(Originally published in Library Journal, Nov. 15, 2004, as part of a cover story on university presses. Since the link to the website no longer works, I’m reprinting it here.)
I helped kill a fine university press, but I’m only an accomplice
I have a confession to make. The fine Northeastern University Press is on life support, and it’s my fault.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t act alone. I’m a librarian, for god’s sake. I love books, okay? Things just…I don’t know. They just spiraled out of control.
At my college my colleagues and I work with the faculty to make the most of our limited budget. Books, journals, databases…we try to create a microcosm of the world of knowledge so our students can do authentic research even at a fairly small institution. That’s the idea, anyway. So we stretch our dollars, we make compromises. And now that press is barely hanging on to life. You gotta believe me; I never meant for this to happen.
How it went down
Here’s how it went down. Say a biologist at my school wants to publish in a prestigious journal. She won’t complain about paying page charges – it’s already built into her National Science Foundation (NSF) grant, our tax dollars at work. She also isn’t bothered that she has to surrender copyright to the publisher; no skin off her nose, she just wants to get it into circulation. After all, anyone who wants to read it can get it at the library, right?
So we subscribe to that prestigious journal, knowing most of the hundreds of articles it publishes each year will never be read by anyone on our campus, but it’s a high-quality journal. It’s unthinkable to drop it. Not to mention the biologists would rip our heads off if we did. The library subscription costs 16 times an individual rate and that cost jumps ten or 15 percent each year. The vig is killing us, but what can you do? Now and then the librarians and faculty have a sit-down and cancel some journal titles, which takes a lot of time and causes hard feelings. But nobody has to negotiate not to buy a book, so when the cost of journals goes up, we usually avoid the grief and just cut back on our book orders.
Bear with me, okay? This gets complicated. The library also provides access to most of what’s published in the fields taught at our college, so we subscribe to around 80 databases. Some of the most expensive ones may be used by only a handful of students and faculty, but for that program it’s an essential tool. Can’t do without it. Especially given the competition has a subscription; we have to keep up.
Access means students and faculty find out about the stuff the library doesn’t own. That biologist used our interlibrary loan service for her literature review. Piece of cake: she makes a request online, has it delivered to her desktop in a few days. What she keeps forgetting is that the whole institution can only ask for five articles published in the last five years from any one journal. That’s five articles total, no matter whether the journal publishes 20 articles a year or over 1000. For one article requested by that biologist, the library paid a copyright fee that is about the cost of a book. But our science programs are important, vital. So we pony up for that article even though, unlike a book, she’s the only one who gets to use it.
Criminal negligence
Here’s the kicker: libraries can share a book among themselves until it falls apart, thanks to the first sale doctrine. But the only way libraries share articles is by making a copy. So we pay for the article because there’s no other way to get it and hope some other library will buy the book that that money would have bought.
Oh, one other thing I’d better explain. The street value of, say, a chemistry article is much higher than a piece of literary criticism. I mean, who the hell wants literary criticism? A few spaced-out eggheads, and they don’t have two nickels to rub together. But there are multinational interests out there that will pay a lot – a whole lot-for chemistry research. They’re in the business. They turn that information around, step on it a few times, and make serious money. Whenever one of the big outfits gets involved, the street value skyrockets – and libraries have to pay the going rate.
So, I’m in my library, paying for journals that mostly don’t get read, buying rights to articles for individuals to use and toss, and hoping like hell some other library will buy the books we need. I mean, at least one library’s going to buy a copy, right?
What a dope. Sure, I heard the ugly rumors that university presses are in trouble, that books that used to sell 3000 copies now are lucky to sell 300. I know there’s a crisis out there, but everybody calls it a “serials crisis.” I’m busy blaming Elsevier and Kluwer, telling the scientists to get their act together.
Only I wake up one morning and find out that thanks to me, Northeastern University Press is close to death. What was I thinking? Libraries need books, and books need publishers. They can’t survive on a handful of sales. I was making decisions that seemed right at the time, but now….
What kills me? I got into this business because I loved books. Some librarian I turned out to be.
Down those mean streets
Do you happen to know the Northeastern University Press personally? Well, I do. A terrific press. It put out a great line of books critiquing the criminal justice system. The authors were close to the street, knew what was going down, and wanted to make things better. They sure as hell weren’t in it for the money. Who’s going to publish those studies now, the Department of Justice? Not likely.
People think university presses are boring and stuffy and use big words nobody understands. But these publishers are risk-takers. Take Judith Levine’s Harmful to Minors: The Perils of Protecting Children from Sex (2002). Trade houses in New York City said “good book, but no way we can publish it. This stuff is radioactive.” So the University of Minnesota Press took it on – and got in a world of trouble with conservative critics and eventually its legislature. The press could have lost its funding, could have lost everything, but the publisher didn’t back down.
Just take a look at the Association of American University Presses web site (aaupnet.org/booksforunderstanding.html) to see what they’ve been covering. Same-sex marriage, race, civil liberties – risky stuff that is liable to tie Dr. Laura’s undies in a bunch, but that’s not going to stop them.
After 9/11, guess who rushed into the smoke and flames with the information people needed? You got it. You may think with those dorky bow ties and suspenders they can’t deal with an emergency, but they were there when it happened – and not just to look around and say, “Whoa, there’s going to be a big market for this,” bringing books out a year too late. University presses were so prepared, they published those books before we even knew we needed them.
What are we going to do next time if nobody publishes those books?
It haunts me. I don’t know if the Northeastern University Press is going to pull through. So I’m here to own up to what I did, because if we can’t stop this cycle, I have a terrible feeling it’s going to happen again.