The latest in our The Booksellers series sees our cataloguer Anna Middleton discuss her interest in science fiction and counterculture, the importance of book fairs, and what’s currently on her cataloguing desk.
How did you get started as a rare bookseller?
I started off right here, at Peter Harrington Rare Books. I was reading English at Oxford when the rare book trade first appeared on my radar, courtesy of the Bodleian’s Special Collections. A little while later, I found myself in London, and decided to see if it was the career for me. That was four years ago.
What subjects do you focus on in your work as a bookseller and cataloguer at Peter Harrington?
I almost exclusively catalogue modern literature and counterculture. My preferred materials to work with are manuscripts, letters, and association copies of books from the 20th century – the pen-in-hand moments that offer snapshots of human relationships and the work of writers outside of their finalized first editions. I enjoy contextualizing works and exploding myths of individual, isolated genius. Writers sometimes have veils of mystique drawn around them, so it’s refreshing to handle letters where they’re begging their publisher for an advance, or drafting poems with an eye to featuring in a magazine they know will gain them dinner-party clout. I value the things that make the people we venerate human again.
You have a specific interest in counterculture. How does that translate to your work as a bookseller?
It’s a broad term, but we can say that it includes anything pushed out of our normal canon of value, the histories that exist between the gaps, particularly in the rare book trade. Things like a first edition of an Origin of Species or a Harry Potter are already well-known, so don’t need much explaining. I find it satisfying to dig into a little-known text and communicate not just why it’s important, but also to suggest why it hasn’t been considered as such before. Sometimes it’s the contents of these works that have seen them shunned – books about grassroots political movements, alternative societies, sexuality, drugs, discrimination. Sometimes it’s the form they appear in – periodicals, pamphlets, posters, handbills. There are collectors and institutions who are interested in questioning why we hold certain things dear above others, and it’s a pleasure to be part of that conversation.
Can you talk a little about your work with rare science fiction books?
Similarly to counterculture works, science fiction was rejected by “serious” literary audiences for a long time, but now we’re constantly having to replenish stocks of many of my favourite authors: Ursula le Guin, Philip K. Dick, William Gibson. It’s a literary genre that seems to be going from strength to strength and is increasingly prescient – the concepts explored in books like Snow Crash and I, Robot are barely a hairsbreadth from our own reality, for better or worse.
Is there an item you’ve catalogued that you found particularly interesting?
Perhaps the pinnacle of association copies I’ve handled was a first edition of Lathe of Heaven, inscribed by Ursula K. Le Guin to Philip K. Dick with a symbol from the I Ching, connoting joy and friendship. It is possibly the premier association copy in modern science fiction: Dick was basically the dedicatee of the book, as well as being the main character. It was the perfect marriage of my love for association copies and science fiction.
If you could choose one item from Peter Harrington’s stock to keep for yourself, what would it be?
It’s too hard to choose something from items I’ve catalogued, so I’d take something that aligns with my interests, but would never end up on my desk. We have a beautiful astronomical manuscript by Henry Ferdinand Pelerin, an 18th-century science enthusiast who created a commonplace book of his learning and interests. It’s clear, elegant, wonderfully preserved, and is filled with watercolour and gouache illustrations. There are a handful depicting comets and the night sky that bring me a lot of joy.
You attend and exhibit at book fairs on behalf of the company. Could you summarize the significance of attending fairs and meeting the book-buying public in that capacity?
There’s a lot to be said for taking the shop to customers, rather than waiting for them to visit us. You can chat with overseas collectors in person, which often leads to more meaningful conversations about what books interest them. It’s also a good opportunity to take books back to their birthplace – an obscure private press work from a small Boston bindery might not be of interest to a London buyer, but when you take that item to the east coast of the US, there’s a better chance someone will connect with it and give it a good home.
E. E. ‘Doc’ Smith dressed as C.L. Moore’s character Northwest Smith at the 20th Worldcon in 1962.
The first part of this blog series can be found here.
Ray Bradbury has said the importance of science fiction lies in that fact that it is “the history of ideas, the history of our civilization birthing itself.” Sci-fi is arguably the best medium through which to examine the present by projecting what the future may hold; to debate potential social, political, technological and environmental changes before they become an entrenched part of our reality. Contemporary sci-fi authors conceive of versions of a world different from the one we know, but which hold complex and instructive dialogues with issues which will shape our immediate futures. Recently, for example, author Naomi Alderman has imagined what would happen in a world in which the balance of physical strength is shifted in women’s favour in her novel The Power, whilst Laurie Penny’s Everything Belongs to the Future posits the effects of a pill which provides a super-rich elite with the opportunity to cheat death.
In the mid-twentieth century, however, all thoughts about the future of the earth seemed directed towards the heavens and the popular imagination was captured by the race for the stars, largely played out between the USA and the Soviet Union. In the second part of this blog series which looks at science/fiction, we are focussing on several items which cast an interesting light on the dialogue between the two disciplines. Did scientific advances in the field of space exploration in the mid-twentieth century inspire the elaborate space operas that grew in popularity, or did early science fiction fire the imaginations of scientists? The books we have chosen highlight the hopes and fears for the future stimulated by the expansion of mankind’s reach beyond the limits of the earth’s atmosphere.
SMITH, Edward E., The Skylark of Space. In collaboration with Mrs Lee Hawkins Garby. Illustrated by O. G. Estees Jr. Providence, Rhode Island: Hadley Skylark of Valeron, Reading, PA: Fantasy Press, 1949
The Skylark Series by E. E. Smith, 1928 – 1966
E. E. Smith is sometimes credited as being the father of Space Opera. Whilst his work was predated by many space-adventure stories, The Skylark of Space, first serialised in the magazine Amazing Stories in 1928, epitomised what came to be the hallmarks of the genre. The story follows Richard Seaton, a chemist who discovers how to create a space-drive, builds a starship, and flies off to have adventures, conflicts and romances against a backdrop of galactic empires and interstellar wars. It was the first science fiction story in which humans left our solar system. The high drama and action of Smith’s plot, and that of other works of the genre, were inspired by the success of the Western films, or so-called ‘horse operas’, which enjoyed such popularity in the era of the silent movie. Smith’s Skylark was the first story to transcribe this formula so effectively into the realm of science fiction.
It ought to be noted that The Skylark of Space was a collaborative project between Smith and Lee Hawkins Garby, the wife of a friend of Smith from the University of Idaho. The story goes that Smith was anxious to include a love interest in his story but felt uncomfortable writing romantic scenes or dialogue and so enlisted the help of a colleague’s wife. It is, however, not known what portion of the finished work is Garby’s; it seems that her involvement in the writing and typing of the manuscript might have been quite extensive. When the serial was first published as a novel in 1946 she was named as co-author on the title page, but Smith’s name alone appeared on the cover. A revised edition published in 1958 featured only Smith’s name, and was reissued many times. Despite the original version being republished in 2007, with Garby’s name restored, her involvement in the first incarnation of the Skylark series is often overlooked and the work is generally thought of as Smith’s alone.
The Skylark series extended over four novels: The Skylark of Space (1946), Skylark Three (1948), Skylark of Valeron (1949) and Skylark DuQuesne (1966). Its influence is far-reaching, with figures such as Robert A. Heinlein and George Lucas citing the series as amongst their major influences. Skylark was also read widely by scientists and contained descriptions of fictional scientific processes and inventions which would turn out to be remarkably prescient. TheSkylark of Space, for example, contains the discovery of a nuclear reaction strikingly similar to cold fusion, more than 50 years before Stanley Pons and Martin Fleischmann would make such a process a reality.
Heinlein, Robert A. The Man Who Sold the Moon. Chicago: Shasta Publishing, 1950. Heinlein and his wife Virginia on the set of Destination Moon in 1950, for which Heinlein wrote the screenplay
The Man Who Sold the Moon by Robert A. Heinlein, 1949
Often described alongside Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke as one of the ‘big three’ science fiction authors, Robert Heinlein won numerous awards for his fiction and, like Smith, had the habit of predicting technological advances in his stories which would later become a reality. Written in 1949, The Man Who Sold the Moon deals with the events surrounding a fictional first moon landing in the year 1978.
Delos D. Harriman is an entrepreneur whose ambition is to own the moon. In order to surmount the financial demands of this project, Harriman must exploit commercial and political rivalries in order to secure funding, convincing the Moka Coka cola company that a rival soft drinks venture plans to use to moon as a billboard for advertising their products. He gains backing from an influential anti-communist by convincing him of the need to reach the moon before Russia, and offers the moon as a broadcasting location to a television network. He also secures his ownership by convincing the United Nations that, as the moon passes directly above a number of countries in its orbit of the earth, a bitter ownership contest could ensue, and that granting the management of the moon to a private company would circumvent such a dispute. “I would cheat, lie, steal, beg, bribe—do anything to accomplish what we have accomplished” says Harriman at one point.
Robert Heinlein, L. Sprague de Camp, and Isaac Asimov, Philadelphia Navy Yard, 1944. (via Wikimedia Commons)
Heinlein’s novella is not only prescient in its prediction of the space race – specifically, of the rivalry between the US and the USSR for the first manned moon landing – but also in its foresight about the rush to commercialise space that would follow on the heels of successful spaceflight. Harriman’s plans at the end of the novel to establish a lunar colony and provide tourists with the opportunity to travel to the moon anticipated the push for space tourism, an industry into which several competing companies around the world are currently looking to expand, whilst the use of commercial satellites in space has been a reality since 1962.
Jones, Raymond F. This Island Earth. Chicago: Shasta Publishing, 1952.
This Island Earth by Raymond F. Jones, 1952 (Item sold)
Raymond F. Jones’ story of a man who becomes embroiled in an alien plot to use earth as a bargaining chip in an intergalactic war was to become the basis for a 1955 sci-fi movie of the same name. The novel is now less well-known than its film counterpart, and its author often features only as footnote in the annals of Golden Age science fiction scholarship. Jones’ novel has occasionally been criticised for its thin characterisation and sexism and is generally not considered amongst the classics of the genre. However, it does advance some interesting themes and, as is the case with much science fiction writing, functions as an interesting analogue for perceptions of several major issues of the era.
The plot follows electrical engineer Cal Meacham, who, after ordering and assembling a series of mysterious parts from a catalogue, receives a message on the device inviting him to join the so-called Peace-Engineers, a group of top scientists working for an alien race who are fighting a massive war in space. In the course of the story, earth is in danger of being swept up and destroyed in the conflict between the two powerful opposing alien forces, and the hero and his colleague Ruth must plead for its protection by demonstrating the human race’s usefulness in helping Lanna, the side for which they have been working, to win the war.
Rex Reason and Faith Domergue in a PR Still for the 1955 film of This Island Earth
Echoes of cold-war paranoia rumble in the plot of uncovering an unsuspected alien takeover of planet earth, and in themes of surveillance, undercover agents and information leaks to the enemy. The novella can also be read as a comment on the Manhattan Project: Cal and his fellow scientists are initially unaware that they are being used as pawns in a war that is largely indifferent to the fate of planet earth, and find themselves trapped into their situation when they discover the truth and try to object, mirroring Oppenheimer’s troubled relationship with the work he was undertaking on the development and use of the atomic bomb.
Original Metropolis film programme for the British premiere of Fritz Lang’s film in 1927.
The world’s most valuable movie poster, for Fritz Lang’s 1927 masterpiece Metropolis, is to be auctioned again after making a record $690,000 in 2005. Ephemera related to the film is notoriously scarce, with only four copies of the poster known to survive.
Almost as uncommon is this amazing Metropolis film programme produced for the London premiere at the Marble Arch Pavilion on March 21, 1927, one of only three copies that we have handled.
Not only a list of cast and crew, it includes eleven short pieces on the making of the movie, commentary from the director and cast, and numerous production photographs and film stills, many attractively arranged as modernist collages.
One of the most interesting sections shows in parallel columns how a passage of film scenes was adapted from the novel of the same name by Lang’s wife, Thea von Harbou.
Below the fold you’ll find the complete booklet – just click any image for the high-res version:
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