“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(Long pause, eyes closed, leaning back.) Ruburt cannot understand all of the processes that are involved, but the body knows what is to be done, and is working with its own rhythms. This may cause temporary disorientation, but that will also pass, as you can see. Certain portions of the body were released this evening. By all means let Ruburt continue to express his feelings to you about the situation, however, and reassure him of his body’s competence.

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’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.

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.

(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.

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.