On Race And Publishing

I feel compelled to call attention to this post by the magnificent Justine Larbalestier. In it she discusses her grave disappointment that her publisher elected to put a white girl on the cover of her new novel, Liar, despite the fact that the protagonist is a black girl.I am not an expert in either publishing or race issues, but I think it's worth considering what the causes and consequences of these kinds of actions really are.The thinking among many people in sales and marketing is that "black covers don't sell." This easily extends to the even more pernicious truism: "black books don't sell." This then leads to the still more pernicious trend of segregating books by and about black people into the "urban fiction" section of your local book store.I despise the word "urban" when it is used as a code for black. I recall encountering this usage back when I was film producer and my company spun off a separate division to make "urban films." These were low budget digital video productions featuring rap artists basically committing crimes and killing each other, which, I assume the thinking went, is what "urbans" wanted to watch.But let's pause to consider the ways in which this situation can become a self-fulfilling prophesy.You're a young African American girl in the book store (or video store, if they still exist). All around, you see books and videos with white folks on the cover. Because you live in a world where white culture is considered "neutral," you're sort of used to this and have developed the necessary gift of interracial empathy--that is, you can watch and read stories about white people and enjoy them because, after all, what choice do you have.But then, lo and behold, over there in the far corner by the bathrooms, you see a small shelf crammed with black faces. Maybe you're drawn to it because wouldn't it be nice, once in a while, to read a book by and/or about people who look like you. So you pick up Coe Booth's, Kendra and take it to the register.Now, you're an "urban." You read "urban" fiction. The market has just been splintered. And you are officially an outsider. So is Coe Booth, by the way.Now imagine a contrary scenario. You're that same African American girl, browsing the young adult section of your local book store. Most of the covers feature white faces, but here and there, in and among the white faces, are some black faces, including Coe Booth's Kendra. Over the months and years, you notice that more and more books feature black faces on the cover. You buy some of them. The transactions are the same whether you pick up the books over here or from the "urban" section, but here's the difference:You're not being segregated and neither are the authors.What, I ask you, is the point of this segregation? Why do we need to divide our novels, our movies, and so much else into separate demographic categories? Who wins here?And who loses?