Hard Lessons in Publishing

Why keep flogging? Well, for one thing, I'm not so sure this horse is dead; the scandal surrounding Harlequin's Vintage Collection continues to spread. Scandal... not too strong a word, is it? After all, here we have a publisher that took six novels, tinkered with grammar and spelling, substituted phrases, removed any and all scenes it thought offensive, and then sold the results as being identical to the originals.

So, yes... scandal. And like any scandal, information trickles forth like the drool collected by Miles Copperthwaite. Today, an interview with associate editor Adrienne Macintosh: "The Inside Scoop on the Harlequin Vintage Collection".

There are no tricky questions here – the interviewer is a fellow employee – but taken with executive editor Marsha Zinberg's Harlequin blog post, it does provide a revealing glimpse into Harlequin's culture. We learn, for example, that only eight books were considered for the series, each chosen on the basis of cover alone. Something called Nine to Five by some guy named Harvey Smith was dropped because it was too long and boring, while Anneke de Lange's Anna... I'll let Ms Macintosh explain:

From the cover you might think the story was about... er, well, rolling in the hay. But that couldn't be further from the truth. Let's just say that the plot involves jealousy, hatred, physical abuse, rape, suicide, murder, racism, adultery, a couple of unwanted pregnancies and a mother so unlikeable that you are actually glad when she’s stabbed by her son. In any case, that one was nixed.

Ms Macintosh and Ms Zinberg each express ignorance of their company's origins, surprise at the grittiness of pulp fiction, make a big deal over having had texts retyped, and see considerable changes in our language:

Ms Zinberg: "Also, grammar and spelling standards have changed quite a bit in sixty years."

Ms Macintosh: "Grammar and spelling has [sic] also changed quite a bit in the past sixty years..."

We're informed, for example, that "loogan" is no longer in use.

Loogan?

Here's Philip Marlowe with a definition:

"What's a loogan?"

"A guy with a gun."

"Are you a loogan?"

"Sure," I laughed. "But strictly speaking a loogan is a guy on the wrong side of the fence."

These words come from The Big Sleep. I found them in Stories and Early Novels, the first in the Library of America's two-volume Raymond Chandler collection. Now, as a nonprofit publisher "dedicated to preserving the works of America's greatest writers in handsome, enduring volumes, featuring authoritative editions", Library of America is pretty well everything Harlequin is not. Recognition of this fact raises the question: Are we being too hard on this multi-national?

I don't think so. After all, each title in the Harlequin collection bears a message from its president and CEO stating: "it is such fun to be able to present these works with their original text and cover art".

It appears the Vintage Collection, which both editors thought would be such a simple project, became a burden because they encountered challenges only too familiar to those who work at other houses; little things like trying to track down copyright (at which they failed). In short, these editors were out of their depths; and still know not of what they speak. How else to explain Ms Macintosh's absurd assumption: "These are fifty-, sixty-year-old books. The authors have passed away".

RIP Mavis Gallant. RIP Farley Mowat.

Related posts:

Harlequin's Change of Heart

Covering Up the Past

Covering Up the Past

Harlequin? Really? Again?

Look, I'm more surprised than anyone at the number of times the publisher has appeared in this blog. Sure, it spews forth more books per annum than any other, but nothing in the last four decades has been even remotely interesting. And yet, Harlequin features in so many posts: those dealing with Brian Moore, Arthur Stringer, Gay Canadian Rogues, drug paperbacks, News Stand Library and, of course, its own 60th anniversary celebrations. I've had few kind words – and was, perhaps, a touch harsh about their SoHo gallery show – so, I felt pretty good about drawing attention to their series of vintage reissues a couple of months ago. "Whoever is overseeing this thing has done a very nice job", I wrote at the time.

Well, that person turns out to be Executive Editor Marsha Zinberg, who a few weeks later wrote about the collection on Harlequin's blog. Interesting stuff, it goes some way to explaining their strange choice of titles. "We wanted books whose cover art appealed to us," writes the editor, "and we had to be in physical possession of the book, but in some cases, once we started reading the text, we simply couldn’t see publishing the story, for a host of reasons….content, language, political correctness, etc. Several were eliminated, no matter how striking the cover!"

Then, Ms Zinberg casually drops a bomb:

Remember, our intention was to publish the stories in their original form. But once we immersed ourselves in the text, our eyes grew wide. Our jaws dropped. Social behavior — such as hitting a woman — that would be considered totally unacceptable now was quite common sixty years ago. Scenes of near rape would not sit well with a contemporary audience, we were quite convinced. We therefore decided to make small adjustments to the text, only in cases where we felt scenes or phrases would be offensive to a 2009 readership. Also, grammar and spelling standards have changed quite a bit in sixty years.

So, there you have it: not reissues, but bowdlerized editions designed for we sensitive, semi-literate souls of the 21st century. How strange, then, that Ms Zinberg should end her post:

Everyone in house has taken such interest and pride in this project, and we're delighted that the collection is now out in the marketplace. We hope they will also accomplish what the cover art exhibition attempted to do: "offer a unique insight into the profound changes that have occurred in women’s lives over the past six decades — from shifts in private desires to shifts in the politics of gender"!

Yes, profound changes that appear much less so thanks to the censor's blood red pen.

The comments section of Ms Zinberg's post indicates that initial reaction was quite positive. "Marsha, what a great story!" writes Harlequin author Jean Brashear. "What a fascinating journey!" chimes in unbiased stablemate Jeannie Watt. With one exception, all were quite friendly and congratulatory until late last week when it seems the post was discovered by pulp collectors. I can add nothing to their comments.

The truth out, I take back my complimentary words about the series and its editor. The kindest observation I'm able to offer at this point is that Harlequin has not seen fit to remove the post or comments from its blog.

Not yet, away.

Related posts:

Harlequin's Change of Heart

Hard Lessons in Publishing

First Ignored, then Slighted

A most welcome new blog, Fly-by-night, aims to shine some light on Canada's early paperback publishers. It seems such a daunting task; not because they were many in number, but because so little attention as been paid by our literary historians, biographers and bibliographers. Take, for example, Collins White Circle, an imprint of the esteemed William Collins Sons' Canadian branch: 429 titles published over a ten year period and not a mention in The Canadian Encyclopedia, Encyclopedia of Canadian Literature, or The Perilous Trade, Roy MacSkimming's 2003 history of Canadian publishing. The History of the Book in Canada – published in three volumes, amounting to 1837 pages – devotes a mere five sentences to the imprint.

It seems that even when it was around, White Circle went unrecognized by literary types. As evidence I point to a piece by critic William Arthur Deacon in the 29 November 1947 edition of the Globe and Mail, which credits the Reprint Society of Canada for returning Stephen Leacock's "masterpiece" Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town to print. This, despite the fact that since 1942 the book had been available as a White Circle paperback. Writing in the paper two months later, Deacon builds upon his error, praising the Society for, amongst other things, offering "the only extant edition of Leacock's Sunshine Sketches".

Collins' correction inspired this unsigned slight:

Yes, yes, yes... and Orillia has more than four buildings... and not all have red roofs... and steam engines aren't typically dwarfed by sheds. Honestly, why not just own up to the mistake and move on?

The Globe and Mail adds insult by printing the criticism beside an advert for, of all people, the Reprint Society of Canada.

And in related news: Word comes in the form of an email that Harlequin's Vintage Collection was a one time thing. "At the present time, there are no plans to reissue more vintage books", writes customer service agent Angela. Those who'd put money aside for a David Montrose or Thomas P. Kelley reissue may wish to consider instead a Ronald J. Cooke The House on Craig Street address book.

Harlequin's Change of Heart

I've taken more than a few shots – here and elsewhere – at that great Canadian success story known as Harlequin Enterprises and its reluctance to acknowledge its varied past. As evidence, I point to that peculiar corporate exhibit of last May, which included only passing recognition the publisher's first fifteen years. And then there's this bullying of a BC bookseller. Never mind, today I come to praise Harlequin for what it refers to as its 'Vintage Collection'. The publisher hasn't exactly been trumpeting this new 'miniseries' – there doesn't appear to have been any attempt at publicity and no mention is made on its main page (so, I provide this link). Again, never mind. Whoever is overseeing this thing has done a very nice job; and the books, which should appear in bookstores this month, are very reasonably priced.

Looking at the first six titles, it's pretty clear that Harlequin has focused on novels in which women feature prominently. Fine, I understand the concept of branding. Disappointment rears its head only with the realization that there are no Canadian books amongst this first batch. While I'm not expecting Wreath for a Redhead or The Executioners, both disowned by author Brian Moore, I hold out hope that November's offerings will feature something of this vast, fair Dominion.

And so, I present this modest three title wish list.

The Body on Mount Royal

David Montrose

Winnipeg: Harlequin, 1953

A mystery featuring Russell Teed, the hard-working, hard-drinking, Montreal private dick at the centre of The Crime on Cote des Neiges (Collins White Circle, 1951) and Murder Over Dorval (Collins White Circle, 1952). Not only is The Body on Mount Royal the darkest of the three, it has a cover that Harlequin has yet to surpass.

The Mayor of Côte St. Paul

Ronald J. Cooke

Winnipeg: Harlequin, 1950

Admire the cover, but don't focus too much on the clothing, hairstyles or that typewriter; this novel isn't set in the post-War era, but in 1920s Montreal. Organized crime, bootleggers, smugglers and slot machines... much like today, but with different cars.

Die with Me Lady [sic]

Ronald Cocking

Winnipeg: Harlequin, 1953

And finally, a book that appears to combine the dual dangers of drugs and overhead power lines. I've never felt the urge to read this this oddly titled novel, perhaps because the plot is spoiled by an overly descriptive back cover:

Throughout North America, despite the vigilance of law-enforcement agencies, the deadly traffic in narcatics grows by leaps and bounds.

One of the centres of this vicious traffic is Toronto, Canada - a fast growing city of a million people, facing New York State across the waters of Lake Ontario, and providing a ready link with the United States.

Al Morley, a Toronto newspaper reporter, in covering the apparently insignificant death of a humble newspaper seller, crosses the path of the celebrated and erudite Sir Wilfred Cremorne and his lovely daughter, Valerie.

From then on he finds himself drawn into a tangle web of intrigue with a dope ring at its centre. He watches while respectable people are bought to protect the operations of the million-dollar traffickers.

The story moves towards a terrifying climax where a group of horrified people, doomed by their own avarice, helplessly await death on a luxury yacht cruising on the sunny waters of Lake Ontario.

Update: Caveat emptor.

Related posts:

Covering Up the Past

Hard Lessons in Publishing