“Eight straight years of double-digit revenue growth is simply phenomenal,” concludes Chris Lynch, co-chair of the APA’s Research Committee. “Even more encouraging are the continued upward trends in consumer listening behavior – both in how many titles they listen to per year and in their finding more time in their day to listen.”
What’s more, Edison Research’s national survey found that the average number of audiobooks listened to per year jumped to 8.1 in 2020 – a 1.3 increase compared to last year.
Audiobooks continue to rise in popularity among younger generations, with a little over half of all frequent audiobook listeners being under the age of 45. Quality of narration plays a key role – both non-fiction and fiction lovers prefer professional voice actors to the author as a narrator.
In terms of the most popular audiobook genre, Mysteries/Thrillers/Suspense takes the crown third year in a row, with almost four out of ten respondents saying they listen to books of this genre the most.
Interestingly, 60% of respondents own a smart speaker, but less than half of them use their devices to listen to audiobooks. Nevertheless, the share of audiobook listeners among smart speaker owners increased to 46% from 31% in 2019.
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Fascinated by how books influence culture and society, and especially keen on fiction. Still not fully convinced to ebooks, Kasia reads on a Kindle from time to time. But, whenever possible, she'll always pick print.
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Coriolanus released the fistful of cabbage into the pot of boiling water and swore that one day it would never pass his lips again. But this was not that day. He needed to eat a large bowl of the anemic stuff, and drink every drop of broth, to prevent his stomach from growling during the reaping ceremony. It was one of a long list of precautions he took to mask the fact that his family, despite residing in the penthouse of the Capitol’s most opulent apartment building, was as poor as district scum. That at eighteen, the heir to the once-great house of Snow had nothing to live on but his wits.
His shirt for the reaping was worrying him. He had an acceptable pair of dark dress pants bought on the black market last year, but the shirt was what people looked at. Fortunately, the Academy provided the uniforms it required for daily use. For today’s ceremony, however, students were instructed to be dressed fashionably but with the solemnity the occasion dictated. Tigris had said to trust her, and he did. Only his cousin’s cleverness with a needle had saved him so far. Still, he couldn’t expect miracles.
The shirt they’d dug from the back of the wardrobe—his father’s, from better days—was stained and yellowed with age, half the buttons missing, a cigarette burn on one cuff. Too damaged to sell in even the worst of times, and this was to be his reaping shirt? This morning he had gone to her room at daybreak, only to find both his cousin and the shirt missing. Not a good sign. Had Tigris given up on the old thing and braved the black market in some last-ditch effort to find him proper clothing? And what on earth would she possess worth trading for it? Only one thing—herself—and the house of Snow had not yet fallen that far. Or was it falling now as he salted the cabbage?