A publishing powerhouse

Could a merger between Penguin and Random House stop Amazon in its tracks?

After the FT reported that talks had been held between two of the world’s “big six” publishers, Penguin and Random House, an official statement has finally been made. Pearson, the UK-listed education specialist (and the world’s single largest book publisher), who owns both Penguin and the FT, released the following announcement: “Pearson confirms that it is discussing with Bertelsmann a possible combination of Penguin and Random House. The two companies have no reached an agreement and there is no certainty that the discussion will lead to a transaction. A further announcement will be made if and when appropriate.”

Random House is owned by the German media conglomerate Bertelsmann, whose ill-fated merger with Sony (creating Sony-BMG) has left them anxious to take the lead on any potential deal. Thomas Rabe, Bertelsmann’s chief executive, commented on the “pitfalls of putting creative businesses together”, which mean that one side must take ultimate control. “We have the ambition to lead,” he said.

A merger between the two companies – whose brands, it should be noted, are distinct and unlikely to be hastily dissolved – would create a 25 per cent market share, large enough to come under scrutiny from the OFT and Competition Commission. A second factor which may hinder a potential merger is the ongoing allegations of price-fixing in the US, a suit which Penguin has repeatedly contested.

The elephant in the room, as ever, is Amazon. The internet retailer, whose UK business operates from the company’s base in Luxembourg, continues to plough millions into its ebook infrastructure despite huge losses. Described by Waterstones head James Daunt as a “ruthless, money-making devil” and of “using authors as a financial football” by Curtis Brown chairman Jonathan Lloyd, the company facilitates and encourages self-publishing, which perhaps signals the endgame of their repeated attempts to undermine present publishing models. “Penguin House” may just have the reputation, power and resources to stop the internet giant in its tracks.

Phil Jones, editor of the publishing trade magazine The Bookseller, said: “The merger of Penguin and Random house would create a powerhouse of a consumer publisher across books, ebooks and apps.” Analyst Lorna Tilbian from Numis Securities concurs: “Consolidation is the order of the day,” she said. “Technology and tablet computers have given it extra momentum. They [publishers] have got to gang together to have enough clout to take on the technology giants that have transformed the industry.”

Update: This morning the merger between Penguin and Random House was confirmed. Check out The Bookseller for more information.

Berthold Lubetkin's Penguin Pool at London Zoo (Photograph: Getty Images)

Philip Maughan is a freelance writer in Berlin and a former Assistant Editor at the New Statesman.

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Why does food taste better when we Instagram it?

Delay leads to increased pleasure when you set up a perfect shot of your dinner.

Been on holiday? Take any snaps? Of course you did – but if you’re anything like me, your friends and family didn’t make it into many of them. Frankly, I can only hope that Mr Whippy and I will still be mates in sixty years, because I’m going to have an awful lot of pictures of him to look back on.

Once a decidedly niche pursuit, photographing food is now almost as popular as eating it, and if you thought that the habit was annoying at home, it is even worse when it intrudes on the sacred peace of a holiday. Buy an ice cream and you’ll find yourself alone with a cone as your companion rushes across a four-lane highway to capture his or hers against the azure sea. Reach for a chip before the bowl has been immortalised on social media and get your hand smacked for your trouble.

It’s a trend that sucks the joy out of every meal – unless, that is, you’re the one behind the camera. A new study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology suggests that taking pictures of food enhances our pleasure in it. Diners at the food court of a farmers’ market in Philadelphia were asked either to photograph their meal or to eat “as you normally would”, then were questioned about how they found it. Those in the photography group reported that not only did they enjoy their meal more, but they were “significantly more immersed in the experience” of eating it.

This backs up evidence from previous studies, including one from this year in the Journal of Consumer Marketing, which found that participants who had been asked to photograph a red velvet cake – that bleeding behemoth of American overindulgence – later rated it as significantly tastier than those who had not.

Interestingly, taking a picture of a fruit salad had no effect on its perceived charms, but “when descriptive social norms regarding healthy eating [were] made salient”, photographing these healthier foods did lead to greater enjoyment. In other words, if you see lots of glossy, beautifully lit pictures of chia seed pudding on social media, you are more likely to believe that it’s edible, despite all the evidence to the contrary.
This may seem puzzling. After all, surely anything tastes better fresh from the kitchen rather than a protracted glamour shoot – runny yolks carefully split to capture that golden ooze, strips of bacon arranged just so atop plump hemispheres of avocado, pillowy burger buns posed to give a glimpse of meat beneath. It is hardly surprising that 95 million posts on Instagram, the photo-sharing site, proudly bear the hashtag #foodporn.

However, it is this delay that is apparently responsible for the increase in pleasure: the act of rearranging that parsley garnish, or moving the plate closer to the light, increases our anticipation of what we are about to eat, forcing us to consider how delicious it looks even as we forbid ourselves to take a bite until the perfect shot is in the bag. You could no doubt achieve the same heightened sense of satisfaction by saying grace before tucking in, but you would lose the gratification that comes from imagining other people ogling your grilled Ibizan sardines as they tuck in to an egg mayonnaise at their desk.

Bear in mind, though, that the food that is most successful on Instagram often has a freakish quality – lurid, rainbow-coloured bagel-croissant hybrids that look like something out of Frankenstein’s bakery are particularly popular at the moment – which may lead to some unwise menu choices in pursuit of online acclaim.

On the plus side, if a diet of giant burgers and salted-caramel lattes leaves you feeling queasy, take heart: if there is one thing that social media likes more than #avotoast, it is embarrassing oversharing. After a week of sickening ice-cream shots, a sickbed selfie is guaranteed to cheer up the rest of us. 

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser