High Jinks In The Book Trade

Sir.—Your heading was a good eye-catcher, but I was disappointed there was not a word about Fanny Hill or Lolita! Thank you, however, for the opportunity to reply.

If I seemed evasive to Mr. Dewhurst, it was only until I had time to ascertain the facts, after which I gave him a frank explanation and a refund which he accepted with goodwill.

The fact was that he then had at half-price a book which would normally sell at about 10/-, and as the expense involved in ordering any book under £1 entails no profit margin, we should in fact have been on the losing end, as management consultants have established that it costs about 6 to write a business letter in New Zealand.

But I realise Mr. Dewhurst is raising bigger issues than just this oddity. If the students follow his idea of employing someone to indent special orders for them, they may be able to do so a trifle cheaper, but there are years of know-how to be built up and you will still not have what you want, a good University Bookshop, but just an indent merchant. To support a great community asset like a good bookshop requires that little bit more to cover the employment of skilled staff and a huge investment in stock. The heaviest write-off in stock in our particular business occurs in University texts because of the many changes and variable factors involved in buying two to three months away from our source of supply.

I am unable to comment on Mr. Dewhurst's last paragraph regarding the price of a series of books, as he has not been specific. It certainly does not conform to any pricing or series within my experience.

Review Re-viewed...

Sir,—P. G. Robb's review of Poetry Yearbook '64 is a rather poor piece of destructive criticism.

He begins with a facetious comment ("playing at Noah") which depends on mis-statement of the theme of Yearbook's introduction. Louis Johnson said it was the publishing drought that broke—and backed this up with a list of titles. The break suggests (to Mr. Johnson) that we may be due for a breakthrough—he even thinks there are signs of such a stirring in YearbooK—but he states "the past year . . . (was) not a breakthrough of new voices, but a consolidating triumph for established talents."

Mr. Robb then shows that he hasn't forgotten that this is the year when New Zealand poetry had news notoriety. For one whole column we are subjected to a rehash of the whole mess. Without yet having considered Yearbook he inflicts on us his own prejudices and judgements, phrased in emotive terms. Sometimes his generalisation becomes perilous. He judges the value of eleven volumes on the standard of one.

If Mr, Robb wants to deal with the Literary Fund question the proper place to do this is at the end, after an evaluation of the poetry. Most reviewers, and Mr. Robb is late in the field, have left the financial question alone—editor and publisher have relegated it to a brief editorial note and four sentences on the inside back cover, respectively.

When he does make bold to present the poems to us through his own eyes (after a false start when he quibbles over jacket design and binding—a quibble which ignores printing costs to criticise work which is competent, if nothing more) Mr. Robb fails to judge the poems as they are, but considers them as they might have been. Central to this section are two truisms—that some of the critical judgements are good and some bad; that some of the poems are mediocre and some are worth re-reading. This is as we might expect things to be.

Despite his introduction, it appears that there is some good poetry in the book. But then instead of evaluating the good (as we might expect) he evaluates the bad to the virtual exclusion of the good.

An anthology committed to being a survey of New Zealand poetry faces some difficulties. Obviously most of the good poetry of the year will find publication during the year—in magazines, in bound volumes. Then too, poets won't necessarily send their best work to a publication which is not a status symbol but a self-appointed catalyst of the local literary scene. Finally, to gain breadth for a survey may mean an overall lowering of standard. This editorial policy is of course open to the reviewer to criticise, but not usefully at the same time as he considers editorial content.

Flop?

Sir,—I notice, with some interest, that the careers supplement carried no advertisement for secondary teaching. This is hard to reconcile with the emphasis that Dr. Sutch put on education in his foreword.

It is possible that the Education Department put forward their current advertising poster and this was neglected because it was grossly misleading. This poster, featuring Mr. Kinsella's stern visage and some salary scales, was recently the subject of an attack by the Labour Party in the House. They claimed that it was dishonest in the extreme.

If those responsible for the careers supplement did in fact, refuse the poster, let me congratulate them. A prominent college in Wellington recently made such a splendid stand. If, on the other hand, no advertisement was put forward, can this be taken as an admission that the poster was misleading, and that the National Government recruitment drive has misfired badly?

Not The Okay Thing

Sir,—The review of the "Private Ear" and the "Public Eye" which appeared in Salient of July 16, was little short of extraordinary. Something less than half the diatribe was devoted to the actual production, while the first half-dozen paragraphs were used by the criticaster to air his critical (or should I say hypercritical) jargon.

Jumbled together in a confused and confusing muddle were the names of Kenneth Tynan. Jimmy Porter. Claude Chabrol; and critical "U"-phrases like "theatrical inevitability" (whatever that might mean). and "mise-en-scene" (which, incidentally, was misspelt).

One choice comment read—and I quote—"These coups de theatre were really the okay thing with the nouvelle-vague film makers . . ."

No one can object to constructive intelligent criticism, but this successful Drama Club production surely doesn't warrant this type of semi-derogatory, super-intellectual, and in places grammatically dubious criticism.

Like, I mean, it's not the okay thing.