Sixty-five million dollars is a lot of money for a book that Barack Obama said he would have written anyway—a labor of love, and part of a narrative to “train the next generation.” He has a lot to say, a “writerly sensibility” primed to be set loose on the page. And, helpfully, the (so far) two-time memoirist now has a post-presidential platform to deliver his thoughts to the common readership and adoring commentariat. At a cost, naturally.
The advance—upper-end estimates are, incidentally, the same price as a Gulfstream G650, the holy grail of private jets—spans two books, according to the Financial Times who reported the 65 million dollar figure. One the former president already promised his fans, and the other to come from the former first lady—perhaps another cookbook, something in the stretchy self-help genre, or a political memoir to tee up a career she keeps saying she doesn’t want. Penguin Random House won a bidding war to publish both internationally, snatching up the former president from his previous publisher.
It’s increasingly common for publishers to bid monstrous sums for a profitable manuscripts yet unwritten, particularly for a likely blockbuster from a “known entity.” A surefire revenue stream is worth the whopping investment in an increasingly uncertain industry. Plus, any advance worth whispering about—High six-figure? Low seven? Eight!?—generates free-ish publicity all on its own. And comparing big-name authors’ advances adds grist to gossip mill by stoking public rivalries, only more so in the political arena.
Back in 1996, Hillary Clinton received no advance for It Takes a Village and donated the bestseller’s proceeds to charity. So,twenty years later, she tried to make up for it. Hillary’s advance for Hard Choices clocked in at a pretty pathetic $8 million, even sadder given the industry assumption her campaign would, per standard practice, buy up copies in bulk. (For comparison: Megyn Kelly, whose star rose last year as she sparred with then-candidate Trump, landed a buzzy book deal—believed to exceed the $9 million Amy Schumer brought in for The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo.)
Before the Obamas hauled in their unheard-of loot, the last record-breaking advance for a political memoir was Bill Clinton’s My Life—which brought in $15 million in 2004, or 19 million in 2016 dollars. Altogether, adjusting for inflation, the Clintons clock in $38 million behind America’s new favorite power couple in repose. The rewards of honorary chairmanship and corporate speaking circuit, such as they are in Trump’s America, won’t easily fill that wage gap.
But, readers will shell out to relive hope and change. Or so Penguin Random House is happy to wager. Obama, an author and self-styled “writerly persona,” never won desired recognition for his writing until his political prominence gave it popular appeal: Dreams from My Father, a 1995 memoir from recent law school graduate Barack Obama, wasn’t an officially certified masterpiece until
The Audacity of Hope, much more on-message, was less human and heavier with the campaign sloganism. It’s hard to imagine Obama pen’s will be able to shake off the platitudinous habits of legacy-minding in his first year out of office. And, as a former publishing executive told me, a learned dependency on yesmen hurts good writers who bring in big advances. An author’s popularity and influence build up their asking power—and their resistance to editing. In other words, fame and money diminish the quality of what’s published.
A former president known for his cool self-regard, who once wanted to make it as a writer and still prides himself on a “writerly sensibility”—now, an exorbitantly valued one—will be far less liable than his younger self to accept the editing that a good book requires. Plus there won’t be any mercantile reason to submit to it. At that’s just the point: Huge advances based on prestige already tell us the author’s name is a better selling point than whatever he comes up with to fill the pages. The forthcoming Obama book doesn’t have to be any good to justify its price tag—and, if we’re to judge by the law of huge advances, it probably won’t be.
