Check for $97

I've had an ongoing fight with an advertising book since October of 2005. I once believed in it, supported it and loved it. Others did too. And then someone with another opinion took over and after one brief paragraph the fight began.

"...simplistic...obvious...overstates...no startling features to distinguish it...." All punches to my fragile pride.  

Tony Campolo had said it was "a must read for anyone who is trying to critique our culture and stand against its debilitating effects." Ron Sider called it "an important, urgent, penetrating analysis of how today's pervasive materialism seduces us and how biblical faith liberates us." The president emeritus of Bread for the World said that it was stellar.

I loved this praise. I had worked hard, cared deeply and had a grand vision of pulling materialistic America out of its blind consumption, and I wasn't alone. Jean Kilbourne, famed for her relentless and articulate beef with Madison Avenue since the 70s, stood behind me. She said I had done "a masterful job of demonstrating how the 'simulated gospel' of advertising perverts and distorts Jesus's message of love and compassion."

But insecurity confuses all of this. It doubts. It entertains unprovable possibilities. She was just being nice. He was paid to do it. He didn't really read it - just liked the title and first few pages and gambled on it being good. I've thought a hundred variations like these, all reminders that the only opinion I really believed was the one that started the fight. These were its offspring. 

One year after its release, On Earth as It is in Advertising? Moving from Commercial Hype to Gospel Hope went out of print. I tried to forget about the whole thing until, several years later, Wipf & Stock Publishers asked if they could bring it back on a need to print basis. I didn't really care. Sure, I said. I disliked the new cover (I care enough about advertising to think it should be done well). They promised a dollar per copy and I signed. And then I forgot about it again.    

This morning I received a surprise check in the mail. Without telling my youngest daughter what it was for, I asked her to guess how much it might be worth. She said $5. I guessed $4.

It was $97. I'm not sure what to think about having sold 97 more copies of something collecting dust on the shelf and in my mind, but I smiled. Then not two minutes later I imagined a benefactor had set me up just like Pip in Great Expectations; someone nice and in the mood to send me a hug. Another doubt.  

This post may amount to being the worst book promotion ever, but I set out to write about a fight I continue having with myself, almost four decades old, book or no book. I'm haunted by fear and the criticism that lurks about.

Don't buy a copy because you feel bad for me. I've moved on in other ways. But if you want to read a simplistic, overstated, nothing new book that is simultaneously a masterfully demonstrated, important, urgent, penetrating analysis (See what goes on in mind?), you can find reviews and sources for the original here, or buy it direct from Wipf & Stock.

Better yet, call or email my favorite local bookstore, Hearts and Minds Books.

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The King of Madison Avenue. You know...Whats-His-Name

I love Grady Powell's opening paragraph in this week's Books and Culture review of The King of Madison Avenue. I'll hold off on giving you the subtitle for a moment to give you time to guess the king's name. (Hint: The book is about advertising.) Here are Powell's observation and a helpful question:

"[M]ost people would struggle to identify a national advertising agency, much less any of the copywriters, designers, or directors that produce our daily intake of commercials and billboards—with the possible exception of the fictional characters in Mad Men. The more advertising becomes central to our society, the more we take for granted its power to shape the way we think. Advertisers, like op-ed columnists, are trying to change your mind. Shouldn't you know who they are?"

Yes. But he's right: we don't.

I guess this isn't much different than not knowing who brings water into my home. Except for this: At least I know the water company's title and can reach a representative with a 1-800 number. Same with the men (and one woman) who pick up my trash. I don't know them, but I've seen them there in the alley and maybe even said "Thanks" a time or two when I ran out late with the recycling bin. The work these folks do has an enormous impact on my daily life. Imagine no more garbage haulers. Or no more water service.

It's different with advertising because there is no 1-800 number; no occasional vision of workers in the background, nobody to know. And yet they have and use "power to shape the way we think."

Maybe this is part of advertising's problem. If you've ever imagined being invisible, you've probably imagined a few bad things you could get away with. Even if it's just to be that invisible fly on the wall to overhear a dying-to-know conversation, invisibility is powerful and potentially dangerous.

What accountability is there in advertisers' relative anonymity?

Anonymity on the loose

Consider this: How would advertising change if every ad ended with customer service contact information? Not for the product, of course, but a number or address to reach the copywriter and art director behind the ad. Would it raise the bar? Would people actually call? Would consumers demand more honesty and better treatment? Would SimGospel advertising diminish?

As far back as 62 years ago, that consumer comment or complaint might have reached the desk of the eventual king of Madison Avenue, David Ogilvy. (Did you guess correctly?) Ogilvy was a famous copywriter who worked his way to the throne, and whether you've heard of him or not, he left behind tremendous influence on the world of advertising as we know it today.

There are good agencies out there. And there are Christian and non-Christian advertisers who exhibit the attributes of Christ in their advertising work. But Powell's observation reminds me of the importance of accountability and what good might come from having more of it.

Read Powell's review here.

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It's Jubilee Day and I have a little something for you

Today is Jubilee Day™, "the largest, longest running one-day street fair in the eastern part of the United States." For a small town like ours, 60,000 attendees is nothing to sneeze at. 

The Old Testament Jubilee Day was nothing to sneeze at either. You can read about it in Leviticus 25 and imagine what restoring justice, correcting misfortunes, liberating servants and the like would have done for small towns 3500 years ago (and what this list would do for us today). 

I'm not sure cotton candy or a puppet show will provide anything in the way of justice for me and the kids this afternoon, but I'm sure it will bring a bit of jubilation. And I thought I could bring a bit of jubilation to you, too.

On Earth as It is in Advertising?

I don't have any special prizes or kick up your heels deals, but in honor of all things Jubilee maybe I can make you a little happier and a little more aware of injustice with a book offer. In 2005, Brazos Press published On Earth as It is in Advertising? Moving from Commercial Hype to Gospel Hope. It was reprinted this spring by Wipf & Stock.

I don't talk much about On Earth for a couple of reasons: 1) Self-promotion feels salesy to me, and 2) An early negative review took wind out of my sails.

Yet it's a book about injustice that every TV-watching, magazine-reading, banner ad-viewing, mall-visiting human being encounters: Bad advertising. Because I care about work and its relationship to neighbors, and because I care about the specific work of advertising being done well and right, I consider "SimGospel" advertising to be an injustice.

Critics and Endorsers
Read the original Publishers Weekly review that dropped my sails (and sales) and then read the very different endorsements on the back cover. If you're looking for a Summer read, pick up a copy. (The reprint on the right has a different cover but the content is the same).

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El espejo de Oesed

"Oesed" is the name of a magical mirror in Harry Potter y la Piedra Filosofal. You probably know about this mirror already, but I'm just now getting through Rowling's first book...in Spanish. I'm trying to dust off my half-forgotten college major, and at this rate I should have the series read by 2068.

Anyway, as Harry finds out, the mirror "shows us no more and no less than the most profound and despairing desire of our hearts." That's why Harry's reflection shows him surrounded by his long-lost family. Harry lost his family at birth and his heart's desire is to know them. They look so real in the mirror that he tries to touch them, only to grasp air.

Harry's friend, Ronald, sees a different reflection. Because Ronald has always been outperformed by his brothers (and by Harry), the mirror shows Ronald as a team captain and a champion.

"There are men who have been consumed in front of the mirror," Harry is told, "fascinated by what they've seen. Or they've gone crazy, not knowing if what it shows them is real or even possible."

I can think of several images the mirror would show me. We all see something we wish we had.

Seeing the SimGospel
El espejo de Oesed makes me think about advertising. Many advertisers care more about moving products than loving customers. To that end, they listen to consumers' hearts solely to devise their own version of a magical mirror.

Curiously, this advertising mirror "shows us no more and no less than something similar to the most profound and despairing desire of our hearts." Not the true desire but something similar to it. This something similar is what I call the SimGospel in On Earth as It is in Advertising? Moving from Commercial Hype to Gospel Hope. SimGospel images in advertising associate so closely with the truth that we believe the consumption of them will lead us to the truth.

We can touch and buy these SimGospel images in stores, seemingly getting us closer to our desires than Harry can get to what he sees in el espejo. And so like "the men who have been consumed in front of the mirror" we, too, begin to go crazy. Just look at our current economy - a deranged product of consumed consumers. Heaven isn't available, but our behavior says we think otherwise.

Harry's mentor helped him see this before it was too late. We also need help. Advertisers must help us toward the truth, not imitate and manipulate us with the SimGospel. And consumers need to recognize what their hearts truly desire, and then wait for it.

Ven, Señor.

To learn more about On Earth as It is in Advertising, follow the links here to read reviews and to purchase a copy for yourself or for a friend who works in advertising.

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