102.
1926:
Rapid City, Man. October 10,
1926
Dear A.L.P.,
I half expected to see you & R. turn up here yesterday
but was disappointed. I've been in bed now for 4 weeks, quite
unable to move or to do anything but read old books which
I know by heart - a burden to myself and my family. It's
the old trouble - a sort of paralysis from the small of the
back downward - and that it is painful. We have no doctor
here any longer except the man who stirred up that trouble
in spring; but twice a week a man comes over from Minnedosa
who massages me - a useless experience, it seems.
However.
You did not answer my note of about 2 weeks ago. Since I
do not know what is being done, I had to act on my own judgment
and sent (or had sent) Adolescence to Brandt & Brandt
in N.Y.
Now I have taken stock again during these long weeks, and
I came to strange conclusions.
You said in summer that every second reader of S. of the
M. was "converted" and did "lip-advertising." But my statements
show that only 90 copies of the book have been sold since
Jan 31. I rather think the book is dead and buried. A new
wave of "fall-fiction" has shoved it under. The only question
is whether the books deserves its fate. Quite likely it did.
You know, I don't care much about the money end of it. Nor
about "the praise" to use Milton 's phrase. I'd be quite
satisfied to live in obscurity, let my book appear anonymously,
and to struggle along in poverty, for myself. But! Unless
books appear, it is useless for me to fight my enervating
fight with an ebbing imagination and an overpowering desire
to be satisfied with the first sketches - as I was in the
case of The Canyon .
Now this latter book is avowedly no more than a sketch.
I wrote it, practically as it stands, in about 3 months.
I never thought much of it myself. But I make an attempt
to place it because books which I think good (Daily Bread,
Adolescence) did not find publishers, either. Now, from your
letter of about 2 weeks ago, I see, you and others are of
about the same opinion as myself - it's trash. Well, let's
not spoil my one last chance in Canada by offering it to
Miller (or whatever his name is; I mean the "Graphic man).
Let's offer him "Adolescence" and be done with it. Trouble
is, I have no Ms, "Adolescence" contain some of the best
I can do - which may not be very good. At any note, it truthfully
paints a milieu (perhaps a little soberly, too; but, then,
I did not want to let myself go); and out of that milieu
it builds up a scene. Perhaps it would have been better to
write only that scene and let it stand as a short story but
I find others work the same way; and the short story is not "in
my line".
If I had a Ms. and had not turned this thing over to you,
this is what I'd do. I'd hire Miller, asking whether he can
read at once and decide within a week. (Reason: B & B
in N.Y. will want an exclusive contract if they take hold
at all).
My conditions would be: (1) book to appear in spring - I
don't want to be snowed under again in the fall; (2) no obligation
on my part to offer him further books, though, if he handles
the thing satisfactorily, the chances are, I should do so;
(3) 10% from first 2000, 155 from further sales.
This is going to be my last attempt, to that I have made
up my mind. I am still pondering over another Ms. But, since
it is essentially the same atmosphere, it will not leave
my drawers unless I get another book from among the MSS which
are ready. It's useless. I have been slaving away now for
four years trying to get novels out. During these 4 years
I have allowed Mrs. G. to make the greater part of our living;
and the rest I have supplied from savings. The savings are
gone. In order to be able to move next spring, I'd have to
sell typewriter, car, etc., and move we shall.
As for your endeavor re The Canyon , thanks. They
seem to show that I have failed. Mrs. Pratt's verdict, "I
wish he'd give us another Over Prairie Trails " is
rather ruthless, isn't it? It says practically, "I wish this
man had died in 1919 and not lived to ruin his reputation." It
hurts a bit because I feel it's tone. I have probably undertaken
what I can't do. Yet I go t a great deal of pleasure out
of the writing of all these things. I should have kept them
where they were - in my drawers, cupboards, and boxes.
How is the little "animal"? How is Mrs. Phelps?
May is happy in the possession of a new basket I have bought
her. Unless you become as these little ones are.
Well, bye-bye. Don't forget that you promised to turn up
here in October.
Yours,
F.P.G.
