If Miss D. had said Red Planet was dull, I would have had no comeback. We clowns either make the audience laugh or we don’t; if we entertain, we are successes; if we don’t, we are failures. If she had said, “The book is entertaining but I want certain changes. Cut out the egg-laying and the disappearances. Change the explanation for the Old Martians,” I would have kept my griping to myself and worked on the basis that the Customer Is Always Right.
She did neither. In effect she said, “The book is gripping, but for reasons I cannot or will not define I don’t want to publish it.”
I consider this situation very different from that with the publisher in Philadelphia who first instigated the writing of Rocket Ship Galileo. He and I parted amicably; he wanted a book of a clearly defined sort which I did not want to write. But, from my point of view, Miss Dalgliesh ordered this particular book; to wit, she had a standing arrangement for one book a year from me; she received a very detailed outline which she approved. She got a book to that outline, in my usual style. To my mind that constitutes an order and I know that other writers have been paid their advance under similar circumstances. I think Scribner’s owes us, in equity, $500 even if they return the manuscript. A client can’t take up the time of a doctor, a lawyer, or an architect, under similar circumstances without paying for it. If you call in an architect, discuss with him a proposed house, he works up a floor plan and a treatment; then you decide not to go further with him, he goes straight back to his office and bills you for professional services, whether you have signed a contract or not.
My case is parallel, save that Miss Dalgliesh let me go ahead and “build the house,” so to speak.
I think I know why she bounced the book-I use “bounced” intentionally; I hope that you do not work out some sort of a revision scheme with her because I do not think she will take this book, no matter what is done to it.
I think she bounced the book from some ill-defined standards of literary snobbishness-it’s not “Scribner’s-type” material!! I think that point sticks out all through her letter to me. I know that such an attitude has been shown by her all through my relationship with her. She has .spoken frequently of “cheap” books, “cheap” magazines. “Cheap,” used in reference to a story, is not a defined evaluation; it is merely a sneer-usually a sneer at the format from a snob.
She asked me to suggest an artist for Rocket Ship Galileo; I suggested Hubert Rogers. She looked into the matter, then wrote me that Mr. Rogers’ name “was too closely associated with a rather cheap magazine” — meaning John Campbell’s Astounding S-F. To prove her point, she sent me tear sheets from the magazine. It so happened that the story she picked to send was one of my “Anson MacDonald” stories, “By His Bootstraps” — which at that time was again in print in Crown’s Best in Science Fiction]
I chuckled and said nothing. If she could not spot my style and was impressed only by the fact that the stuff was printed on pulpwood paper, it was not my place to educate her. I wondered if she knew that my reputation had been gained in that same “cheap” magazine and concluded that she probably did not know and might not have been willing to publish my stuff had she known.
Rogers is a very fine artist. As an illustrator he did the trade editions of John Buchan’s books. I am happy to have one of his paintings hanging in my home. In place of him she obtained someone else. Take a look at the copy of Galileo in your office-and don’t confuse it in your mind with the fine work done by [Clifford N.j Geary for Space Cadet. The man she picked is a fairly adequate draftsman, but with no ability to turn an illustration into an artistically satisfying composition. However, he had worked for Scribner’s before; he was “respectable.”