“Etherized Victorians,” my doctoral study on American radio plays, had been lying for years in a virtual drawer. A string of rejection letters made me leave it for dead. Then, when I learned about an opportunity to get it out of that coma at last – from a reputable academic publisher to boot – I went for it. I have regretted that decision ever since. The anger welled up in me anew when I read this article in the Guardian, which a colleague of mine had shared via Facebook.
A toothy smile after years of anger and disappointment
It is not that I believe that should have let the book lie, that it did not deserve to be revived. Rather, I feel it deserved a better home than the publisher provided for it. Funeral home is more like it. To send it there, I agreed to pay £1600 for the production of a book that contains no images, except for the cover art that was supplied to me by my artist friend Maria Hayes. Besides, I did all the editing, proofreading and indexing myself. I got no input from the publishers, Peter Lang, other than a list of instructions and some rather irritating feedback on my blurb for the back of the book, which was only printed as a paperback.
Turning “Etherized Victorians” into Immaterial Culture meant cutting back and stripping bare. It was an instructive experience, painful though it was. I renegotiated but was nonetheless obliged to cut about 50,000 words, and I rue the quick decision to get rid of an entire chapter (available online, on my website). I also had to let go of the list of primary sources, the plays I discussed. When I asked for corrections of errors or inaccuracies I spotted close to the deadline, I was first told that no further changes were possible and then threatened with a £30 per hour editing fee. So much for academic standards.
Peter Lang did nothing, apparently, to promote the Immaterial Culture. Living up to its new name, my study does not even show up on Google books. I got my ‘complimentary’ copies, some of which I sent to a friend with connections to the BBC. Nothing came of that. I also walked one copy up to the theater, film and television department of Aberystwyth University, where I work for next to no pay, thinking I might give a lecture or make a course out of it. I have not heard from the department since.
And who else besides a library or an institution of higher learning would bother to purchase a text that is overpriced at £ 52.00 ($ 84.95), thus too expensive to attract radio drama aficionados? Not that anyone potentially interested would have even heard of the book. Apart from one long and highly complimentary review (in German), Immaterial Culture received no press, despite my filling out a great number of forms to aid in its promotion.
It is disappointing – let’s make that ‘pointless’– to write for an audience that proves allusive and impossible to reach. So, I decided to donate a copy of the book to the Paley Center for Media in New York City, where I conducted research for it. It would be rewarding and reassuring to me if someone got use or pleasure out of it. Why else ‘publish’? Never again will I let a publisher like Peter Lang kill one of my books; and, unless to show support for anyone in a situation similar to mine, I would never purchase any of their books or recommend them to fellow educators.