Surprise — Amazon is testing out the bookstore business!
The program is in its infancy, with the first store opening in Seattle, and the store that I visited debuting just two months ago. Other stores will follow in Portland and Boston, and only time will tell where things go from there. Will Amazon’s push into physical retail finally put paid to your favorite comics shop or bookstore? Does Amazon bring anything special to the table besides deep discounts and even faster fulfillment than same-day delivery?
Read on to find out!
I visited Amazon’s meatspace outpost in the Westfield UTC Mall, an upscale fashion venue in northern San Diego. The store itself was a stone’s throw from an Apple Store, and directly next door to a Tesla showroom. The shop was clean and well-lit, and maybe just on the small side for a book store … at least compared to the airplane hanger dimensions of your average Barnes & Noble. The aisles felt a bit narrower than I am used to, and the racks were tall, too, so you couldn’t glance up and see across the store. The effect was more cozy than oppressive, but I expect it could get tight in there with Christmas crowds.
That slightly-smaller footprint meant this Amazon store was stocked differently than a big box book retailer. I didn’t see a periodical rack, a cafe, or anyplace to sit down and read. This wasn’t a library, kid! Aside from a healthy amount of floorspace given over to Amazon’s digital goodies, such as the Kindle, almost everything here was books — the stacks of cat calendars and gaming product that occupy center aisle at Barnes & Noble were in short supply.
Books, also, were in short supply. There were no more than three-odd copies of any given book on the shelf, and everything was displayed cover-out, meaning the shelves carried a fraction of what you’d find packed and stacked into another bookstore. The clerk described the books on offer as “heavily curated” — limited to those titles rated most highly by Amazon readers. (I also got the impression the stock turns pretty quickly). While this reduced opportunity for discovery of new things, it also made for a fruitful browsing experience. I’ve found the paradox of choice to be a real thing, and knowing that every book on the shelf had to pass some soul-destroying Big Data test let me explore with confidence. Having every book racked cover-out also allowed me to quickly scan the shelves.
The user experience of the store took some getting used to. I don’t know as it’s worse than the usual retail bump and grind, and it might have been better — I’m still making up my mind.
I was greeted by staff as I entered the store — it reminded me of an Apple Store in this regard. It was a friendly and non-intrusive “welcome to our store” sort of greeting. The staff didn’t need to put a sales hammerlock on me, because they knew I’d boomerang back to them in confusion after wandering the store for a few moments.
The first thing that confused me was the pricing system. When I think of buying books from Amazon, I think of discounts. So foremost on my mind — did the store match Amazon’s online prices?
The answer was yes … sort of.
Prices weren’t displayed on the little placards identifying each book. Neither did a placard’s bar code register anything for me when I viewed it through my Amazon iPhone app (about which more in a moment). No, to find prices, you needed to turn the book over and look for the list price. (Duh). No different than any other bookstore in that regard.
But you could also take a book to a scanner for additional pricing options, which came down to this — Amazon Prime members get Amazon pricing, and everyone else paid retail. And only schmucks pay retail!
This method was intriguing. If you were interested enough in a book to take it off the rack and carry it over to a scanner, I’m willing to bet you would follow-through and buy it, especially when that scanner beeped up a nice discounted price. I didn’t see shelves or tables near the scanners where you might dump a book after scanning it, so it was kind of on you to either walk it back to the shelf, or walk it up to the purchase station.
Checkout is another place where the system was different from conventional retail, at least for Amazon Prime members. A sign near checkout alerted me to scan a QR code with my Amazon app, then to present my phone to the clerk. The clerk scanned my books and then scanned my phone. My order appeared on a touchscreen, showing everything I bought and the discount I received. I signed with my finger and my transaction was complete, with charges billed to my Amazon account. This was about as many steps as paying with a credit card, but using my phone this way was new, so it felt a little awkward. I expect it would improve with familiarity.
And about that smart phone app — it really was essential equipment to use Amazon Books, along with a Prime membership. Without those things, this was just a small bookstore with limited selection. With the app, you could check prices through the phone, rather than walking over to a scanner. And as a free bonus you didn’t have to feel guilty about doing it, as I do when scanning a barcode at Barnes & Noble to decide if I really want it now, or if I could wait a day or two for a discount.
It did feel like there was a piece missing, though — and that piece was digital. In a very real sense, Amazon’s brick & mortar operation is a feeder for their digital ecosystem. Everything in the store pointed me toward the value of a Prime membership and the convenient utility of their app. But while Kindles were well-represented in the store (with a section of their own, and individual Kindles embedded in the book displays), there was a gulf between paper and digital books that I expected to be bridged here.
The value proposition would have been for a free or discounted digital copy of any physical product I bought to automatically arrive in my account, but no such service was on offer. It would have also been handy if there was a one-touch solution for buying digital editions right where the books were racked — maybe by tapping my phone on the display plate. Instead, the clerk encouraged me to use my Amazon app to scan barcodes to make purchases or put something on my wish list the way you would in any other store. It felt like transferring trains at the station, instead of going directly to my destination, and this (admittedly small) bit of friction discouraged me from grabbing digital books when I might otherwise have given in to impulse.
But I did buy a couple physical books, and it has been a long time since I did that in a bookstore. Even with a limited selection, brick-and-mortar retail beats heck out of digital when it comes to browsing and discovery, and in this sense Amazon Books proved the best of both worlds — I walked out of the store with two books I didn’t have in mind when I went in, and I got them at Amazon’s discounted rate.
So the store was a big win all around, right?
I enjoyed the browsing and buying experience and would likely visit this shop every week if it was closer to home, but three things stick out for me.
First, I really would like a better convergence of the print and digital worlds. That there is still a divide between print and digital inside an Amazon brick-and-mortar outlet feels like a missed opportunity.
Second, as much as the curated selection of books suited my particular needs, I am sensitive to how this system throttles the discovery process. Amazon already exerts an unhealthy influence on the market by what they do and do not chose to show at their site, and this is only exacerbated in the reduced display space of their physical environment.
Third, I do sympathize with every other physical bookseller, who have survived the firestorm of the Barnes & Noble vs. Borders beatdown and seen their business undercut by Amazon’s online discounting only for Amazon to come after them on their home turf. Choice is good for readers, and discoverability is good for authors, and neither of those things will be especially well-served if brick-and-mortar Amazon stores drive everyone else out of business.
But that might just happen. A great local bookstore is a treasure, especially when staffed by enthusiastic readers who offer their own recommendations; or sign you up for an author’s in-store appearance; or when they host book clubs and meet-ups; or even when they just invite you to pet the bookstore cat. Amazon’s store might only offer part of that experience, but the store is still fun, the purchase process is novel and (mostly) painless, and everybody loves an Amazon discount.
Bookstore purists might turn their noses up at Amazon’s operation, but I am reminded of when Apple jumped into the music market with iTunes and the iPod. Apple’s digital music was inferior to other options (and if you don’t believe me, ask an audiophile the next time you have three hours to be harangued about digital music quality), but the end-to-end experience of doing music the Apple Way was greater than the sum-of-its parts, and the iPod conquered the world.
Will Amazon’s store disrupt the bookstore market the way the iPod disrupted music? Only time will tell! In the meantime, I’m going to read Paper Girls, which I bought off the shelf today at Amazon’s discounted price … but please let me know your thoughts in the comments section, below!
Next: #166: A Tale of Two NerdWalks
Andrez is a dedicated friend of Longbox Graveyard — and thanks to an advanced manuscript Andrez shared with me, you’ll even find a laudatory quote from Longbox Graveyard among the novel’s many endorsements. This original work of fiction is bound to appeal to readers of this blog. It’s a labor of love by a writer who definitely loves the superhero stories that I celebrate here at Longbox Graveyard — reading this book is like discovering a secret Marvel saga that you never knew existed!
Congratulations to Andrez on the publication of Who Is Killing The Great Capes Of Heropa — celebrate by checking out Andrez’s book on Amazon!
- Who is Killing the Great Capes of Heropa? [press release] (girlslikecomics.com)
- Hulk Gallery (longboxgraveyard.com)
So far I haven’t given much thought to selling my comics.
It’s been enough to process the books from the Accumulation to the Collection, make note of them in my database, and sometimes read a book or two as I go.
But now I’ve come to my 1970’s-era X-Men books. If I have any books that might command significant prices, it is these.
I like X-Men well enough … but if books I bought for .40 can be listed for forty bucks then I have to sit up and take notice. Besides, many of the most valuable books that I own have been collected in the excellent Uncanny X-Men Omnibus Volume 1 (and if you don’t have it, you should — get it HERE). I find the idea of selling my X-Men to finance purchasing Omnibus Volume 2 if/when it comes out very attractive. Especially when spitball numbers tell me I should be able to afford that second Omnibus several times over, thanks to the completeness and condition of my X-Men collection.
Problem is, preparing comics for sale plunges me straight into terra incognita (value grading comics) and terra I-don’t-wanna (eBay).
The first issue is one of authority.
Yes, Judge Dredd IS the law … but he’s not here to grade my comics. Who decides what a comic is worth?
Back in the day, we were supposed to look at the Overstreet Price Guide. The Guide is still being published, but it has no significant online presence that I can find. Overstreet Guide is probably still the “authority of record” for comic book values, but as a print-only resource publishing on a yearly basis … well … as far as I’m concerned, the information superhighway has done a Radiator Springs on that rest stop. I like thumbing it at the book store to skim the chatty and anecdotal market reports, but I’m not ready to drop thirty bucks on getting a copy.
A little more current-century is CGC. The Certified Guarantee Company is an independent grading company, who will examine your books, offer an objective grade, and seal the book into a plastic clamshell likely to survive the apocalypse … for a not-inconsiderable fee. If I was grading Amazing Fantasy #15 or, say, a copy of the Bible, numbered and signed by the Original Author, then I’d spring for this service in a heartbeat. But paying CGC twenty bucks to grade books that might be worth forty doesn’t pencil out.
So after groping about for a bit I’ve decided to invest blind faith in ComicsPriceGuide.com. For the price of a (free) registration, I get access to their price guide, which at least gives me a consistent baseline for valuing my own books. “CPG” also solves my second issue …
… which is methodology.
CPG has outlined a reasonably in-depth Comic Book Grading Guide on their website.
Beginning with (I gather) standards established by prior authorities, the CPG list outlines thumbnail guidelines for rating comics on a ten point scale, from “GEM MINT 10.0” all the way down to “POOR .5” (we won’t consider the existential despair of the even-lower “NO GRADE” grade). Working from this standard, I think most of my old X-Men books fit into “FINE” to “VERY FINE” categories, between 7.0 and 8.0 grade. Not bad, but I think they would rate higher, if not for a slight-but-noticeable curl for my books, a result of being stored on-end (but without backing boards) for decades. Curiously, the CPG list doesn’t call out “cover curling” as a consideration in grading, but I think I can draw equivalents by knocking off points for curling the same way points are deducted for a “rolled spine” (shudder).
OK, I’ve solved authority and methodology to a comfortable degree. This leaves me with the third and largest issue …
There’s a big difference between value and price — almost as big a difference as there is between asking and getting. It’s one thing for me to note in my Collectorz database that I have issue #120 of X-Men, that I have it stored in Box 2 and marked “For Sale,” and that I rate it “VERY FINE 8.0” with a current value of $50.00. It’s another thing, entirely, to sell the book for that or any other price.
I’m no stranger to eBay. My feedback rating is positive enough to earn me a fancy star over there, garnered mostly from buying and selling boardgames. But I don’t really like eBay. I don’t like the interface for listing items, and I especially don’t like persnickety buyers busting my balls over problems, real or imagined, in the condition of my items. And if people have given me grief over the condition of used video games, what are they going to say about my comics? I’m trying to err on the side of the buyer when assigning grades, but still. I’m new at this. And we’re talking about eBay.
There’s also the issue that eBay appears to be a ghost town of a market for comics right now. Searching for current auctions on the books I’d offer reveals a lot of overpriced “Buy It Nows” and zero-bid items. The only upside is that the care I’m taking in grading my books appears to put me in the minority for sellers in this category, who seem to pick just any-old number to grade their books, and price them — shall we say — optimistically, in view of market realities.
Which means there might be a niche for me here, as the Honest Guy Who Undergrades His Comics & Genuinely Cares About His Customer.
I’m just not quite ready to change into my eBay costumed identity. Until then, I’ll keep marking select books “For Sale” in my database, so I will be ready at a moment’s notice to offer “Captain Marvel #1 VERY FINE (MINUS) 7.5,” “Tales of Suspense Vol. 1 #65 FAIR 1.0,” or “X-Men #96 FINE 5.5″ for sale.
As an experiment (and with little hope of success), I’ve put up a page on this blog listing a few of my comics for sale. If you want to buy a book from the Longbox Graveyard — complete with a little sticker on the backing board to establish the book’s provenance — then hit the Back Issues For Sale tab at the top of this page!
The Longbox Graveyard back issue store is open 24/7, and graded VERY FINE 8.0 for ubiquity and ease-of-use. Thanks!
NEXT WEEK: #15 Catching Lightning
These titles and the word “collection” are rarely found in the same sentence.
These aren’t comics you collect. These are comics you accumulate.
I’m hip-deep in these kinds of books.
A collection — as far as I’m concerned — must be organized, and it must contain things you actually want. If you don’t know what you have, and you can’t find a specific book quickly, then what you have is not a collection. It is an accumulation.
You can guess what I have.
I never threw away a comic book, never sold one. Even the first books I bought in 1974 I took some care to preserve … when I wasn’t cutting them up for Marvel Value Stamps (and a moment of silence, please, as I confess to cutting the stamp from my copy of Incredible Hulk #181). In the 1980s I adopted bags and comic boxes to store my books. I haven’t treated my comics perfectly but neither have I abused them.
What I never really managed to do was index my comic books. I had only a vague idea of what I owned, and trying to find any particular book depended on selecting a random box and getting lucky.
This has led to buying things twice because I can’t find them. Despite owning a full run of the first printing of Watchmen, when I wanted to re-read the series after watching that crappy movie, I bought the collected graphic novel rather than trying to track down my copies of the original books. Likewise when I wanted to re-read my Alan Moore Swamp Things. Knew I had them, didn’t know where — so I bought the trade paperback.
Trades themselves are not such a bad choice in the scheme of things. When digital comics finally come of age I think we’ll look at trades the same way as we do at 8-Track tapes, but there’s nothing wrong with them right now. Trade paperbacks aren’t terribly expensive, and their format might be superior to the original books. This is particularly true for older titles, where condition, print quality, and expense of the originals make tracking down the real deal problematic. For example, I decided to collect the better-looking Dark Horse Chronicles of Conan recolored reprints rather than trying to fill gaps in the run I own.
But for recent books, that were printed on decent paper, and that I damn well know I own … buying trades rather than finding the originals was waving a white flag. And it bothered me.
It also bothered me because I feel possessed by my possessions.
For nearly forty years, I’ve hauled this Longbox Graveyard with me between ten different houses in two countries. The last carry nearly killed me. And it’s not just comics — I’ve also accumulated a huge pile of games, miniature figures, books, and other incomprehensible bullshit.
The problem is this accumulation gives me little joy. Often it’s the opposite — having all these things is oppressive. It reminds me how rooted I am. I want to be a free spirit, walkin’ the earth and sticking it to The Man like Rick Jones!
Instead I look at all the stuff I have but don’t use and feel weighed down by it. I regret money spent on anchors.
I’ve purged books, and games, but never my comics. Partly because I haven’t had ready people or places to take them off my hands, but mostly because my comics are different. A lot of my childhood is wrapped up in those books. I bought each and every one of them with some degree of deliberation. Yes, even Devil Dinosaur (I love King Kirby!)
I’d regret dumping them. But I also regret dragging them around like the hump I must bear.
It’s not as simple as just getting rid of things. My desire to be rid of things is just another desire. I could easily rid myself of everything and find I still feel that I have too much. Recklessly purging my comics before I’ve come to terms with what they mean might be worse than just letting them weigh me down.
The Accumulation represents unfinished business, both personal and professional. “Personal” because I’ve never sorted and counted and categorized and graded my comics, which is something I’ve long wanted to do. “Professional” because my feelings about comics are still wrapped up in unresolved issues about my unsuccessful comics career (with which I will begin coming to grips in next week’s blog).
It’s like all those comics boxes are little tombstones. Not for nothing is this blog called the Longbox Graveyard!
And so I have committed at last to turning the Accumulation into a Collection. A large part of this blog will be about how I sort and rediscover my comics — the books I save, the books I give away, and the books I (hopefully) sell. More to come!
In other news, I was all set to plug my Amazon Longbox Graveyard Store, but since I live in the rogue state of California, I am under some kind of Amazon fatwa at the moment. Regardless of my inability to make pennies on the dollar for the mighty Amazon, I invite you to mouse on over there, where you can purchase copies of some of the things I talk about here on the blog, like those groovy Conan trades I mentioned above.
NEXT WEEK: #4 Null And Void