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Vol. LXIII, No. 23
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Wednesday, June 10, 2009
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Vol. LXIII, No. 23
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Wednesday, June 10, 2009
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Selden Edwards’s story about the publication of his novel The Little Book, a rollicking account of a contemporary San Franciscan who finds himself in the thick of fin-desiècle Vienna’s simmering culture, would itself make for what reviewers like to call “a good read.”
“If I were to write a manual,” the author joked during a recent appearance at Labyrinth Books to celebrate the paperback publication of The Little Book, “it would be called ‘How to Publish a Novel in Thirty Years.’”
The Princeton graduate is nothing if not tenacious; he has been the class of 1963’s secretary for 42 years. The origins of the book can be traced to Mr. Edwards’s interest in time travel, and to his passion for turn-of-the century Vienna, fueled by a reading of Princeton professor and cultural historian Carl Schorske’s Pulitizer Prize-winning book, Fin-de-Siècle Vienna: Politics and Culture, published in 1980. “The Little Book is a tribute to Carl Schorske’s book,” Mr. Edward’s observed.
With disarming candor, the author admitted that not having “a back story,” he continuously inserted bits he picked up about others people’s lives “along the way.” Real-life people who influenced his writing included a college classmate who played basketball “and was a compulsive conversationalist,” and inspiration for making the main character a rock star came from a parent, who happened to be David Crosby, at one of his children’s schools. The result is a many-layered, complex story, and when the book was (finally) published, Booklist observed that “Readers may find the overabundance of coincidences maddening, but that won’t keep them from reading on to the shocking climax and the thoroughly satisfying and elegant resolution.”
During the book’s thirty-year germination, Mr. Edwards worked — and eventually retired — as an English teacher and headmaster in California. The difficulty of maintaining momentum over the long writing process spilled over into the rest of his life. “I wasn’t a very good father or husband,” he ruefully admitted.
“Perplexed” by the nine rejection slips he racked up (“not even a comment”), Mr. Edwards hired a New York City editor to take a look at his 600-page manuscript and make suggestions. When he expressed pleasure over finding “the first human being ever to read the thing,” he was reminded by his wife that “you paid him.” It turned out to be money well-spent. After taking another year to follow up on the editor’s suggestions, he found that things moved very quickly. Days after mailing the manuscript, Mr. Edwards was phoned by an agent eager to represent the book (“Nobody else has it, right?”). Four days later Dutton, a subsidiary of Penguin books, called with what Mr. Edwards described as a “huge offer.” Once published, The Little Book made the New York Times best-seller list as well as a number of “best books of year” lists, quickly selling out its first printing. Entertainment Weekly described it as “Back to the Future for the intellectual set.”
A movie version of The Little Book is a possibility; another book by Mr. Edwards is a sure thing. The gratified writer said that he had two dreams in college: to publish a novel, and to be drafted by the Celtics. “I’m waiting for a call from the Celtics,” he said.