Here’s last week’s post on the $3,000 per book Anthropic settlement, now free for all.
This Sunday I’ll be showing off and selling books at the Belt Publishing table at the Brooklyn Book Fest. See you there?
I usually write these newsletters very quickly (hence the chronic typos), summing up what I have been ruminating on in the back of my head during the week. But I spent hours trying to write this week’s issue, and decided to delete it all. It might have to do with how very hard it has been lately to remain curious, connect new dots, keep imagining: the world is increasingly too much with us.
So I’ve decided to send you something from the archives (eight years deep now!) on how Jane Austen got famous—see below.
If you’d like to help fuel future new newsletters, I’d love hear which topics are you interested in, which publishing terms or traditions are you curious about, which controversial topics are bouncing about in your world. If I think I can be useful, I’ll use these comments to create future newsletters. Thanks!
(adapted from the archives, originally published in 2020)
During long pandemic nights reading and watching adaptations of Jane Austen novels, I wondered how her books initially marketed, and how she got published.
So I read a Claire Tomalin’s biography, Jane Austen: A Life. I was annoyed by Tomalin’s arch tone, and got bogged down in her prodigious archival research into an assortment of Austens, but generally enjoyed the book. Everything that follows is due to her research and writing, and is indebted to her.
Perhaps because I read it to prove my own thesis, I came away concluding that Jane Austen’s marketing success lay in her family’s connections, as well as some strategic and lucky placement of her books in the hands of (wait for it), influencers.
First, some backstory. The first book Austen had luck finding an interested publisher was Northanger Abbey. Her brother Henry served as her agent, and he offered it to Richard Crosby, a publisher in London, in 1803. Crosby bought it for ten pounds. Then he did nothing with it: he didn’t print it, or publish it. He just held onto it. Gone was that book from Austen’s control. Seven years later, in 1810, Henry, using his military connections, got another publisher to agree to publish Sense and Sensibility. But this publisher, Thomas Egerton, offered Henry basically what we could today call a hybrid publishing model: Austen would have to pay for the printing costs, as well as contribute towards marketing and distribution. In return, she could keep the copyright. Thus this first edition of the novel includes the disclaimer "Printed for the Author.”
It took them a long time to print the book (printing was slow then, but not for the same reasons it currently is). It finally came out in October 1811. It’s thought about 1000 comes were printed, and two years later, in 1813, all had sold. Even though Austen fronted the costs, she still profited (140 pounds).
The book received some good reviews, but, as Tomalin writes, “Still more important, it had taken the fancy of the beau monde, the people whose taste and opinions were the most influential, and was passed round at dinner tables and in letters to friends and loves. Princess Charlotte, 2nd in line to the throne, then 16, said that “Maryanne & me are very alike in disposition, that certainly I am not so good, the same improducence, &c, however remain very like. I must say it interested me much. “
And so Egerton paid for the copyright of Pride & Prejudice (110 pounds). It sold for more than Sense & Sensibility (I was fascinated to learn that books were priced higher if they were seen as more desirable. Very logical! Too bad that is not done now!) Austen published both books anonymously (no platform).
When Mansfield Park was published (in a deal similar to that of Sense & Sensibility, as Egerton didn’t think it would sell as well as Pride & Prejudice), Austen decided to create a commonplace or cuttings book for the book. There were no traditional reviews of the book, but people wrote to each other about it, or talked about it amongst themselves, and Austen recorded their opinions (yes, I see you nodding: Goodreads!). Mrs. August Bramston of Oakely Hall notes that “she thought S. & S. —and P&P downright nonsense, but expected to like MP better, & having finished the 1st volume, flattered herself she had got through the worst.” On the other hand, a Miss Sharp liked Pride & Prejudice better.
Egerton sold all the copies of Mansfield Park he published, but he would not put out a second edition. He didn’t publish Emma: it came out with another publisher, who bought the copyrights for Sense & Sensibility and Mansfield as well. This publisher, John Murray (who was also Byron’s publisher), put out that second edition of Mansfield.
Turns out that the Prince Regent liked these novels by an anonymous lady, and told the Prince that the author was in London. The Prince’s librarian was instructed to invite Austen to the visit the library, which she did. There, the librarian suggested she might dedicate her next novel to the Prince, which is why Emma includes that dedication. This front matter increased the value of the book, and it was sold for 21 shillings, an even higher price, and 2,000 copies were printed.
For Emma, Austen put together another Goodreads/clippings file. As Tomalin says, “Out of the forty-three “Opinions” of Emma she noted down, twelve were distinctly hostile, and only six gave unreserved praise.” One of her neighbors said it was “too natural to be interesting; another friend said “if she had not known the Author, could hardly have got through it.”
Although Austen was well-like and -read throughout the 19th century, no paperbacks of her novels were published until the 1938; some of the books didn’t appear in paperback until 1966. And that’s in England. In the US, it took until 1956 for the first paperback to appear. There’s a mystery there, in how she became canonized, that I’d like to better understand. Clearly my next move in learning about Austen’s publishing history is to find out why, during the first half of the 20th century, Americans weren’t offered “classic” paperbacks of her novels, as they were so many other “classics” (now much less read, not to mention produced by the BBC).
Long story short: important people! the rich and the royals! Henry had connections, and then Jane’s book was found, read, and liked by fancy folks—or at least they found the novels a good topic for cocktail chatter—and that seems the key to why we read her today, and not another one of the other “anonymous lady” authors publishing at the time.
It’s all about connections.