Scented books?

 Charles Barnett in The Guardian: 

First, a confession: I have not read Jennifer L Armentrout’s latest novel, The Primal of Blood and Bone. Nor have I sniffed it, or licked it. Which might be an odd thing to do, but for the fact that a special edition of the romantasy book has been released with garlic-infused ink.

Armentrout is a hugely-successful “hybrid” author, both self- and traditionally published, and has made the New York Times bestseller list on numerous occasions. She writes in the currently insanely popular romantic fantasy market, and her new novel, the latest in a series, features vampire-analogy monsters called the Craven.

Enter stage right: Hellmann’s, which despite having exactly the sort of name you might find in a romantasy novel, is in fact a purveyor of mayonnaise and other table-top squirty condiments. Hellmann’s has teamed up with Armentrout and her publishers, Blue Box Press, to release a special edition of The Primal of Blood and Bone which is printed with ink mixed with their garlic aioli – the Craven being vampires, remember, and so averse to a bit of garlic.

This is, of course, is an attempt to grab the TikTok generation by the throat. Understandably so: the video-sharing social media platform has become one of the biggest book marketing opportunities for publishers in modern times.

And it is here, dear reader, that I heave a world-weary sigh and reveal myself to be yet another grumpy, middle-aged, largely unknown author waving his fist at the clouds in the style of Grampa Simpson and raging against the dying of the light … or at least, against the shift away from the seemingly outmoded idea of publishers just trying to sell books because, y’know, they’re books, and they’re good.

Just hold off typing that takedown in the comment box for one second and let me explain. Do I sound bitter? Of course I’m bitter. All writers are misanthropic sociopaths at heart. We’re bitter about everything. That’s why we make stuff up all the time, trying to imagine worlds we might not be quite as bitter about as this one.

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Barnett’s complaint about the cynicism and/or crassness and/or opportunism of the publishing industry is nothing new. It’s a business. However, it is a special kind of cultural business; it carries with it the mystique of a cultural enterprise that is idealistic and shaped by the standards of high culture in the sense that Adorno conceived it.