After a Winkle-ish hiatus
We retrofit the old afflatus,
Consult our Siri or other tech aid
To limn in verse the recent decade.

The Kindle launched the e-book era,
Some scoffed but it was no chimera.
Retailers in all the nations
Succumbed to Amazon’s predations.
Revenues attained the max
(It helped that they paid little tax).

But now we’ve lived to see it dwindle
Ten years from the launch of Kindle.
The presto beat has slowed to lento
While print enjoys risorgimento.

Children, elderly, and teens,
All seem inclined to spurn their screens.
We love the paper book’s allure,
News of its death is premature.

Len Riggio, who once inspired
Mortal fear, is soon retired.
Of Amazon he’s had his fill
(He’ll salve his pain with half a bil).

A great shellacking Lenny took
When customers forsook the Nook.
His book chain’s tzuris soon grew chronic.
And don’t you think it quite ironic,
Seeing this titan mired in trouble
And feeling bad for... Barnes & Noble?

Borders died and went to heaven,
Drank the draught of Chapter 7.
Beginning of the end foretold?
Nope! Put that augury on hold,
For though the chain was liquidated
Our worst-case fears were mitigated.

A mighty horde of little shops,
Run by zealous moms and pops,
Sprang from the rubble underneath
Like that host from Cadmus’s teeth.
A Dunkirk rescue for our stores
To bring back bookshops to our shores.

Self-pubbed authors by the score
Enlisted others in their corps,
Advocating insurrection
From establishment subjection.
Alas, they learned success depends
On sales to family and friends.
The ancient proverb’s still conclusive:
The wealth of indies is elusive.

We learned to format deals for lunch,
Our hype compressed to one long munch,
A style devised by Michael Cader
With log lines longer than a seder.

Hope died hard that Penguin/Random
Just might coexist in tandem.
Years of speculation ended
When the two at last were blended.

Wielding scimitar, the Turk
Performed his nasty severance work.
A day that everyone had dreaded,
Even imprints were beheaded.
Perseus, great Zeus’s son,
Deciding that his days were done,
A pair of twins did he beget,
One named Ingram, one Hachette.
Thus, rent in twain, no more to mend,
Did the Perseid Dynasty end.

In the beginning was the word,
Once was read but now is heard.
The audiobook now reigns supreme
On CD, tape cassette, and stream,
Headphones, ear buds, iPods, jacks
Have all replaced mass paperbacks.

Readers swapped their jones for fiction
For a coloring book addiction.
The market’s in the pink of health,
Color it bright green for wealth.
No matter what the hue or tint,
Every imprint made a mint.
Nary a publisher sang the blues,
You had to be a dope to lose.

And speaking of Trump...

Will Donald’s coup election night
Propel our business to the right?
Will liberal authors be endangered,
It Takes a Village (sob!) remaindered?
But consider yourself by fortune kissed
If there’s a Trump book on your list.

The trade of gentlemen in sooth
Is now a gig performed by youth
With texts and messaging equipped,
Macro keyed and microchipped.

And marketing and social media,
Facebook, Twitter, Wikipedia.
They say change is an idle dream,
The more things change the same they seem.
Check back with us a decade hence
To learn if publishing still makes sense.

Richard Curtis has been described as the greatest literary agent on East 72nd Street between New York City’s Second and Third Avenues.