When I first picked this up, I thought it'd be a meditation on what it means to be within a superfandom (such as SuperWhoLock on tumblr, as the kids say). The subtitle should've clued me in: this is actually about how fandoms and identity with them influence our consumption.

Which is not necessarily a bad thing, nor is it new: after the prologue vignette of the authors' own experience with their company Squishable during a virtual Facebook party on the night Hurricane Sandy rolled into town, the first chapter opens on musicophilia/Lizstomania that hit Western civilization in the mid-1800s. Fans, regardless of purchasing power, obsessed by stalking outside musicians' homes, collecting ticket stubs, bribing house staff to actually *enter* some of those said homes. The second chapter begins with Berkshire Hathaway's annual stockholder's meeting, which has become a capitalist comic-con around the Oracle of Omaha and the promise of wealth by association (an aside: my grandparents went once and totally bought a mattress from the furniture store mentioned).

What *has* changed is the relationship between consumers and producers. A small but vocal minority can angrily clog Makers' Mark's feeds after a lower proof to meet increased demand is announced. An organized facebook group can raise money to buy a billboard outside Coca Cola's Atlanta headquarters begging for the return of Surge. Fan consumption doesn't even necessarily have to be a physical good- the experience economy means that Kickstarters can offer one-on-one skype sessions or game nights at a high donation tier and people will pay for the rare experience. Patreon has arisen as a way for fans to support content creators without fussing with physical goods (and although a new website, is in some ways a throwback to literal patrons of the Renaissance except instead of one wealthy donor, it's lots of smaller ones that buy into ownership).

I suspect this was written for people who read business books, as they authors took care to define fan terms and explain things like Cards Against Humanity antics (a whole chapter, actually, in how corporate ethos does not equal corporate values. CAH cares about their customers and will fix the problem first, and THEN rib you because that is their brand). Definitely an interesting read for those within fan communities (the authors do talk about in-group feelings from being part of a fandom), and a read for anyone who's curious about how capitalism influences the culture (or is influenced by). ( )

read my review on my blog to see photos
http://theliteratequilter.blogspot.com/2017/05/superfandom-how-our-obessions-are...

I started quilting in 1991 and by 1992 it was how I spent most of my leisure time.

I hoarded quilt fabric, driving up to an hour or two to quilt shops. There were 'had to buy' quilt books. I joined a monthly quilt guild and a weekly quilt group and attended local quilt shows. I took quilt classes to learn new techniques and I subscribed to the important quilt magazines.

As my husband's work took us across Michigan, everywhere we went I quickly identified other quilt addicts.

Like most quilters, I discovered which national quilt teachers, writers, and artists inspired me. I bought their books, took classes with them, followed them online, and bought the fabric lines they designed.

I had become a quilting superfan.

In the 'old days' quilters bought cheap fabric, made cardboard or paper templates, and with a pair of scissors, needle, and thread and made a quilt. Today, quilters purchase fabric that costs over $10 a yard and buy ready made kits with pattern and fabric included. They have machines to cut patches or applique shapes, fuse applique pieces instead of hand stitching them, and pay long arm machine quilters hundreds of dollars to quilt their quilt top. National shows and quilt retreats mean overnight stays at expensive hotels, and there are even quilt cruises or trips abroad. Quilting has become big business and an expensive hobby.

Reading Zoe Fradde-Blanar and Arron M. Glazer's new book Superfandom I realized how I had become a superfan without realizing it.

The authors are the founders of Squishable.com, Inc, which produces stuffed animals for the teen and adult market--Squishable Cthulhus and Grim Reapers. They even have States of Happiness, so if you love California or Michigan you can now, well, squish them.

In the preface they tell the story creating a prototype Shiba Inu Squishable. The Kickstarter concept art was well received: a red dog with circular eye patches. But when fans saw the actual toy the fans complained. It was all wrong. To keep the fans happy they had a virtual Halloween party--in the middle of a hurricane that hit New York City in 2012.

Our Shiba, Suki
I know Shiba Inus. We have had four since 1991. Our first Shiba was home bred, her daddy champion stock. But few Americans had heard of Shibas and the breeder could not find buyers. We got our Kili cheap; it was the best $250 we ever spent. She gave us over 16 years of happiness.

Over those 16 years we bought Shiba calanders, rooted for the Shiba in the television dog shows, bought Shiba Christmas ornaments--and my brother made me a Shiba key rack.

By the time we adopted our second Shiba the breed had become the Internet sensation known as Doge.

Doge
Our (once) unusual, beloved bred suddenly was appearing on television commercials, on dog toys and pet food, and all over the Internet. We were Shiba fans before we were Superfans.

Our son funded a kickstarter for a role playing game aimed for younger children and featuring dogs. He paid to have our Shibas appear in the art work:



Now that is Superfandom.

The book dissects fandom, the motivation behind our affiliation with a sport, a cartoon character, book or movie series, why we attend Trekkie conventions and Renaissance Fairs, and invest our money, time, and emotional commitment in fan objects.

In a world where affiliation to family, place, church, or school has been disrupted by mobility, we need to find community, a common love, people 'like us'. Now we buy our way into social networks with an Apple phone, concert T-shirt, or even with a trendy dog to walk.

I received a free book from the publisher in exchange for a fair and unbiased review. ( )