W.W. Norton is getting on my last nerve
I just read The Price of Salt, Patricia HIghsmith's lesbo classic (originally published in 1951 or 1952 under the pseudonym Claire Morgan). It's impossible to find in bookstores, so I was thrilled to discover it on Amazon. It's now published by Norton, as in The Norton Anthology of English Literature.
I thought that was pretty impressive. But why has Norton done such a sloppy job? First of all, the blurb is utter bullshit. It says that until Norton rescued it, the book "was always relegated to a mystery subgenre." WTF? It isn't a mystery, and Highsmith says in the afterword that being called a mystery writer has always annoyed her. Then we have this obnoxious and misleading paragraph:
"The Price of Salt tells the riveting story of Therese Belivet, a stage designer trapped in a department store day job, whose routine is forever shattered by an erotic epiphany -- the appearance of Carol Aird, a customer who comes in to buy her daughter a Christmas toy. Therese begins to stalk the alluring suburban housewife, who is trapped in a marriage as stultifying as Therese's job. They fall in love and set out across the United States, pursued by a private investigator who eventually blackmails Carol into a choice between her daughter and her lover."
Oh. Please. Did the person who wrote this blurb actually read the novel? A few items are accurate -- Therese is a set designer, and she and Carol do meet when Carol comes into the store where Therese works. They do fall in love, do take a cross country trip, and are pursued by a PI, as they eventually discover. Fine. But Therese isn't trapped in her job -- she works for a month as a Christmas temp, then gets a job designing the set for an off-Broadway play. Carol isn't trapped either -- her divorce is already in the works when she and Therese meet. And Therese doesn't "stalk" Carol -- Carol gives Therese her address so she can have a package shipped, and Therese sends her an innocuous Christmas card. Carol then calls the store and asks Therese out to lunch. Sending a Christmas card is stalking? This reminds me of Michael Medved's outrageous review of Brokeback Mountain, in which he called Heath Ledger's character a sexual predator. And "erotic ephiphany"? WTF does that mean? Oh yeah, and the PI doesn't blackmail Carol, although he does sell her two reels of audio tape for $500, which was a lot more money back then.
No one seems to know who originally published the book. The copyright page says it was "originally published in the USA by The Naiad Press, Tallahassee, FL in 1952," which is utter bullshit. Naiad was founded in 1972 or 1973, depending on who you ask. HIghsmith's biographer, Andrew Wilson (Beautiful Shadow), says the book was originally published by Harper and Brothers, who published Strangers On a Train, but in her own Afterword Highsmith says Harper rejected the book and she had to go with "another publisher." It was eventually published by Bantam as a pulp, but it came out in hardback first, which is why it isn't excerpted in Katherine V. Forrest's anthology Lesbian Pulp Fiction -- Forrest doesnt' consider it a true pulp because it wasn't a paperback original.
After all that, the book is . . . . okay. Some of the language is absolutely beautiful, but I never believed in Therese and Carol's love. It just never felt real to me. Carol alternately spoils Therese and treats her like crap, while Therese worships Carol. I suppose that's believable, but I never got what made them love each other, why they would give up so much for each other. Of course in the end, Therese realizes there are some things she isn't willing to give up, and I liked that -- she really does grow from this experience. But then I didn't quite buy the ending.
I have mixed reactions to Highsmith generally -- so far, I have wanted to like her work more than I actually do. I haven't yet read Strangers on a Train or The Talented Mr. RIpley, though, so I suppose I should reserve judgment.
I thought that was pretty impressive. But why has Norton done such a sloppy job? First of all, the blurb is utter bullshit. It says that until Norton rescued it, the book "was always relegated to a mystery subgenre." WTF? It isn't a mystery, and Highsmith says in the afterword that being called a mystery writer has always annoyed her. Then we have this obnoxious and misleading paragraph:
"The Price of Salt tells the riveting story of Therese Belivet, a stage designer trapped in a department store day job, whose routine is forever shattered by an erotic epiphany -- the appearance of Carol Aird, a customer who comes in to buy her daughter a Christmas toy. Therese begins to stalk the alluring suburban housewife, who is trapped in a marriage as stultifying as Therese's job. They fall in love and set out across the United States, pursued by a private investigator who eventually blackmails Carol into a choice between her daughter and her lover."
Oh. Please. Did the person who wrote this blurb actually read the novel? A few items are accurate -- Therese is a set designer, and she and Carol do meet when Carol comes into the store where Therese works. They do fall in love, do take a cross country trip, and are pursued by a PI, as they eventually discover. Fine. But Therese isn't trapped in her job -- she works for a month as a Christmas temp, then gets a job designing the set for an off-Broadway play. Carol isn't trapped either -- her divorce is already in the works when she and Therese meet. And Therese doesn't "stalk" Carol -- Carol gives Therese her address so she can have a package shipped, and Therese sends her an innocuous Christmas card. Carol then calls the store and asks Therese out to lunch. Sending a Christmas card is stalking? This reminds me of Michael Medved's outrageous review of Brokeback Mountain, in which he called Heath Ledger's character a sexual predator. And "erotic ephiphany"? WTF does that mean? Oh yeah, and the PI doesn't blackmail Carol, although he does sell her two reels of audio tape for $500, which was a lot more money back then.
No one seems to know who originally published the book. The copyright page says it was "originally published in the USA by The Naiad Press, Tallahassee, FL in 1952," which is utter bullshit. Naiad was founded in 1972 or 1973, depending on who you ask. HIghsmith's biographer, Andrew Wilson (Beautiful Shadow), says the book was originally published by Harper and Brothers, who published Strangers On a Train, but in her own Afterword Highsmith says Harper rejected the book and she had to go with "another publisher." It was eventually published by Bantam as a pulp, but it came out in hardback first, which is why it isn't excerpted in Katherine V. Forrest's anthology Lesbian Pulp Fiction -- Forrest doesnt' consider it a true pulp because it wasn't a paperback original.
After all that, the book is . . . . okay. Some of the language is absolutely beautiful, but I never believed in Therese and Carol's love. It just never felt real to me. Carol alternately spoils Therese and treats her like crap, while Therese worships Carol. I suppose that's believable, but I never got what made them love each other, why they would give up so much for each other. Of course in the end, Therese realizes there are some things she isn't willing to give up, and I liked that -- she really does grow from this experience. But then I didn't quite buy the ending.
I have mixed reactions to Highsmith generally -- so far, I have wanted to like her work more than I actually do. I haven't yet read Strangers on a Train or The Talented Mr. RIpley, though, so I suppose I should reserve judgment.