Grumbles From the Grave
Page 9
Following your theory, I really must point out that the treatment of Rusty in Along Janet's Way [written by Miss Dalgliesh] is extremely significant (to a good Freudian) and highly symbolic, both in secondary sex behavior and in sublimation phenomena—in fact, not the sort of book to put into the hands of a young girl. That business with the nightgown, for example. From the standpoint of a good Freudian, every writer (you and I among others) unconsciously uses symbols which are simply reeking with the poisonous sexual jungles of our early lives and our ancestries. What would a half-baked analyst make of that triangular scene between the girl, the young man, and the male dog—and the nightgown? Of the phallic symbolism and the fetishism in the dialog that followed? And all this in a book intended for young girls?
Honest, Alice Dalgliesh, I don't think that you write dirty books. But neither do I—and lay off my flat cats, will yuh? Your books and your characters are just as vulnerable to the sort of pseudoscientific criticism you have given mine as are mine. So lay off—before I haul Jinks into this argument.
About Freud: Look, Freud was not a scientist; he was simply a brilliant charlatan. He did not use scientific methodology, and his theories are largely unsubstantiated and are nowadays extremely suspect. From a practical standpoint the practitioners of his "psychoanalysis" have been notably unsuccessful in curing the mentally ill. Christian Science has done as well if not better—and is about as well grounded in scientific proof. I grant you that Freudian doctrine has had an aura of scientific respectability for the past generation, but that aura was unearned and more and more psychiatrists are turning away from Freud. I concede that, among other damages, Freud and his spectacular theories have helped to make the layman in our maladjusted culture extremely sensitive to sex symbols, real or false, and this situation must be taken into account by a writer. But we shouldn't go overboard in making concessions to this artificial situation, particularly because it is impossible to write any story in such a fashion that it will not bring a knowing leer to the face of a "good Freudian."
(Let's look at another aspect of the problem; it is to be hoped, I suppose, that the readers of your list of books will presently graduate to Scribner's trade books for adults. Let us suppose that I manage to keep my readers sealed in cellophane, sterile in vitro—then comes the day when they start reading other Scribner's books. I'll mention a few: Hemingway—with his painful reiteration of the emasculation theme—From Here to Eternity, which needs a glossary of taboo words to explain its taboo situations, Europa and Europa Revisited, which combine communist propaganda with pornography in a most curious fashion. I am not panning Scribner's adult list; my point is that the gradient from one list to the other can be ridiculously steep.)
STARMAN JONES
(68)
With Starman Jones in 1953, Heinlein and Dalgliesh had fewer conflicts, though she still asked for changes.
When Max finds living with his new stepfather impossible, he leaves for Earthport, taking the books of navigation tables left by his uncle, a former officer on the interstellar ships, hoping to find work on the ships. But the board refuses, taking the books from him, but giving him the deposit money on them. Sam, a former spaceman, persuades him to use the money to get them false papers as crewmen.
Aboard the Asgard, his relationship to his uncle is discovered, and he is bumped to chartsman trainee. There he reveals that, with his trick memory, he's memorized all the tables. Then a mistake leaves the ship lost. The nearest planet has a dangerous life-form. All higher officers are dead and the navigation books are lost. Only Max's memory is able to bring the Asgard back to known space.
The future of Max as a spaceman and officer is assured.
March 24, 1953: Lurton Blassingame to Robert A. Heinlein
[Scribner's] wants some minor changes in the novel [Starman Jones] and hopes you won't mind making them. These are limited to the first chapter and the last. In the first chapter, [Dalgliesh] says the stepfather sounds like the conventional pulp-paper villain, since he comes in and wants to beat the boy the first night he is married to the boy's mother. . . .
For the last chapter, she thinks that some of their readers wouldn't fully understand all that you are saying so briefly in the scene where the hero is back at the farm. How much time—earth time, that is—has elapsed? She also wants a bit more made of the fines, or whatever way the hero pays for the fact that he started out as a liar. It might help here if the powers that be keep the hero as an astrographer (sic) . . . because he had the moral fiber to admit his error and since then acted in every way as a man.
These aren't serious and I hope you won't mind making them.
March 25, 1953: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
Now, about the changes Miss Dalgliesh wants: I think that it is necessary that [she] write directly to me, explaining in detail what changes she wants and why and specifically what she wants done to accomplish those changes. Offhand, she certainly has not asked for much; nevertheless, on the basis of what you have relayed to me, I am not convinced that the changes are either necessary or desirable.
. . . I don't say that I won't make this change [i.e., the "stepfather" change], but I do say that I am going to need a helluva lot of convincing . . . In my opinion it would badly damage the dramatic timing of the story to make this change. What I have now accomplished in six pages would, with the proposed revision, require tacking on a couple of chapters, change the opening from fast to very slow, and in particular (this is what I hate most) change the crisis in the boy's life from a dramatic case of having the rug jerked out from under him in a matter of minutes into a situation in which he simply becomes increasingly annoyed with an unpleasant situation.
* * *
The suggested revisions in the ending are not difficult, and the last chapter as I wrote it is certainly open to criticism. But (as usual!) I have comments. I kept that last chapter short because the story actually ends with the next to the last chapter, i.e., the character change is complete.
THE STAR BEAST
(70)
The Library Journal threatened to lambaste Heinlein if he didn't withdraw The Star Beast because of its suggestion that children could divorce their parents.
John Thomas Stuart XI has a pet-Lummox—brought back from a space trip by an ancestor. "Lummie" began as a tiny pet, but over the generations (by earth standards) has grown huge, and is everlastingly in trouble. Lummie's race locates him, and demands his return.
Mr. Kiku, Under-Secretary for Spatial Affairs, finds that Lummox has no wish to leave for his home without his "pet," John Thomas to return to her ancestral home . . . she has been raising "John Thomases" for a long time, and wishes to continue doing so . . .
August 27, 1953: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
. . . the new boys' book [The Star Beast] is, for the present, going nicely. I've gotten no farther than the first chapter, but that puts me over the worst hump. I had a pretty well worked out story with a juicy new extraterrestrial character but, while I thought it could be written and sold, I was not satisfied with the plot line. Things were in too low key, not enough action and not enough conflict. Ginny came up with a new way to start the story, which I believe has fixed that difficulty. In any case, I am writing it.
December 21, 1953: Lurton Blassingame to Robert A. Heinlein (Sent to Sydney, Australia)
Scribner's wants new title for book, Lummox (original title) still on stands as title of another book. Or a subtitle. Hopes this won't interfere with elbow-bending.
March 11, 1954: Lurton Blassingame to Robert A. Heinlein (Sent to Honolulu, Hawaii)
In conference with [Scribner's] about new book. Idea that children can divorce parents horrifies her. It would be bad for book club sales. But she loved book, and this is only complaint.
Editor's Note: Blassingame allowed changes (see letter of October 8, 1954).
October 8, 1954: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
As soon as I can get the travel book [Tramp Roy
al] out of the way I will start on a novel. It should be my annual boys' novel, but I may make it an adult novel instead. I am finding the nonsense connected with juveniles increasingly irksome. The latest is a hoorah over Star Beast which has occupied much too much of my time lately. It was not a business matter, so I did not bother you with it while it was going on—but it has left an extremely bad taste in my mouth and made me quite reluctant to continue the series with Scribner's. I have a full file on it but a brief summary will be enough to show my viewpoint: A Mr. Learned T. Bulman, reviewing it for the Library Journal, wrote Miss Dalgliesh a letter saying that I had "destroyed" the book by including the notion that children might be "divorced" from unsatisfactory parents through court action and placed in the hands of guardians; Mr. Bulman in effect demanded that the book be withdrawn and revised, under pain of being lambasted in the Library Journal.
(The man did not even seem to realize that the procedure referred to in my story was a legal and accepted part of our own social structure; the only new element lay in calling such a court action a "divorce.")
You will remember that Miss Dalgliesh had qualms about this point and got permission from you to revise as she saw fit during my absence. The published version is as she revised it. But, instead of answering Mr. Bulman and standing up for the book as she edited and published it, she conceded his whole case and tossed it in my lap—this, from her point of view, constitutes "defending" me.
I concede that she is a nice person in many ways, that she is a good editor and highly respected, and that she sells books to libraries. I readily concede that I might be much worse off with another juveniles editor. But what irks me are the very conditions of writing for kids at the present time. My books do not cause juvenile delinquency; I consider it irrelevant that horror comics and crime television (may possibly) do so. Obviously, the juvenile delinquency in some New York City public schools is disgraceful and dangerous—but to tackle the matter by searching for minute flaws in teenage trade books strikes me as silly and as inappropriate as treating cancer with hair tonic.
Yet this fluff-picking goes on with unhumorous zeal. Mr. Bulman wrote to me that he did not object to the idea of "divorce" for unfortunate children in itself, but that one of the characters was "flippant." This epitomizes the nature of the objections; these watchful guardians of youthful morals do not want live characters, they want plaster saints who never do anything naughty and who are always respectful toward all the shibboleths and taboos of our present-day, Heaven-ordained tribal customs.
I could write such books, of course—but the kids would not read them.
I feel that I am caught in a squeeze between the really difficult job of being more entertaining than a comic book or a TV show and the impossible task of doing the first while pleasing a bunch of carping elders whose whims and prejudices I am unable to anticipate. I realize that there is no way to get rid of these pipsqueak arbiters of morals and good taste—but I would prefer to think that I had the backing of my editor once said editor approved the final form of a book. I do not feel that I have it from Miss Dalgliesh.
In the first place, she seems to me to be overpoweringly anxious to appease these knotheads, and for reasons pragmatic rather than moral, i.e., she has told me repeatedly that she did not herself do this and that [it was done] because of librarians and teachers. I always followed her advice, although often most reluctantly as it seemed to me that the censoring was often trivial and silly—like calling a leg a "limb" so as not to shock dear old Aunt Mamie. I knew that the changes meant nothing at all in re the protecting of the morals of children—but I went along with her in such matters because it was represented as pragmatic economic necessity.
But when appeasement goes so far as to disavow me and my works instead of standing up for me, I get really burned up! This Bulman wrote to her, not to me. I think she should have told him politely to go to hell, i.e., that we were doing the best we could and that if he did not like it, it was unfortunate but we could not please everyone all the time. I think, too, that she could have told him that Scribner's published the book, believed in it, and stood behind it. I do not expect from her Olympian aloofness when the fight starts; I expect her to be partisan—on my side. She's my editor—and this attack comes from the outside directed at our joint production.
Instead she seems to follow the policy that "the customer is always right"—she promptly agreed with Bulman in his criticism and claimed (quite incorrectly) that the stuff he objected to had stayed in the book over her protests at my insistence. Then she "defended" me by making a mild plea for freedom of expression.
I do not know as yet whether I will do another juvenile book or not. If I decide to do another one, I do not know that I wish it to be submitted to Scribner's. I have taken great pride in being a Scribner's author, but that pride is all gone now that I have discovered that they are not proud of me.
I've had bids from other editors for my juveniles, one from a major house only two weeks ago. In the past I have given these overtures a polite no. Possibly I could now find an editor who takes a strong stand against this sort of nonsense . . . or possibly not. Miss Dalgliesh tells me that I will find that she is more broad-minded than most of the other juveniles editors, and she may well be right. This knuckling under to petty minds may be a common practice in the trade.
I've taken great pride in these juveniles. It seemed to me a worthwhile accomplishment to write wholesome stories which were able to compete with the lurid excitements of comic books. But I am really very weary of being required to wipe my feet and straighten my tie before being allowed in the house by those who stand between me and my juvenile readers. I am rather strongly inclined to let Mr. Bulman and his ilk write their own adventure stories for boys, since they know exactly how it should be done—and Miss Dalgliesh can edit them.
I have neglected adult writing in order never to miss getting my annual boys' books in on time . . . which has possibly been a mistake. But the response to the boys' series has been so warm that I have given them priority. But right now I am undecided whether to go ahead with them, or to drop them and concentrate on adult novels, where I can say what I think and treat any subject I please without being harassed by captious chaperones.
October 15, 1954: Lurton Blassingame to Robert A. Heinlein
You're not in as much of a squeeze as you think. We'll have to see whether the Library Journal lambastes you, and sales. If sales stay up, the squeeze wasn't tight enough to hurt.
TUNNEL IN THE SKY
(73)
Lurton Blassingame thought that Tunnel in the Sky had "slick" possibilities. Heinlein had cracked the tough slick market with "The Green Hills of Earth."
The class in "Advanced Survival" is taking their final exam, but Rod and his class fail to return to earth, as the "gate" through which they went for the test failed to work. This is the story of how the youngsters really survive on another planet, uninhabited except for strange life species.
Rod becomes the leader of the group, which sets up its own encampment. They meet strange beasts, odd vegetation, and see how pioneers live.
October 25, 1954: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
I am starting a novel [Tunnel in the Sky] as soon as I finish this letter. That is to say, that I start walking up and down and swearing at the cat; I should start the first chapter any time between midnight tonight and two weeks from now.
Look, I did write to [Learned T.] Bulman just once and no more—I have not answered his answer and do not intend to. The thing that made writing to Bulman so extremely difficult and time wasting was that (Scribner's) had written to him also, conceding all of his objections, but telling him that she was writing to me and that I would explain where I stood. That is what made it so damn difficult—I have to write to him and refute his nonsense without calling her a prevaricator . . . or worse.
So far as I am concerned I have dropped the matter, do not intend to write to him again, and have not answered her last letter
about it. But it is not out of my mind, as I feel equally strongly impelled to write another boys' book and not to write one. I like that series, am proud of it, and it has paid well, but I have a very sour taste about my relations with Scribner's. I agree that Miss Dalgliesh must sell books and should stay on as good terms with librarians as possible, but it does not strike me as good business to kowtow to everything that any librarian wants.
December 11, 1954: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
Just a quick report—
I finished boys' book Tunnel in the Sky at 3 a.m. today. Must be cut and retyped; ms. should be in your hands by end of January.
December 31, 1954: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
Schoolhouse in the Sky [Tunnel in the Sky] went out to be smooth-typed yesterday. I expect to have it in Miss Dalgliesh's hands by 26 January, as requested.
January 24, 1955: Robert A. Heinlein to Lurton Blassingame
Herewith are the table of contents and the word count on Schoolhouse in the Sky [Tunnel in the Sky]; they were squeezed out yesterday in catching an air express dispatch in order to put the first copy in Miss Dalgliesh's hands as early as possible. . . . It is not exactly a juvenile, although I've kept it cleaned up so that it can pass as a juvenile. It is not the ordinary run of science fiction, either. I don't know what it is . . . well, it's a story.
I hope this reaches you before you have read it, because I want your expert help on one feature. The story has quite a lot of hunting in it. As you know, I know very little about hunting—but I am strongly aware of how easily one can lose the reader through small mistakes that break empathy. If you find anything which you feel does not ring true, will you please point it out to me and I will rewrite as directed to correct the fault.