posted on 12 Sep 2024

If you’re going to sign, do it properly

I’m very fond of a signed book - it’s something I’ve written about at some length on this site before. I especially like meeting an author to get one or two of my books signed and being able to get them to personalise a message to accompany the signature. I know that for some collectors or dealers a dedication is anathema but they want the signature for purely commercial reasons where I’m thinking more of this as a personalised cementing of my admiration for the author’s skill.

There was a time when a signed book was a rarity. The only way to get a book signed was a fortuitous meeting with the author, a dedication from an author who was also a friend or acquaintance or, possibly, if you could get your hands on one of the few special limited editions that were sometimes produced at premium rates for richer collectors.

The growing prevalence of literary festivals has certainly expanded the opportunities for a wider audience to get to meet authors, albeit briefly, and get their book inscribed. Book signings, in fact, have been pounced on by publishers and some authors as a key marketing tool - especially for first authors and more established writers needing to shift large numbers of ‘units’.

So popular has the signed book become that publishers how sit their authors down to sign copies in advance of them actually hitting the bookshops. Pop into most independent bookshops and you’ll find that there are whole sections displaying the signed new releases that are available. Most of these signed copies are purchased, I suspect, in the hope that they will become ‘collectable’ in some way - but most of them never will.

Every now and then I feel sorry for the poor author faced with a small hillock of books to sign - slaving over them until their pen-hand cramps and they forget how to spell their name. But recently I’ve found my sympathy being strained to breaking point by what seems to be becoming a troubling tendency - signed copies containing an indecipherable squiggle passing itself off as a fully-fledged autograph.

In recent times I’ve lost count of the amount of ‘exclusive signed copies’ I’ve picked up, opened at the signing page and found something that looks like a child has got there first with a felt-tip pen or a Sharpie. There’s not a recognisable name: nothing a bank would accept on a cheque or a solicitor might expect on a book contract. What, I’m moved to think, has this cipher, this rune, this spasm in ink got to do with the name on the front of the book?

Of course, not all authors resort to the disinterested squiggle and often their fulsome, even extravagant, signatures are a delight - and those that abide by that unspoken contract between author and reader when signing a book should be congratulated for that.

I’ve been careful not to name names here but for those authors who think an inky rune will do, I have one message : Come on! This is just taking your readers - the people buying your books - for idiots. Signing books may be an onerous part of your job but, for heaven’s sake, if you’re going to sign books, do it properly. We want to be able to see and read a name - it’s not that difficult.

 

Terry Potter

September 2024