“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Jane tried to half-heartedly deny this, without really considering the question, I thought—not that I wanted her to to any great degree before Seth got into it. He’s mentioned the subject occasionally, of course. But I told Jane that now I’d need advice on how to handle my reactions to Prentice-Hall so as not to alarm her further.

Now: about Prentice. I do not want to lay stress upon any negative effects, but to explain differences of opinion and behavior. The initial relationship began some time ago, of course, and in a fashion had its own background as far as Ruburt was concerned. When he wrote short stories, for example, he was forced to search for a publisher for each one—a magazine. He learned to deal with the various editors by mail. He sold most of his stories to Fantasy & Science Fiction Magazine when Boucher was the editor.

Later editors did not see eye to eye with him about his work. He learned that his work must be sold in the marketplace if he wanted to continue writing. He tried unsuccessfully to publish several novels. (Long pause.) When Frederick Fell took the ESP book he was delighted. In a fashion Fell represented the next step upward from, say, pulp magazines. On the other hand, Fell did not go for the next projects that he either offered or had in mind—nor did Ace Books, who fell into the same category.

He considered Prentice-Hall a further excellent step upward, a reputable-enough publisher. Tam as editor did not go for his first—or that is, Ruburt’s first presentation, however, but suggested the book that ended up as The Seth Material.

(Long pause at 9:07.) In many ways Tam and Ruburt got along quite well, even though Tam was a good deal younger, where before Ruburt’s editors had been people a good deal older than he. When the book was done Ruburt began another, along with several different attempts. Dreams, Astral Projection and ESP, I believe was to be the title. Ruburt signed for the book but had difficulty with his presentation, and it represented his indecisions, so Tam respectfully at first suggested large alterations.

Ruburt himself recognized the book’s deficiencies, and he and Tam together hit upon the idea of switching my book, Seth Speaks, which was not yet contracted for, instead of Dreams. (Long pause.) Ruburt was therefore impressed to the ears with the necessity of getting a book to market, and of the importance of a decent working relationship with an editor, particularly in the uncertainties of even usual free-lancing writing were taken into consideration.

Ruburt’s subject matter, however, was not routine, particularly back in those times. He felt that its unique nature meant that it could be quite difficult to sell. When he and Tam began to reach a relatively workable relationship, therefore, he began to value this more and more. He felt that in the beginning Tam stood up for him at Prentice several times. And Tam, it seemed, kept his hands away from the manuscript itself in the one way that Ruburt clearly understood: he did not generally change the copy. As the years went by Tam and Ruburt arrived at certain methods of operation that suited Ruburt personally, and that were understood by both of them.

These were not elements of behavior that seem particularly businesslike, however. Overall Ruburt felt quite competent, however, even in battling away at his advances two-thousand dollars at a time. He valued the relative permanency of the association, judging it in his mind against other situations in which time might otherwise be necessary to find a different publisher for each book, or an agent with whom Ruburt might feel rapport. Period.

The national economic situation led him to value that relationship still further. He made comparisons, of course, between that relationship and what he knew of other publishers through reading or through direct dealings, such as with Eleanor, for example. He valued the more or less clear channel of operation from the completion of a book by himself to its publication.

Now overall he wanted an attractive package, of course, yet to him the book was in the copy mainly. (Long pause.) The Bantam photograph covers did displease him, but in a fashion he did not expect any more from the mass paperback situation. For some time he felt competent then in those business dealings. He felt loyalty to Tam, who he felt was loyal to him. At the same time he did not idealize Tam, and was well aware of some of his natural failings.

Many of the typos, for example, did not exist for Ruburt. He valued the good feelings that existed between himself and Tam, and quite preferred for example not to deal with too many other people at Prentice, but to keep the situation as simple as possible. They settled many matters by hastily scribbled notes (pause), and by other methods that sometimes did not even seem to deal with the matter at hand.

He trusted you in the manuscript itself of a Seth book to provide the accuracy of record, in which he felt he was himself relatively deficient, and also to contribute the background material he felt so necessary, yet which he found difficult himself, and he valued of course your loyalty, support, and inspiration.

(9:38.) He therefore became upset whenever there were difficulties in which you and Prentice disagreed, or you and he disagreed, and he became highly uneasy if you and Tam seemed to disagree. He began to feel less competent in his dealings. He began to feel somewhat humiliated that as a woman he needed his husband to take care of such matters, and he felt threatened not only by such circumstances, but of course by the changes going on at Prentice itself and by Tam’s own growing restlessness.

He realized that at another house he might receive more money or more publicity, or possibly another more esthetically-presented package, yet against the other uncertainties and vicissitudes he felt he had an acceptable framework of operation. Whose difficulties were minimal enough under the circumstances —one that provided creative freedom since, until Emir, Prentice had published his world-view books, poetry and novels, as well as my work. He made the Emir decision regretfully but very clearly.

(Long pause.) The problem with the contracts and the entire translation affair bothered you both deeply. Ruburt felt at times that you were too severe on occasion in your dealings with Tam for a while. (Long pause.) The entire situation bothered him deeply. He valued the relationship with Prentice (long pause), and he valued the idea of distributing the books in foreign lands, even if that venture meant misunderstandings or quite deliberate translations such as the shortening of one book, feeling that Prentice, while negligent, was not deliberately negligent, and that the situation would be righted and the material restored.

That involved the deletion of copy, you see. He agreed with you thoroughly there. Though he did not agree about your opinion of Prentice per se, involving the difficulty, he blamed the foreign publisher. He felt, however, that some of your own anger against the foreign publisher was directed at Tam. Much of this involves simple differences in temperament. He did not deny the fact of your own visually acute behavior. He felt stupid when you became annoyed at typos or misspellings or whatever that he did not even perceive until you mentioned them. He felt between you and Prentice and Tam at various stages, of course, and did not feel certain of his old capacity to set the relationship right. He also began to distrust his own earlier methods of dealing with the situation.

He is pleased now that both books are on the market. He is pleased with their appearance. There are a few other issues I will add, including his changing attitudes and yours toward the disclaimer—but that is for another evening.