The curious case of second hand markets

When I was growing up in a Lancashire mill town in the 1960s and 70s, every Friday evening we went to the fish and chip shop to buy our meal. The particular delicacy was an upside-down pea mixture: mushy peas on top of the chips, which were then soaked through and green. But this post isn’t about British culinary delicacies, but rather about what the transaction included. Because it was the practice to take your plates and dishes to the shop, where the food was placed on them and wrapped in newspaper. You were buying fish, chips, peas and some paper. This is a contrast to today’s practice of buying in addition a polystyrene tray, and a contrast to buying a meal in a restaurant, or beer in a pub, where you are buying the food and renting the plate or glass.

These reflections about the nature of the property being exchanged in a market transaction came about because I read an article in the Financial Times about a plan for a second hand market for digital goods in Europe, to be launched by ReDigi, which is running one in the US already. It sells for 60 cents songs already bought online for 99 cents. Needless to say, the company has been taken to court in the US) by Capitol Records), for breaching ‘intellectual property’ rights.This is entirely in line with the instinct of the “content owning” industry – witness the way games companies have tried to restrict the second hand market in physical games by adding one-time only codes, and requiring purchasers of pre-owned games to also buy a new code to unlock the game.

The outcome of the ReDigi case will be fascinating: the question is whether something that is ‘property’ in the initial transaction ceases to be property for the purposes of a secondary transaction. Ultimately, it might be the case that digital purchases of books and music become more explicitly a rental model, as the capacity and claimed willingness of vendors such as Amazon to delete purchased e-books or enforce restrictive DRM already hints. Digital goods are a special case because there is no degradation of the second-hand compared to the new item. There are none of the information asymmetry ‘market for lemons’ problems arising from the unknown quality of a physical good such as a car (although not a physical book or garment, which can be inspected in the charity store).

Browsing around about this subject, I’m surprised to find how little research on second hand markets is available. The few journal articles I found – mostly dating back to the 1990s or early 2000s – suggest that second hand markets can increase rather than decrease the size of new goods markets, because consumers will upgrade more often if they can recoup some of their earlier purchase from selling them second hand. What’s more, it would be incorrect to assume anyway that used goods cannibalise new sales, because at least some consumers would never buy them at the higher, new prices. (Cory Doctorow picked up this point in the context of e-books in a 2005 piece.) And of course, we apply different standards, and different concepts of property, in different markets. There is the digital/physical divide, but also the divide between, for example, books, first edition or antiquarian books, and art – rarity determines not only whether second hand cheaper or more expensive, but also our cultural attitudes to buying in the used-goods market.

In the real world, second hand is huge. It’s huge in developed markets – see, for example, this Guardian article about the post-Christmas surge for charity shops – especially during a recession. It’s bigger still in developing country markets, where clothes and other goods such as mobile phones from the richer countries are sold on a large scale in the markets. This may be one of the all-too-frequent examples of a subject not being studied by economists because there’s no readily-available online data set on the OECD or World Bank websites. The one book I managed to find on contemporary society on Amazon is a 2003 anthropological study of [amazon_link id=”1859736726″ target=”_blank” ]Second Hand Cultures[/amazon_link]. (There is also [amazon_link id=”0230229468″ target=”_blank” ]Modernity and Second Hand Trade: European Consumption Cultures and Practices 1700-1900[/amazon_link].)

[amazon_image id=”1859736726″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Second-hand Cultures (Materializing Culture)[/amazon_image]

If anybody knows of relevant books in any social science discipline, I’d love to know.  This subject is a dog that hasn’t barked, but maybe that will change.

Random penguins and platforms

In an interesting article about the Random Penguin publishing merger, John Naughton describes the dynamic of gigantism in publishing that paved the way for the clash of the Titans between publishers and Amazon. High street book retailers consolidated, causing publishers in turn to develop mass market blockbusters, which prompted agents to seek mega-advances for star writers, such that the publishers and retailers had to sweat those expensive assets….

As Naughton writes: “Thus publishing turned into an industry that was inordinately reliant on blockbuster products to deliver the results that Wall Street demanded. The result was a market characterised by what statisticians call a power law distribution – ie one in which a relatively small number of products sell in enormous volume while a “long tail” of other products sell in relatively modest quantities. The physical world of high street shops can’t handle a long tail for the simple reason that shelf-space costs money. Every book has to earn its rent. But internet outfits such as Amazon don’t have any problem handling the long tail; in fact, the company probably makes more from selling non-bestsellers than it does from blockbusters.”

He cites [amazon_link id=”0745661068″ target=”_blank” ]Merchants of Culture[/amazon_link] by John Thompson as a good sociological description of how publishing and bookselling have changed.

[amazon_image id=”0745661068″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]Merchants of Culture[/amazon_image]

As I noted in a previous post about the publishing merger, though, Amazon is also interesting as a platform for smaller publishers, who would never be able to get shelf space in a high street store. I’m no fan of the Kindle, including because – as John Naughton and others have pointed out – you’re only renting the book. No doubt other already big publishers will also start to discuss mergers, so it will be intriguing to see whether Amazon does become a genuine platform for small publishers. Platforms are inherently few in number, so the acid test will be the terms on which it continues to deal with them will be the acid test, and one the competition authorities will no doubt be thinking about.

e-mergers

There’s obviously much excitement in the publishing world about the Random House-Penguin merger. It’s the kind of merger that makes me wish I was still on the Competition Commission, as the issues are fascinating. The justification given by the parties is that they will be able to invest on a larger scale in e-books. Clearly, all publishers are anxious about Amazon’s market power – 40% of all retail book sales in the UK according to one figure I saw. But this is complicated territory, competition-wise.

I was a member of the Competition Commission group that gave the 2006 go-ahead for Waterstones and Ottakar’s (remember them?) to merge on the grounds that online book sales offered vigorous competition to high street booksellers. Since then, Borders/Books Etc has also gone from British high streets, although Daunts and Blackwells seem to be more than holding their own. Ironically, the publishers – including Penguin – were vociferously opposed to the Waterstone’s merger, saying online sales would not pose an effective competitive threat to a single big high street chain.

What a lot of today’s commentary is not discussing in detail is the question of which markets along the whole value chain need to be assessed. There’s a transaction between author and publisher – mega-publishers look bad for most authors but on the other hand there seem to be quite a few reasonably successful small publishers springing up. Then the wholesale transaction between publishers and retailers – and here there is growing concentration on both sides, with the intriguing wrinkle that Amazon can act as a platform for smaller publishers to reach readers.

Finally, there is the retail market, both in its physical and e-book manifestations. Amazon is clearly dominant, and seems to be pricing Kindle devices at cost to hook customers in, but is not blatantly using its market power to raise prices to consumers, as opposed to squeezing the publishers’ margins – although given that the price of an e-book is a rental rather than a purchase price, that is a hypothesis to be tested. Anyway, one would need a two-sided market model to assess the competitive impact of changes in the two separate margins, as there is no reason these would be the same under perfect competition. Besides, any competition regulator would want to see a standardised e-book format emerge.

All in all, it would be a terrific case to be on! I’m not sure it will be referred – Penguin seems confident it can avert that with sufficient undertakings and disposals – but if there is an inquiry, the report will make a cracking good read.

The joy of books

Joe Queenan has written an essay in the Wall Street Journal (based on his new book, [amazon_link id=”0670025828″ target=”_blank” ]One For The Books[/amazon_link]) about how he became addicted to books.

[amazon_image id=”0670025828″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]One for the Books[/amazon_image]

Books, books, books. I love them too. I always read books about books: Susan Hill’s [amazon_link id=”1846682665″ target=”_blank” ]Howard’s End is On The Landing[/amazon_link]; Francis Spufford’s [amazon_link id=”0571214673″ target=”_blank” ]The Child That Books Built[/amazon_link]; Ann Fadiman’s[amazon_link id=”0140283706″ target=”_blank” ] Ex Libris[/amazon_link], and so on.

The best bit of Queenan’s very funny essay is his defence of the need for books, the physical objects. He writes:

“Books as physical objects matter to me, because they evoke the past. A Métro ticket falls out of a book I bought 40 years ago, and I am transported back to the Rue Saint-Jacques on Sept. 12, 1972, where I am waiting for someone named Annie LeCombe. A telephone message from a friend who died too young falls out of a book, and I find myself back in the Chateau Marmont on a balmy September day in 1995. ….

None of this will work with a Kindle. People who need to possess the physical copy of a book, not merely an electronic version, believe that the objects themselves are sacred. Some people may find this attitude baffling, arguing that books are merely objects that take up space. This is true, but so are Prague and your kids and the Sistine Chapel. Think it through, bozos. …. There is no e-reader or Kindle in my future.”

I read this inwardly shouting, ‘Yes! Yes!” I too use travel tickets as bookmarks and leave them in the book, the better to remember reading them the cafe in Verona or on the flight to Belfast.

Flying back from Belfast

The part Queenan misses out it the joy of second hand books and bookshops. On my flight back from Belfast I finished reading a beaten-up old Leo Malet story about his detective Nestor Burma, [amazon_link id=”B003BPT2L4″ target=”_blank” ]L’homme au sang bleu[/amazon_link].

L’homme au sang bleu

I bought it on our summer holiday in Brittany in this marvellous warren-like bookstore, open only in the afternoons, seducing tourists as they drive past towards Cap Frehel.

Bouquinerie

I have many objections to e-readers, but perhaps the biggest is that they prevent the sharing of books. I can’t read the same books as my husband, who has a dreadful e-book habit, so I can’t talk to him about them. I couldn’t put e-thrillers I’ve read on the book-swap shelf at the local station. I wouldn’t be able to take them to the charity shop or sell them to a second hand bookstore. But what kind of civilisation would we be without second hand bookstores?

Google, big guys and little guys

Google and the Association of American Publishers have settled their long-standing lawsuit over Google’s digitization of out-of-print but in-copyright books, but the case between Google and the Authors’ Guild remains open.Here is the New York Times report, here is the FT’s, and here is Timothy Lee on Ars Technica, highlighting the separation of interest between publishers and their food course, authors.

The settlement in effect means publishers are contracting out to Google the preparation of e-book versions of their back catalogues – they will pay a fee and get an electronic text they can readily publish. Publishing is a concentrated industry – although there is a competitive fringe, newly enabled by technology-driven reductions in cost, most books are sold by a small number of very large firms. These titans are engaged in a commercial wrestling match with some other very large businesses who are gatekeepers between them and their customers – Google, Amazon, Apple. The economies of scale in the marketing of books, in gaining readers’ attention, are large indeed. So are the network economies in providing a sales platform and suitable reading devices.

Small publishers and authors are minnows in this competition for access to readers. Yet of course some manage to use the technologies to break through, like the famous (notorious?) 50 Shades phenomenon. Let’s hope the fact the authors are hanging on in the US courts means the anti-trust issues get a thorough exploration. As Tim Wu’s excellent book [amazon_link id=”1848879865″ target=”_blank” ]The Master Switch[/amazon_link] demonstrates, there are inherent cycles of concentration in media and communication businesses, punctuated by periodic technological upheavals.

[amazon_image id=”1848879865″ link=”true” target=”_blank” size=”medium” ]The Master Switch: The Rise and Fall of Information Empires[/amazon_image]