25.
1924:
Rapid City, Man. January 19,
1924
Dear Mr. Phelps,
I owe you a letter. I have long been wanting to say a word
re your introduction to the "Turn of the Year". You are aware
of the change in my circumstances. I had to re-adjust all
my habits. I am now fairly well settled in them; and so I
find time. At first it seemed that I should have even less
time after having given up my regular work. I had the tremendous
task ahead of once again recasting the Pioneers. I am now
well started on it and have lost my nervousness as to my
ability to do anything with the book. It is progressing.
I shall likely print a limited edition of five hundred copies
of it next summer: print it at my own expense. Publishers
don't accept my fiction. They want nature-books. I have no
more Nature-Books to offer. That phase I am through with.
Well, as to the introduction. First of all I want to thank
you for having gone to the trouble of finding so much to
praise. I cannot glance it over without asking myself, Is
that really I, the common-place F.P.G., of whom the author
is speaking? And my last year's experience is repeated: the
booklet must carry a message which it was neither my intention
nor enjoyment of convey. I myself am conscious only of failure.
There that book lies. Did I write it? I can't remember. It
has gone out. Ivanhoe says this about it; Mrs. Black says
that. Most people say nothing. Strange to say, I merely hear
that silence. I have sent out eighteen gift-copies. Five
people acknowledged receipt. Three sent me a letter each
with rather enthusiastic appreciation. Again, strange to
say, two of the latter are such as I thought would not find
anything in the book whatever. Those who liked the Drives
observe the silence of the grave, with one exception. However,
the book is strange to me. Yet, it has a beautiful introduction
about some magician: to me, and that is perhaps the biggest
praise for you, the introduction overshadows the book: the
book is the appendix to it.
One single thing I regret about it: that all mere facts
were not quite omitted. They are so unimportant. If the Drives - for
it is of the author of that first book you really speak - are
the theme, what does the man matter who happened to hold
the pen? This is brought home to me every time I read in
a paper that the author is Principal of the Rapid City High
School - he is so no longer, and he thanks his star that
he isn't. But that, of course, is a mere trifle.
The book seems to sell fairly well. What I have seen of
reviews is, all but the one in the Free Press by the Bookman
(whoever he is) tolerably favorable. But it strikes me more
and more that we have no real criticism in Canada? I sometimes
dream of starting a little periodical to remedy that.
Well, I hope Mrs. Phelps and you are both in the best health
and in the best of spirits.
Sincerely yours,
F.P.G.
