Mark Twain and his readers
Today is book day. It should have been yesterday, but I wasn’t sure how to write about this one. It’s a useful book; it’s an interesting book; it’s a good book. For a whole bunch of reasons, though, it’s not simple to write about.
R. Kent Rasmussen has edited a volume’s worth of letters to Mark Twain from his readers (Dear Mark Twain. Letters from his Readers. Ed. R. Kent Rasmusssen, University of California Press, 2013). He has included Twain’s acerbic comments on the correspondence and investigated the background to the letters. This is wonderful. I love private correspondence. It tells us so much about a person and his or her time. The second worst element of an edition is when the editor assumes that we, the modern reader either know as much as they do or simply will not be interested. The worst element is when the letters get edited out of recognition. Neither is the case here. R. Kent Rasmussen respects his sources and explains them lucidly.
All the types of correspondence Twain received are represented. Twain was a hoarder to a degree, and an annotator, also to a degree and both traits are very useful. From the historian’s angle, it’s a lovely insight into the life of the mind that accumulated around trends in literature. We can trace when Clemens became famous and when he was publicly known not to be rich through the types of letters people wrote him. I need to compare the lionising of Twain with the lionising of Martineau: I’m curious about transatlantic differences and gender differences and differences provoked by their personalities. This goes on my ‘one day’ list.
There are so many uses for this book and so many insights in it. It’s a handy resource for researchers and an even handier resource for fiction writers. It’s full of colour and character and incident. It’s not, however, suitable for reading straight through. It’s a reference book, or a book to dip into when one feels the urge. The underlying narrative (if there is one) is not one that grabs the heart and drags the eye across page after page.
There is a definite place on many bookshelves for this volume. For people who like to read in scraps, for people who want to research America and Mr Clemens and the socio-cultural aspects of the writing world and who thought they could do what and when and why (from navigating an expedition to becoming a famous writer to collecting the autographs of the famous): a cross-section of that world is in this book. Some of the letters are illuminating: many are depressing. So many people wanted ‘in’ on fame and fortune and had schemes that would give them this and were willing to write letters to total strangers. I ceased being surprised at Twain’s terseness after a few of these. It’s hard enough to believe in the innocence and enthusiasm of readers after the tenth begging letter – I’m very relieved that only typical letters have been edited and published and not the whole lot of them!
Normally I would argue that everything should see light of day and that we should make our own conclusions, but I’m still jaded from the last “I have this idea for a book and you and I could make our fortune together” letter. These letters still exist. So do people who approach one after talks, workshops, panels and proffer their thoughts. Some of these are entirely well-meant and do reflect that innocence and enthusiasm I mentioned in the last paragraph, but equally as many are from people who want fame and money and want to hitch a ride with someone who they see as capable of getting it for them. If I get this (and I am the opposite of well-known) I shudder to think of what it’s like for big name authors.
Even as I shudder, the historian in me wonders “But wouldn’t it be great to have a collection of letters to JK Rowling to match the letters addressed to Mr Twain?” It would show so many interesting aspects of change over time and across countries. In fact, now I would like to see a collection of many volumes of these letters, starting with this one, and using the same editorial decisions, for consistency. I’d like them lined up on my bookshelf so that I can analyse them. And so that I can pull one out from time to time when a model letter hits my in-box. I will nod my head sagely and say “Yes, type F has just produced a very fine example of this letter sent to Author 3 in 1931 where they want the author to do all the work but have a fabulous idea and so will take 60% of the profits and it’s good to see that laziness is still alive and well in the land of the entrepreneur.” I shall then take one of Twain’s comments and annotate my own email with “What a proposition!” or, if the ‘idea’ is particularly familiar and I’m feeling kind, I shall plagiarise another comment and label it “Sarcasm?”
It’s a bit daunting to know that all the possible letters to writers about these things have already been written over a century ago. It is, however, useful from so many directions. It’s especially useful for historians and for grumpy writers.
R. Kent Rasmussen has edited a volume’s worth of letters to Mark Twain from his readers (Dear Mark Twain. Letters from his Readers. Ed. R. Kent Rasmusssen, University of California Press, 2013). He has included Twain’s acerbic comments on the correspondence and investigated the background to the letters. This is wonderful. I love private correspondence. It tells us so much about a person and his or her time. The second worst element of an edition is when the editor assumes that we, the modern reader either know as much as they do or simply will not be interested. The worst element is when the letters get edited out of recognition. Neither is the case here. R. Kent Rasmussen respects his sources and explains them lucidly.
All the types of correspondence Twain received are represented. Twain was a hoarder to a degree, and an annotator, also to a degree and both traits are very useful. From the historian’s angle, it’s a lovely insight into the life of the mind that accumulated around trends in literature. We can trace when Clemens became famous and when he was publicly known not to be rich through the types of letters people wrote him. I need to compare the lionising of Twain with the lionising of Martineau: I’m curious about transatlantic differences and gender differences and differences provoked by their personalities. This goes on my ‘one day’ list.
There are so many uses for this book and so many insights in it. It’s a handy resource for researchers and an even handier resource for fiction writers. It’s full of colour and character and incident. It’s not, however, suitable for reading straight through. It’s a reference book, or a book to dip into when one feels the urge. The underlying narrative (if there is one) is not one that grabs the heart and drags the eye across page after page.
There is a definite place on many bookshelves for this volume. For people who like to read in scraps, for people who want to research America and Mr Clemens and the socio-cultural aspects of the writing world and who thought they could do what and when and why (from navigating an expedition to becoming a famous writer to collecting the autographs of the famous): a cross-section of that world is in this book. Some of the letters are illuminating: many are depressing. So many people wanted ‘in’ on fame and fortune and had schemes that would give them this and were willing to write letters to total strangers. I ceased being surprised at Twain’s terseness after a few of these. It’s hard enough to believe in the innocence and enthusiasm of readers after the tenth begging letter – I’m very relieved that only typical letters have been edited and published and not the whole lot of them!
Normally I would argue that everything should see light of day and that we should make our own conclusions, but I’m still jaded from the last “I have this idea for a book and you and I could make our fortune together” letter. These letters still exist. So do people who approach one after talks, workshops, panels and proffer their thoughts. Some of these are entirely well-meant and do reflect that innocence and enthusiasm I mentioned in the last paragraph, but equally as many are from people who want fame and money and want to hitch a ride with someone who they see as capable of getting it for them. If I get this (and I am the opposite of well-known) I shudder to think of what it’s like for big name authors.
Even as I shudder, the historian in me wonders “But wouldn’t it be great to have a collection of letters to JK Rowling to match the letters addressed to Mr Twain?” It would show so many interesting aspects of change over time and across countries. In fact, now I would like to see a collection of many volumes of these letters, starting with this one, and using the same editorial decisions, for consistency. I’d like them lined up on my bookshelf so that I can analyse them. And so that I can pull one out from time to time when a model letter hits my in-box. I will nod my head sagely and say “Yes, type F has just produced a very fine example of this letter sent to Author 3 in 1931 where they want the author to do all the work but have a fabulous idea and so will take 60% of the profits and it’s good to see that laziness is still alive and well in the land of the entrepreneur.” I shall then take one of Twain’s comments and annotate my own email with “What a proposition!” or, if the ‘idea’ is particularly familiar and I’m feeling kind, I shall plagiarise another comment and label it “Sarcasm?”
It’s a bit daunting to know that all the possible letters to writers about these things have already been written over a century ago. It is, however, useful from so many directions. It’s especially useful for historians and for grumpy writers.
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