Saturday, February 18, 2012

Cartoons


When I was away at school in the '80s my father sent me care packages. He might include an article or book he thought I'd like. Sometimes he sent a cartoon he drew himself.


They usually depicted some family tableau filtered through his unique perspective: he and my mom wintering in Florida or me returning home from school. He was very influenced by G.B. Trudeau's Doonesbury comic.


I don't remember the books and I didn't keep many of the articles. But those cartoons were priceless.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Rejection Letter from New Directions

My father received this rejection letter from the publisher New Directions, signed by founder James Laughlin, in November, 1949. It's unusual in that Wendell wasn't trying to get published by New Directions. He wanted a job! Not only did Laughlin not have a job for him, he tried to get my father to shill for New Directions.

Well, New Directions may have needed help at the time but certainly didn't go under. They were publishing writers like Ezra Pound, Henry Miller, Anias Nin, Robert Lowry, Djuna Barnes, Wright Morris, William Carlos Williams, and Gertrude Stein. They've continued publishing experimental and advance guard (Laughlin's italics) authors such as Roberto Bolaño, César Aira, Javier Marías, Paul Auster, Patti Smith, László Krasznahorkai, and Jenny Erpenbeck among many others.

I found this letter folded into the early pages of my father's copy of Spearhead, 10 Years' Experimental Writing in America. It's a New Directions book, of course, copyright 1947. It is signed on the inside page with Wendell E Smith Christmas 1947. A gift? It's well read although the dust jacket is still there, barely hanging on. In the back of the book I found, just now as I was scanning the letter and jacket, a clipping about James Laughlin from the New York Times Book Review, August 23, 1981. He had a habit of stuffing his books, the books that he cared about, with clippings and reviews and ephemera.

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Saturday, January 28, 2012

Interview with Wendell and Muriel Smith - Part 2

Muriel Smith, 1948
Part 2 of my interview with my parents, Wendell and Muriel Smith. The saga continues...

Dell: That brings us to Muriel...

Wendell: Right.

Dell: (to Muriel) You also grew up in New Jersey.

Muriel: Yes.

Dell: Morristown.

Muriel:  Yes.

Dell: During the Depression. Would you say the Depression affected the way you grew up? How things were?

Muriel:  Well, it may have affected us but I don’t think so. My particular family. My father had just opened his first auto supply store (Dean Phipps Auto Stores). About 1923 or something. By the time the Depression began at the end of the 1920s, he was doing very, very well. And that was the kind of business that flourished during the depression.

Dell: Sort of a do-it-yourself. Instead of buying a new car you would buy the parts to fix the car you had.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Interview with Wendell and Muriel Smith - Part 1

In the next few months I'll be posting the writing of my father. As we clean out his bedroom we collect his work, which takes various forms: typed stories, hand-written pieces on lined paper, ideas on index cards, file folders and manilla envelopes with full-length manuscripts, college essays, printed articles. All of it analog, nothing in digital form. Which means it needs to be digitally archived, either transcribed, scanned, or photographed.

Among his papers are: issues of Driftwood, a monthly poetry anthology form the 1940s in which he published early poems; two novels; a book-length exegesis of an ornithologist; type- or hand-written journals detailing the years he met my mother (I found the very entry where he talks about their first date! He was smitten from the first.), a joint journal kept by both my parents during their honeymoon when they drove from the East Coast to California to spent six months atop a mountain where they were employed as fire lookouts, and his journal of the family's move from Pennsylvania to Cape Cod in early 1961.

There are also boxes of family photographs. I don't know if other families took as many photographs in the early mid-twentieth century, but cameras must have been yearly Christmas gifts for the Smith family. Dad was also a painter and illustrator. Aside from his love of birds, he took to doing watercolors and charcoals of beloved Cape Cod themes, adding his spin to light houses and crashing waves and soaring seagulls. He sent me cartoons when I was in college; he was influenced by Trudeau's Doonsbury comic. So I will post some of his artwork here as well.

It all amounts to an archive whose breadth and depth my father only occasionally hinted at during his later life. Wendell was a WWII glider pilot, a used book dealer, a writer, nature lover, a father of four kids, husband of almost 60 years to Muriel, herself a writer and book lover.

To get things started, I'm posting part 1 of the transcript of a recorded interview with both Wendell and Muriel Smith, when they lived in Florida, on Anna Maria Island, May 25th 2009. I'll post part 2 in the next few days.

Topics discussed: writing, reading, agents, literary influences, growing up during the Great Depression, WWII, living on Cape Cod, raising four kids to be readers and writers, buying and selling used books and antiques, how the Internet changed everything, the benefits of writing long hand, publishing cartoons in the New Yorker, publishing articles in Classics Illustrated, and meeting Kurt Vonnegut.

Dell Smith, son, interviewer.

Dell Smith: So, we’re here with Wendell Everett Smith and Muriel Phipps Smith. And we’re just going to be talking a little bit about writing and Smith family writers. (To Wendell) You grew up in New Jersey.

Wendell Smith: In Morristown.

Dell: You weren’t born during the depression, but you were a kid during the depression.

Wendell: Right.

Dell: So that must have had a bit of an impact on growing up and the way your family—

Wendell: Well it did, but you know, you’re a kid. You don’t really know. We weren’t starving to death or anything.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Christmas without Borders

For the past three Decembers my crafty wife, Liz, has been a craft vendor at the SOWA holiday market.  This year’s holiday market is tomorrow, Saturday the 9th. In the past I went with her and hung around if she needed me. More often than not, she didn’t. So I would take a brisk walk over the Pike to Copley Plaza and Back Bay.

There I would camp out in the Borders on Boylston and do some of my Christmas shopping. I would spend a couple hours browsing the current releases, checking out the new-in-paperback table, and trolling A to Z through paperback fiction. I always had a list of books to buy family members. Luckily for this book lover everyone in my family reads. That includes sisters, bro-in-laws, and, to a degree, niece and nephews. Like any fancy big box book store, this Borders also had a decent collection of graphic novels and movies. This is not a plug for Borders, obviously, since in the past year all Borders locations have been liquidated.

Borders was never my favorite bookstore. Borders had no feng sui. I would walk through the front door and be hit with inappropriately placed tables with no flow. Book shelving that was oblique or inconsistent. I smelled a corporate evil amid the stacks. The idea that one person, possibly a committee, decides which books all stores of a franchise should carry is a chilling deception. I know Barnes & Nobel has one buyer, one woman who decides on the book selection. Maybe she has great taste. But no one person should be the arbiter, the gatekeeper, of culture.

Well, that’s another argument. We can all go indie if we don’t like it, so there’s no use complaining.

So then anyway, that brings us to tomorrow. When I drive Liz into the holiday show, will I stick around for the day as I’ve done the past three years, this time searching for a new store? (I know of a bookstore well up Newbury Street, but that’s a pretty long walk. There may be one or two in the upscale Copley malls.) Or will I turn around and drive out to Brookline or Somerville?

The Borders on Boylston was the perfect destination. After I collected my books, I could order a sandwich in the coffee shop (microwaved and rubbery) and of course drink as much Seattle’s Best as I could stomach. Then, dazed, perhaps zapped by consumerism and air freshener and a comprised stomach lining, I’d stumble through the matrix of Boston streets back to the SOWA holiday show to check on Liz.

Yes, bookstores are closing every day. And yes eventually those printed pages between covers will become rare. But, publishing is still a big business, and books are still printed and consumed. The generation brought up with Harry Potter and Twilight may be the last to appreciate the experience of waiting on line to buy a new book by their favorite author. It’s all too easy to buy all the books you could want online, or, if you’re not into the analog, download e-books or audio books. Still, for now, books have a place in our consumer society. And there are millions of readers who are unwilling, just yet, to part with them.

As for Borders, maybe they screwed up. Maybe they dodged left without a plan when Barnes & Noble dodged right with the NOOK. Maybe the marketplace demanded fewer bookstores (although about 40% the Borders locations are being filled with the even more middle-of-the-road Books-a-Million). I was a fan of Borders one time each year, otherwise I would go to Barnes & Noble or, when I had the time to make the drive into Boston, Brookline Booksmith, Porter Square Books, Harvard Bookstore, or Newton to New England Mobil Bookfair, and more often now that my mom is back on the Cape, Main Street Books in Orleans.

I do not rejoice when any bookstore goes down. I will miss Borders. Especially tomorrow. But I'll find another bookstore. Hopefully I always will. Sorry Virginia, there is no Borders this year.