Why is the use of product placement important?

Why is that books can use product placement freely while TV shows need to rename products or blur things out (in the case of Reality TV)?

• For example I am reading An American Vampire. The author freely uses the names of products like Coca Cola in the text but if this book were made into a movie it is likely that the logo would not be front facing or the product would have some generic COLA label instead. In the case of Reality TV they blur things that seemingly don't even make sense like generic prints on a hotel room wall.

• Answer:

  If you wish to display Ipana toothpaste all over your situation comedy, you may do so, so long as you're not saying bad things about Ipana and Ipana's lawyers don't start sending cease-and-desist letters. Remember the unused but unmistakable Apple Macintosh in the background of Jerry Seinfeld's apartment. The issue gets messy only if you are being sponsored by, say, the manufacturers of Stripe toothpaste, and though Stripe itself isn't your sponsor, they think it would be nice if you showed a tube of Stripe. To avoid this nonsense, a director will often substitute a generic brand. This is why old-time TV shows from the 50s and 60s have so much no-name stuff in them.  It's not as noticeable in more recent TV drama (or movies), no doubt because they manage product-placement better. And audiences are different; today a no-name package of CAKE MIX would inject an unwanted zing of humor into your forensic crime drama. No-name might be work in your vampire movie, though; those flicks are expected to be ironic and aware. The same rule would apply in reality TV. There's almost no way to eliminate deliberate but surreptitious product placement by the participants, so a blanket no-product rule is the best solution. Similarly, participants in international track meets are often made to cover up manufacturer logos on their uniforms and spike bags. Getting back to old-time TV: for me, the silliest and most annoying byproduct of advertiser sensitivity was what happened when a car company sponsored a show. Chevrolet sponsored My Three Sons, so all the cars you see are Impalas and Biscaynes and Corvairs (not even a Buick!). That was scarcely noticeable, unlike Ford's sponsorship of Hazel. Here in the Baxters' neighborhood everyone drives a shiny new Falcon or Fairlane or Country Squire; with an occasional appearance of an enormous 1961 Thunderbird convertible (white, blood-red upholstery). It was a dose of unreality as jarring as the no-name cake mix, and so weird that they seldom if ever did this in feature films.