borders reached out in this way. They were confident we could deliver books that would truly speak to teens, and their confidence gave us the push we needed to make it happen. In a way, this was the beginning of the growth of teen books, as these books moved from the children’s/YA area into it’s own space. Other booksellers followed Borders lead, but it was Borders that established these books in the market and sustained them.

It was initiatives like this that made Borders feel like a true trading partner for publishers. Borders worked with publishers to find the books their customers wanted and needed, and to put those books on Borders store shelves.

I come to bury Borders, not to praise it: Part 1

Antony: Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones;
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault;
And grievously hath Caesar answer’d it.
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, —
For Brutus is an honorable man;
So are they all, all honorable men, —
Come I to speak in Caesar’s funeral.
He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
But Brutus says he was ambitious;
And Brutus is an honorable man.

Julius Caesar, Act III, scene ii

As we are in the final liquidation of Borders remaining stores, much has been written about how this national bookstore chain juggernaut ended up in bankruptcy and liquidation. This is not a post about why, but rather a look at what was lost on the way to this ultimate demise. Replace Caesar with Borders above, and I will tell you, “The noble Literary Pundits / Hath told you Borders was ambitious: / If it were so, it was a grievous fault; / And grievously hath Borders answer’d it.” I will also say this, “Borders was my friend, faithful and just to me,” at least for many years.

The first time I remember entering the doors of the original flagship Borders in Ann Arbor, MI, was during my college years, the best I can remember the summer of 1988. I was an English literature major at Michigan State University, heading into my senior year in the fall, working at the East Lansing Community (Commie) News while hanging out with other writers, poets, and artistes. We had organized local readings and writing groups and thought we were at the beginning of what would surely be auspicious careers as writers, editors, and publishers.

East Lansing had it’s fair share of good bookstores at that time. There was Jocundry’s, Curious Book Shop, and Schuler Books up by Meridian Mall. (It was only a few years later that I discovered the connection between Jocundry’s, Schuler Books, and Borders, but that will have to wait for Part 2.) Between these stores and Commie News, I could find most of what I wanted to read, including almost everything Bukowski had written. The two stores in East Lansing were “cozy” in size, and Schuler Books was a car or bus ride away, so there were still gaps in what was easily attainable.

One day that summer, our crew decided we should all pile in a car and go to Ann Arbor to hit the bookstores. It may have been during the Ann Arbor Street Art Fair, though I am no longer certain of that. I know we hit the Dawn Treader Book Shop and a couple other used stores. The biggest revelation, however, was the Borders store on State Street. It was literally like walking into an English major’s fantasy. There were books upon books upon books, all new and clean and fresh.

One of the first things I noticed was that past the tables near the front doors were low-slung bookshelves full of poetry books. This bears repeating: the first shelves of books after entering the store and passing the front of store displays were poetry books. Rows and rows of poetry books. I would guess there were thirty feet of bookshelves devoted just to poetry. I was at a loss to think of one coveted volume that did not reside on those shelves. It was simply amazing to me, a book person. The store had clearly been merchandised by a madman.

I don’t know how long we browsed Borders’ aisles that day, but it was hours. I left with copies of Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s A Coney Island of the Mind, Gregory Corso’s Elegiac Feelings American, Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish, and others.

The Borders employees of that time were all cut from what seemed like similar cloth. They were whip smart, deeply knowledgeable about books, and slightly arrogant. In other words, they didn’t belong in retail, but they belonged in Borders. And they would help you find just what you were looking for; it just might cost you a slice of your dignity.

Borders was a bookstore that made me think: I want to work here. I want to be one of these people. I’m not sure there is a stronger statement a retail store can make to its customers.