First published in 1921 and in print ever since, Satow’s “A Diplomat in Japan” is the best eyewitness account of the turmoil that engulfed Japan in the run-up to the 1868 Meiji Restoration. Or as the snappy subtitle has it: “The inner history of the critical years in the evolution of Japan when the ports were opened and the monarchy restored by a diplomatist who took an active part in the events of the time, with an account of his personal experiences during that period”. Book marketing is certainly one area where progress has been made in the past century.

Satow’s real strength is as an observer and participant in the history of Japan at the time; his superb language skills allowing him to meet and befriend many of the key players in this restoration drama. This book actually downplays his own importance in persuading his diplomatic superiors to throw Great Britain’s covert support behind the pro-Imperial rebels, a diplomatic coup that left Satow’s homeland in the box seat once the Imperialists took power. Satow’s prose is smoothly functional, and in his sympathy  for the dilemmas faced by the contemporary Japanese and his respect for the local culture Satow’s humanity is clearly evident. There are even glimpses of an ultra-dry sense of humour behind the Victorian facade.

The downsides of “A Diplomat in Japan” relate to the poor quality of the editions available. Mine is the 2000 ICG/Tuttle version, which is littered with typos, has tiny font, uses the outdated spellings of Japanese names and places that Satow used but that are tough on the modern reader (e.g. Kioto and Ozaka for Kyoto and Osaka). Even the cover, with its stern picture of the late middle-aged Satow from his much later second posting to Japan, rather than the young diplomat that actually experienced these events, is poorly done. The book is also too long for all but the dedicated historian: there is a gap in this admittedly small market for an abbreviated version aimed at the more general reader.

“A Diplomat in Japan” is not always the easiest of reads, but it remains obligatory for anyone with an interest in this period of history.

Oscar Wilde famously defined a cynic as someone who knew the price of everything but the value of nothing. Self-published authors run the danger of becoming the opposite. We know the value of our books - as measured in blood, sweat and tears - but have little idea how much to charge for e-book copies of our labour of love. Should we set a price of $9.99 because like L’Oreal models we’re worth it? Should we charge $0.99 in imitation of Amanda Hocking in the hope that like her we’ll sell in the millions? Or something inbetween because that vaguely seems about right?

I set the price of “Milligan and the Samurai Rebels” at $4.99 for the first eight months it was on sale, pitching it lower than the price of an e-book by an established author but higher than that for those novels at the trashier end of the scale and/or aimed at the more cost-consciousness younger person market. That still seems about right in terms of value. But as the self-publishing advice manuals say, authors should forget “value” or “worth”. This is not a moral question: price should be set to maximise sales and earnings. Er...OK, but there seems to be a trade-off between those.

This last week I have tried my first experiment, dropping the e-book price to $0.99 (buy before Monday, 11th February - go on, do it now before you miss the bargain of a lifetime weekend!). Because at this lower price I only get 30% from Amazon, not the 70% I was getting at the previous price, my revenue per book has fallen to one-tenth of what it was. And sales? Well, they have doubled, so price does make a difference. From a strictly economic perspective this is a disaster - income from e-book sales is down 80% - but then I’m selling more and like most self-published authors I’m not in this only or even primarily for the money. Let’s see what happens when the price goes back up next week. 

The most interesting part of this experiment is that sales in the US - my and most authors’ largest e-book market - have only slightly ticked up. But sales in the UK have increased dramatically at the lower price. My fellow Brits - you’re cheap b*stards!