Tag: Poul Anderson

Tales Too Good To Forget #4

Precious story manuscript,
How I wonder who has it.
I sent it out for lasting fame,
But where it went I cannot name.

Printshop

I’m sure that anybody familiar with the history of science fiction publishing knows that in the USA the rise of the paperback steadily occurred during the 40s and 50s. Prior to about 1955 most science fiction was still first appearing in magazines dedicated to the genre but after that the science fiction magazines steadily declined in importance.

However, even if you are aware of all this I wonder if you have ever really considered the implications of this piece of history. Between 1926, when Amazing Stories first appeared, and 1955 there were a lot of magazines published which were wholly or partly devoted to printing science fiction. Secondly, for reasons I won’t go into today the the majority of this fiction was composed of shorter stories rather than novels. There were quite a few novels serialised in the SF magazines over the years but that total is still dwarfed by the number of shorter pieces published (it should also be noted that a good many stories that were described on magazine covers and title pages as novels were really too short of deserve the description). Last, but certainly not least, all these published stories began their lives as manuscripts which had to be physically delivered to an editor for consideration, either by the post or by hand. So what this implies is that at any given time there were thousands of manuscripts in circulation between authors and editors. That may seem a lot but keep in mind only a small fraction of those manuscripts ended up being bought and published. For every story published there were probably scores of never to be sold efforts clogging up post offices around the world.

Now the obvious question to ask then is, was this a perfect system? And the equally obvious answer is that no, it was not. If nothing else the sheer quantity of manuscripts in circulation ensured that some of them went astray. This is not to put the entire blame on the postal services either. Even if they did manage to lose some manuscripts on their own initiative, I doubt getting every item of mail to the right address was the easiest of tasks in the era of hand-written addresses (and that’s not even considering how many of those addresses had been copied down incorrectly in the first place).

However, sometimes problems occurred even after the postal services had successfully delivered a manuscript. Consider this extract from Rich Elsberry’s column, Nothing Sirius:, which appeared in Odd #8 (a fanzine published in December 1949 by Duggie Fisher Jr):

Some time ago, Poul Anderson sent a story in to JWC, Jr. A short time later Poul received a check for the story. Everything seemed fine till two weeks later when he received the story back from Standard Publications with a rejection slip. It was easy to deduce that something was fouled up somewhere. The story hadn’t been sent to Merwin. How did he get it? And how did it get out of JWC’s office? Poul decided to wait and see what would happen. It didn’t take long. Comes a letter from from JWC asking Anderson if he can send along the carbon, he’s lost the original somehow. Poul sent the original back to JWC but he still didn’t know how it got into Standard’s office. Noel Loomis had an answer tho; he’d had the same thing happen to him once. He figured that an agent must have come to JWC’s office and left a bunch of scripts for Campbell to look at. Later when he came back to pick up the slush pile, Poul’s story must have gotten mixed in accidentally. Later, when Merwin found the Anderson manuscript on his desk he probably checked with the agent and found out that he wasn’t handling Poul. Since it wasn’t his he must have had Merwin send it back to Anderson. While it still isn’t certain that this is the way it happened, JWC must have been pretty happy to get his story back.

The JWC, Jr. mentioned here was of course John W. Campbell, long time editor of Astounding Science-Fiction, which was generally considered to be the leading science fiction magazine at this time. Merwin was Sam Merwin, Jr., who was editing Thrilling Wonder Stories & Startling Stories for the Standard Magazines Group. By this point it’s generally considered that Merwin had raised Thrilling Wonder Stories to a level just below that of Astounding. I think it can be safely assumed that John W. Campbell was a competent editor not normally given to losing important pieces of paper within the confines of his office. So you can see that sometimes even the best had trouble with their paperwork.

However, the detail I find most interesting in regards to this story is that Noel Loomis, an author whose fiction appeared in the magazines nearly 30 times during the 40s and 50s, had experienced something similar happening to him. It certainly makes me wonder how often manuscripts went astray in the various editorial offices. Not a daily occurrence I’m sure, but given it was normal practise was for a title page containing only the names of the story and author to be attached to the front of a manuscript I suppose it would be easy for somebody to mistake one sheaf of paper for another. In which case it’s possible that in the average busy office manuscripts went missing several times a year. Now there’s a thought to send shivers down the spine of any old-time author.

No doubt you will be thinking well good riddance to that then. In today’s world of tomorrow we don’t have to send our manuscripts out as bulky bundles of paper in order to lose them, we can lose them much faster digitally. The upside to that being how much easier it is (and I’m assuming here) to locate stories sent digitally that somehow went astray. Now that’s all well and good but sometimes there are mistakes made that I suspect even the highest of hi-tech can’t thwart.

Consider for example the mysterious error described below by August Derleth under his H.H. Holmes pseudonym. This appeared in Rhodomagnetic Digest V1 #2 (published in August 1949 by George Blumenson for The Elves’, Gnomes’ and Little Men’s Science-Fiction Chowder and Marching Society). Just how the following error was made I can’t imagine but I do wonder if this makes early copies of Groff Conklin’s The Best of Science Fiction especially collectible:

The Monster From Everywhere
by H.H. Holmes

In the last number of these proceedings, Dr. J. Lloyd Eaton pointed out that the story, The Monster From Nowhere, by Donald Wandrei, reprinted in Groff Conklin’s The Best of Science Fiction, does not in the least resemble the story, The Monster From Nowhere, in The Eye and the Finger, the Arkham collection of Donald Wandrei short stories, and added an explanation from Wandrei via August Derleth that the Conklin version was “an old, discarded draft.”

Meanwhile the situation has been further complicated by the appearance of Gnome Press’ collection of Nelson Bond stories, The Thirty-First of February, which contains a story, The Monster From Nowhere, by Nelson Bond – word-for-word identical with the story in the Conklin anthology.

Mr. Derleth now writes, “Crown wrote us for permission to reprint Wandrei’s tale in the Conklin Best, and paid us on receipt of permission and the copyright form to be used. The book came out with Bond’s story under Wandrei’s name. I queried Don, saying that the story was entirely different. Without looking at the book, he concluded that somehow Conklin had got hold of an earlier discarded draft of the story, which had been lost in editorial New York, and used it. It was only later that Nels discovered his tale with Don’s byline, and Crown made the necessary adjustment.”

One trembles at the thought of the financial complexities implied in the three last words. Late printings of The Best presumably carry the correction; collectors please note this as a “point.”

I have forwarded a copy of this note to Mr. Conklin, and hope in a later issue of the Digest to reveal his explanation of what brought about this most chaotic mystery of modern bibliography.

The Donald Wandrei story appeared in 23rd November issue of Argosy while the Nelson Bond story appeared in the July 1939 issue of Fantastic Adventures. Now I understand some confusion is possible when both stories have exactly the same title but even so how does a mistake like this happen? I would assume that when Groff Conklin drew up a list of stories to be copied out for the printer to typeset he included the titles, author names, and where each story was originally published. Did Groff Conklin misremember the source and list the wrong magazine? I can’t see how whoever physically assembled the manuscript would even know the wrong story existed and include it otherwise. Unfortunately the next issue of Rhodomagnetic Digest I own is the fifth issue so if Mr Conklin tendered an explanation I don’t have access to it.

There is another layer to this mystery by the way. I’ve checked The Internet SF Data Base and not only is the Wandrei story not listed as appearing in The Best of Science Fiction but the Bond story is. Did Conklin end up sticking with the mistake because fixing it would be too hard? I assume August Derleth is to be trusted when he states that the Wandrei story was the one suppose to be in that collection so why does ISFDB claim otherwise? Could it be that whoever entered in the relevant data did not know about this mistake? If so and if the ISFDB entry was composed by somebody working from an early copy of The Best of Science Fiction then all is explained. After all, who in their right mind is ever going to question something like this without good reason to. I’m sure it’s not a mistake any of us expect editors or publishers to make.

Publishing, apparently more complicated than the word suggests.

Doubling Down With Don Wollheim

Presenting the platypus paperbacks.

I don’t think there are many fans of vintage science fiction who would disagree with me if I suggested that Ace Doubles are among the most desirable paperbacks to collect ever published. However, this is something a non-collector might find a little strange given the Ace Doubles are best described as the platypus of the publishing world. Like the platypus those early Ace Double paperbacks were a weird hybrid that worked better than they had any right to. However it’s that very unusual format which makes them so collectable in many eyes.

As the name implies every Ace Double consists of two separate books (usually novels but not always) bound back to back. This might seem like a strange publishing decision now given it appears to reduce potential revenue but at the time it seemed like a clever solution to a difficult problem. According to Piet Schreuders in his book, Paperbacks, U.S.A., publishers in the US had been unwilling to price their books above 25¢ all through the 30s and 40s. The reasoning behind this being a fear that raising prices any higher than that would encourage the reading public to buy magazines devoted to fiction, few of which were selling for more than 25¢ prior to 1950, than said publishers paperbacks. Don Wollheim, for it was he who was head of editorial staff at Ace Books, neatly sidestepped this concern with his two ‘Complete and Unabridged’ novels for 35¢ scheme. Not only did offering two novels ensure the higher cover price wouldn’t scare off would be purchasers but the implication that the second novel could be had for a mere extra 10¢ surely tempted them instead.

However, much as I’d like to give full credit for this idea to our boy Don it would appear that the idea didn’t originate with him. To quote Piet Schreuders in Paperbacks, U.S.A.:

Throughout the 1940s, many important books were not published in paperback form because they were too long for it to economically feasible to retail them for 25 cents and because breaking them up into several separate volumes was considered impractical. Kurt Enoch solved this problem in 1950, with the introduction of the SIGNET DOUBLE VOLUMES and, three years later, the TRIPLE VOLUMES. The Double Volumes were priced at 35 cents and the Triple Volumes at 50 cents and, to clearly show the reader that he was getting extra value for his extra money , spine texts were printed or three times side-by-side over contrasting backgrounds to symbolize the doubleness or tripleness of the book; sometimes even the serial number was subdivided into, for example, 802A and 802B.

So how similar was the packaging? Well this is the cover of the very first Signet Double.

Knock On Any Door

And this is the cover of the very first Ace Double.

The Grinning Gizmo

Okay, so they don’t look that alike and the Ace artwork is decidedly pulpier in style. But then it would be, wouldn’t it? Don Wollheim wasn’t going to try and muscle in on Signet’s classier patch. No, Don Wollheim was going to do what he knew best and let’s not forget that Don’s editorial career had begun with Cosmic Stories and Stirring Science Stories, two of the pulpiest of the pulp magazines.

Covers not withstanding it’s pretty clear to me that the Ace books borrowed a lot of layout detail from Signet. If you have any doubt about that compare the spine of Signet’s Knock On Any Door with the spine of a 1958 Ace Double featuring Eric Frank Russell I just happen to have laying about.

Spine Comparison

Oh, Don Wollheim you clever scamp.

Now you might be thinking that this is all very well but really, what did the Ace Doubles do other than borrow some layout details from Signet? The core feature, the two different novels in one volume, well that’s clearly unique to Ace, isn’t it? Now if you’ve been thinking anything like that then you are so very wrong. Consider the examples pictured below and their publication dates; Two Complete Detective Books (Winter 1939), Two Daring Love Novels (January 1948); and Two Complete Science-Adventure Books (Winter 1950). Three magazine titles that predated Ace Doubles by years (and the first two even left Kurt Enoch and his Signet Doubles in their dust).

Two Novels

Of course it can be argued that none of those magazines sported two separate covers so that’s one innovation that Don Wollheim can successfully claim. On the other hand take a look at Two Complete Detective Books. How on Earth did Wollheim miss pinching that brilliant idea? Every one of the early Ace Doubles should have had a banner proclaiming ‘$5 value for 35¢‘ somewhere on the cover. You missed a trick there Don my boy.

All is not lost on the innovation front though as according to Piet Schreuders Wollheim did introduce another new idea, at least in regards to the earlier Ace Doubles, in that one book was new and one was a reprint (usually taken from the rival fiction pulps). This helped keep the format profitable as reprints were to be had for less money than brand new stories. And profitable the series surely was given Ace kept issuing titles long after the 25¢ barrier became a thing of the past.

Another money saving tactic was to impose a strict word length on each novel published as an Ace Double. A set length saves on printing costs and perhaps even allows the company to offer authors less money. This also meant that if a manuscript was longer than the space allocated some pruning was done. Yes, at least some of the Ace Doubles have ‘Complete and Unabridged’ printed on the cover but not all do. Indeed, it’s possible that Ace made a point of advertising ‘Complete and Unabridged’ when it was true and then saying nothing when a story had indeed been abridged. Even if not done to intentionally deceive I imagine this encouraged the casual reader to assumed all Ace Books were ‘Complete and Unabridged’. One such example of what could be described as a sin by omission was Bob Tucker’s novel, To the Tombaugh Station. As you can see from the cover below there’s no mention that the book had been trimmed for publication, just that it was the ‘First book publication’.

To the Tombaugh Station

As it happens Tucker detailed the story behind the publication of this story in the second issue of Vic Ryan’s fanzine Bane. I’m going to quote Bob’s explanation here as I find such stories fascinating and assume you do too:

The novel (nearly 60,000 words) was sent to Rinehart last fall, but they rejected it (Rinehart has rejected my last two or three books and broken our contract; apparently I no longer made money for them, and the honorable way to sever a contract is to reject a couple of books). Well. So my agent sent the manuscript around, seeking other likely prospects. Meanwhile, the second copy was making the rounds of the magazine editors. Campbell passed it, Gold declined to read it on technical grounds, and it fell into Bob Mills’ lap. Mills liked the story but couldn’t use anything of that extreme length – he suggested that I boil it down to 20,000 words and try him again. The price he offered was decent, so I did, and he accepted the rewrite. However, it developed that I had over-estimated my word-count, so he cut it again to fit into his space. And that is what you read.

Meanwhile (and here is where I make up for the earlier slight), the first copy was being rejected here and there among the book publishers. However, on June 10, my agent sent a note saying that Ace Books was buying it. I have no additional information yet, but I assume it will be ½ of an Ace double-volume.

Which brings us back to cutting. I am under the impression that Wollheim cuts all his manuscripts to fit that tight “double-volume” space. If so, then fandom won’t see the full-length novel unless they happen to get the British edition, if there is a British edition.

An awful lot of material (and a few names) were dropped from the magazine version – 40, 000 words were thrown away, remember. Most of the background on both the man and the woman were thrown away; almost half a chapter of Abraham Calkins was cut. A good deal more happened on that trip to Pluto, and the larger part of the astronomical stuff was pruned away.

Don Wollheim then replied to Tucker’s comments in Bane #3 and I’m going to quote that too because how often does the average reader get to see the workings of the editorial mind? Not often enough if you ask me:

I enjoyed Tucker’s novel a great deal. It isn’t fast-paced but it has a certain pleasingly handled eye for detail and life which made it very worthwhile, in my opinion. Hence, Ace bought it. It’s going to be a double book, paired with Poul Anderson’s Flandry, but I’ve tried not to have it cut at all – in fact, I gave instructions to cut the hell out of Anderson’s novel if necessary to save Tucker’s. But the damn printer still hollered and sent the copy back, so we had to cut maybe 5, 000 words – but I think the leisure is retained.

Actually, Poul Anderson is a better writer than Tucker, but I only like some of his work, and find a good deal of the rest of his copy annoying and reject-worthy (even when not submitted to me…)

On the other hand, Tucker and I haven’t always gotten along, but I always find his writings pleasingly backwoodsy with a sort of bucolic corn that’s very rare in these sophisticated days.

Now that’s an absolutely fascinating response by Wollheim if you ask me. His claim that Anderson was a better writer than Tucker surprised me at first glance but on reflection I suspect he meant that Anderson was a slicker writer of action than Tucker. Which is the sort of comment I’d expect to see coming from a pulp veteran like Wollheim. I’m sure Don was the sort to agree with the advice his fellow editor, Raymond A. Palmer, often gave to authors whose fiction wasn’t ‘slam-bang’ enough for Palmer’s liking, “When the action slows, throw another body through the skylight.” Ah, pulp editors, not men of subtlety.

Given the above it may seem strange then that Wollheim told his staff to trim Anderson’s novel rather than Tucker’s but that’s the thing about ‘slam-bang’ action, there’s usually more ‘bangs’ than is really necessary to move the plot along so an editor can safely delete a few of the less impressive explosions without spoiling the overall display of fireworks. In comparison both Tucker’s and Wollheim’s comments lead me to suspect that everything in To the Tombaugh Station builds on what has come before which would make it difficult not to leave obvious gaps when editing the story down. In which case it makes sense that Wollheim would be reluctant to trim Tucker’s novel. That would be my guess anyway (based on not having read the story).

Now perhaps it’s just that my cynical nature which caused me to raise an eyebrow when Wollheim blamed what editorial cuts that had been made to Tucker’s novel on an uncooperative printer. Surely once the manuscript was in galley proofs whichever editor has charge of it could tell if was too long for the space allocated? Surely then the cuts were decided on before anything was sent to the printer? I can’t help but suspect Don threw in a little pre-emptive finger-pointing in order to deflect future complaints about whatever his staff had done to the manuscript.

From my point of view the most important point to come out of the above exchange is the admission by Don Wollheim himself that cutting manuscripts marked for publication as half an Ace Double was standard practise. I’ve seen that it happened mentioned elsewhere but without any specific examples given so it’s nice to have one confirmed.

And there you have it, my take on one of the more unusual, and thus highly collectable, lines of science fiction paperbacks to ever be published. How would I sum up my feelings about the Ace Doubles? Let me channel my inner Lewis Carrol.

Double cover story book
How I like the way you look
Your only fault you noble mutt
Are missing words that Ace did cut