Editors on Editing: What Writers Need to Know About What Editors Do (46 page)

The scholarly book aimed to the academic audience presents a narrower range of challenges and opportunities for creative editing, but there are many things that can be done to help. You need to have a pretty good idea of where the research stands vis-à-vis the prevailing scholarship so that you can help the author to figure out in advance what aspects of the book are vulnerable to unfair criticism and strengthen those areas. In disciplines that are full of contention, authors need to explain in the early chapters what the book intends, and what it doesn’t. Scholars who take chances, for instance by moving into subjects that are truly interdisciplinary, need help to be certain that they are as powerful in dealing with the new discipline as they are in their own.

Then there are some simple rules of scholarly writing and editing. I call them the three freedoms:

Free the author from the overhang of dissertation style: long introductions, reviews of the literature, needless footnoting, and reiteration of goals at every stage.

Free the author from the agony of reference. Younger scholars who are insecure, or authors with bold theses, tend to footnote, and then to footnote some more, bolstering their nerve by demonstrating to themselves and the reader that they have read—and can comment on—every paper and book of any relevance at all. Convince the author that the book is a strong, even bold one, well argued and well defended, and the footnotes for effect will evaporate.

Free the author from fear of attack. A well-argued work of scholarship is its own best defense. A work that is defensive in tone never is convincing. Telling the author how good the book is (when you believe it), or how bold,
can really make the difference, creating an atmosphere in which the writer really takes off and becomes emboldened to say what she or he really wants to say.

This second kind of scholarly book, the “midway book,” calls out to a wider readership and more can be undertaken, though its main audience will consist of academics and other experts. It could be an interdisciplinary book, or it might present material of significance to experts in tangential fields, or it could be so original that it will have a major impact on other disciplines. Midway books adorn the lists of university presses and distinguished houses like Basic Books, W. W. Norton, and the Free Press. These houses have published such works well, and over the years have amassed enough cachet to make sure that their midway books receive wide review attention in more general media, such as the
New York Times Book Review
and the
New York Review of Books
. The author and editor can do a number of things to increase readability. And it makes sense to take the time, since the subject matter is a bit broader, the ramifications are a little wider, and the author might well desire a larger readership. Here are some suggestions:

Make sure that the author places the work in its widest context at the start. The introductory chapter is key in the exposition, and it should not be written until the rest of the book is done. Only then can the author really come to understand the breadth and importance of what she or he has written.

Convince the author that the manuscript isn’t a mystery, that the outcome—or in the case of scholarship, the conclusion—needn’t come as a surprise at the end of the book. The early chapters should contain clear and forceful statements of what the author believes. A forewarned reader can appreciate how evidence is being marshaled only when the author’s direction is clear.

Make sure that the introductory chapter and the conclusion are parallel in force and tone. In doing these two parts of the book in concert, the author is often helped to clarify the point of view of the book and to recognize its importance anew, which makes for more exciting writing—and reading.

Keep the early chapters the most general, getting more specific as the book continues. Leave the most detailed information, wherever possible, for the appendixes. Here again, if you are hoping to reach readers who aren’t as expert as the author, then the most general information will keep them reading, while the most erudite is likely to turn them off.

Keep the organization of the book, and of every chapter, as lucid as possible so that the reader doesn’t get lost. I find that subheadings are useful elements, not only for the sake of the reader, but also for the sake of the author: you’d be amazed how going through the exercise of putting in subheadings can clarify the order of the argument and help to point out its confusions.

Paying special attention to chapter openings is very important. The time spent devising good ways to introduce the new material, while keeping the reader alert to the movement of the book, can really be a boon.

Imaginative chapter titles can be of great help to the reader. And make sure that the order of chapters is logical and sensible.

Finally, the title: titles don’t make the book any more than clothes make the man, but boy can a great title make a difference! One of my two favorite stories comes from my days at Yale University Press, when I was privileged to edit one of the great scholars of the ancient Near East, Thorkild Jacobsen. At the time his masterwork was to be called
Four Millennia of Mesopotamian Religion
. Shakespeare and the Bible are the first places an editor goes to get inspiration for titles, and I was browsing through the Old Testament, appropriately, I thought, looking for a title to another book I was publishing that season, written by Father Theodore Hesburgh. I didn’t find Hesburgh’s title there, but a phrase in Isaiah leapt off the page at me. The prophet was upbraiding the Israelites for worshiping idols, which he called
The Treasures of Darkness
—a perfect title for a work. The other incident was at Basic Books, where I was lucky enough to work with Howard Gardner on his pathbreaking book on multiple intelligences, then called
A Theory of Multiple Intelligences
—until one day I phoned Howard with
Frames of Mind
, a title that really stands out. In both cases, the original title became the subtitle. And both books had a profound effect on a large readership.

None of these tricks of the trade guarantees that the book will succeed beyond the expectable readership—the work’s originality and importance make the difference. But the attention paid to these elements makes it easier for the truly important book to make its way into the consciousness of the serious reading public.

But what about the popular book? What causes a scholarly book to hit the public imagination and sell to the nonexpert reader? We really don’t know much about this, but I believe that in order to appeal to the general readership, a scholarly book must have one of these two attributes: either it tells
a great story, or it presents an original and important argument.

History, of course, if well told, has always captured a general readership. The string of successful academic retellings of the Civil War is a good example. It has always seemed to me that the novelist’s techniques can help the scholar trying to tell a good story. I wouldn’t be surprised if James McPherson had
War and Peace
in the back of his mind when he was writing
Battle Cry of Freedom;
I don’t know Simon Schama, but his novelist’s sense of pace and timing are crucial to the pleasure of reading his scholarship. The ability to stop the story and focus on an individual or a moment is the stock-in-trade of a novelist, but it is also appreciated by the readers of good history. The dramatic use of a telling detail that illuminates a larger question is a novelist’s tool that can be imported into scholarly writing (Robert Darnton’s
The Great Cat Massacre
does this brilliantly). The ability to create full-blown personalities on the page can enhance a scholar’s work immeasurably. (Peter Gay is very good at this.) When the structures of a novel don’t apply, it’s always a good idea to point out the contemporary relevance of the approach of the ideas in a book. It is widely known that Paul Kennedy’s editor suggested that he add the last chapter of
The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers
. There Kennedy made the connection between his subject and the present situation in Europe. That chapter caught the eye of reviewers and commentators and put what was essentially a work of scholarship onto the best-seller lists.

The other way to capture the public imagination is to have an argument. Allan Bloom’s
The Closing of the American Mind
is a case in point. Nobody expected that book to sell hundreds of thousands of copies, but the writer had a strong point of view, went out on a limb, the time was right, and the rest is history.

I have found that when intellectuals want to reach a general readership, they sometimes underrate the general reader, so they think they should oversimplify, write down, and to some extent vulgarize. These tactics never work. Readers looking for serious books—and there are lots of them—want new ideas, something to think and talk about. They are prepared to stretch, so long as the writer doesn’t try to confuse them. A sophisticated argument, clearly proposed and elegantly argued, has a much better chance in the marketplace. Lester Thurow’s
The Zero-Sum Society
is a superb example of the success that sophisticated arguments, clearly stated, can bring. And sometimes even a good dose of obscurity helps. This isn’t something I recommend working toward, but we have all seen books such as
Gödel, Escher, Bach
and
The Emperor’s New Mind
sell and sell. Just being able to read a bit of those books makes readers feel smart, and even if they give up the struggle before finishing the book, they feel that they have come a far distance.

Of course not all scholars’ books directed toward the general public succeed. Much has to happen, beyond the efforts of the author and editor, to make a best-seller. There has to be a buzz in the academic community about the emergence of the book; many reviewers have to be knocked out by the book simultaneously; news of its publication has to seep into the world at large; and the god of bookselling, that old scamp, has to smile on the book. But you can be sure that reviewers and readers alike won’t sit still for a scholarly book that is aimed to the broad readership and lacks a story or an argument. Let the scholarly surveys of important subjects be written and well published, but don’t expect them to break out. Let the evenhanded analyses be well written and edited, but don’t look for unparalleled success. Let the lucid retelling of the known be well written, but don’t look for outstanding success.

Of the three modes of scholarly editing, which is the most fun? Over the years I’ve enjoyed every one of them. Today I find the last most exciting, because it is so tough to stay true to the scholar’s research and also make the book accessible to the widest readership. It’s the most challenging, and the most perilous, journey. But if you are lucky enough to find the kind of scholar and writer who is up for it, then good luck to both of you, and fortunate indeed will be the readers who will benefit from the book you create together.

Publishing the Way It Used to Be

Scott Walker

S
COTT
W
ALKER
is the founder, editorial director, and publisher of Gray wolf Press, a company that has published poetry, fiction, and literary nonfiction since 1974. He has taught at the Radcliffe Publishing Procedures Course and at the Denver Publishing Institute, and lectures and consults regularly on publishing issues
.

When should an author seek to be published by a small press, rather than a huge one? What can a small press offer a writer that a huge one can’t? Why, when, and for what kind of writer is it preferable to accept a small advance but receive a lot of tender, loving care from a small press rather than bank a big advance but suffer indifference and outright neglect at the hands of a giant-sized publisher? These are just a few of the questions asked and answered in this reasoned and affectionate guide to the dedicated, idealistic world of the small publisher “for whom the notion of ‘midlist’ is meaningless.” As Mr. Walker puts it so clearly and correctly: “To a smaller house, all its books are
equally
important;
every
title must sell well
.”

Mr. Walker outlines what could be, for the right writer, the very real advantages of being published by a small press. Among them a greater receptivity to literary writing, innovative marketing techniques that engage publishers’ “hearts and minds rather than their checkbooks” to target the writer’s audience effectively, a deeper and more long-lasting involvement between editor and author, and a greater willingness to keep books in print than is the practice of larger houses
.

“
Ten or even five years ago,” Mr. Walker writes, “the small press might
have been the last resort for some authors; now it is often the first and best option.…

“
This is publishing the way it used to be: good books published well. And it is yet another case of small being not just beautiful but more effective, too, for the right author with the right book
.”

Publishing the Way It Used to Be

Authors should consider publishing with a smaller press if they are concerned about their book being lost on a massive list, of which only three or four command most of the publisher’s attention; if their book is likely to reach a narrower-than-mass audience; if they prefer a nurturing, ongoing relationship with a publisher and editor; and if they want their book kept in print. Or if they want to be sure the book is published—edited, designed, produced, and marketed—with care and enthusiasm along every step of the way.