Gatekeepers

I was interested in a little story in the Sunday, January 3, New York Times, and not just because Ellen Lupton did the illustration (above).

The story, by Jonathan Galassi, talks about the heirs to William Styron licensing rights for an e-book version of Sophie's Choice to Open Road Integrated Media. This could have been a really wonky, boring article about a dark corner of a very particular industry, but it avoided that by getting at how many people at Random House (the author's original publisher) were involved in bringing Styron's book into being. Reading it, a little window opened up for me between what Styron wrote and the various iterations of it (hardbound, large-type, magazine excerpts, movie rights, etc.)

Each version of the book, Galassi reminds us, is a slightly different experience. Here's a passage from the article:

The appropriate typeface was chosen and submitted to the author for approval by Random House’s designers, and a binding was selected. A dust jacket — often involving art specially commissioned by Random House to represent and advertise the book — was designed, and copy intended to induce reviewers and readers to pick the book up and pay attention to it was written.

and that's interesting, but Galassi also talks about the role of the editors in shaping the text itself and how that legacy moved on in subsequent editions. Having recently had an essay extensively re-worked by a sympathetic editor who was able to strengthen it significantly, I realized how important this would have been to the author.

But the thing that really got to me was the constant feeling of implosion in the publishing industry and its perceived threat from electronic distribution. Galassi didn't come right out and say it, but his essay strongly suggested that authors will not continue to enjoy the same kind of nurturing support editors offered in an age wherein writing is a form of 'property' that gets 'distributed'.

I feel less and less independent as a creator these days, and the idea that all of the support I require (from curators, critics, etc.) is on its way to evaporating is more than a little disconcerting. Another facet of this is that the opportunity to be part of actually creating work (as opposed to merely distributing it) seems to be getting concentrated in fewer and fewer hands, and the collaborative process of creating new work is being replaced by a game of disseminating that which is already made. I think often about how a successful book sells a million copies, but a movie that gets a million people to see it is a flop. Thus, fewer people are playing a role in deciding what ultimately gets out in the world.

Should we be happy with new versions of things that have been a part of the world already? What can we do to facilitate the creation of new things? Perhaps not much, as the current carries us all toward getting Kindles and such...but for now, maybe we cna stop and think about how many hands have touched the things we enjoy.