SIR,—In discussing the now historic Levin-Ritchie feud let us not
overlook the salient fact: that this book was published, and in three English-speaking countries at that.
When I think of the torrential flood of titles un- leashed each year by British publishers I sigh to think of the writers whose elation at being pub- lished turns quickly to frustration at lack of sales and chagrin at being remaindered. And they don't know what has hit them.
A good many writers whose work is published between hard covers are better fitted for more transitory forms of publication, in periodicals. For this we surely can't blame the author, who has every right to bash out what he wants to tell the world and every right to accept the publisher's offer to produce his work.
The publisher has the responsibility of deciding whether a want exists for any manuscript to be turned into print or whether, havirg decided to publish, he can by some means induce or stimulate a desire to buy on the part of the public. I am afraid Mr. Ritchie's book is no worse than a great many historical novels and of no, higher value to the community than most of these, though it may have qualities rather above most of the lurid detective fic- tion published. He was unlucky in catching the eye of an erudite critic with a considerable sense of humour, rather than being sent to a hack reviewer of books in this class for fifty words or so. Or he might have been ignored.
I have often reflected gloomily that if a writer sits himself down and writes 60,000 words—any words, in whatever sequence—he is quite` likely to have his work published. When I say this 1 hope I shall not be charged with encouraging young writers to write haphazardly—as though encouragement is needed !—but as my sincere reflection on the state of publishing.—Yours faithfully,
ELLEN ANDERSON 50 Loudoun Road, NW8
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