The History of the Ginger Man

by J. P. Donleavy

  Should we be able to reach a final agreement and presuming that I revise Sebastian Dangerfield in say within two to three months, when would you propose publication?

  In the matter of 500 probably clothbound copies for British and American markets, I would be prepared to accept your offer of 10%, but, as you point out, it involves risks for author and publisher, and I think it would be best for me to make a decision on this later.

  I note you have returned my MS by registered post and thank you. I look forward to hearing from you.

  Yours sincerely,

  J. P. Donleavy

  My assertions concerning my revisions in the manuscript did reserve my position, as my reply to John Hall Wheelock did, which I knew beforehand could not be fully carried out, but at least it let the publisher know that I was in some sympathy with his observations. However, as I had already been long accustomed to the fact that everyone’s opinions would be as subjective as one’s own, and vary accordingly, that one’s own opinion in the end must take priority over all. The manuscript of The Ginger Man was certainly hefty enough. And although the style of one’s writing was already concise and condensed, I knew there existed sentences and descriptions which might beneficially be either shortened or eliminated. But I was now aware too that I had perfected knowing when words had reached the point where they were saying exactly what I wanted them to say and also knew instinctively that they were in their final form, and each word relying on every other in a paragraph for its full meaning.

  THE OLYMPIA PRESS

  January 13th 1955

  Dear Mr. Donleavy,

  Thank you for your letter of January 11th.

  I am afraid that I cannot accept your counter proposal. I am willing to raise amount payable for the first printing to Frs. 250,000, but I have good reasons not to go any further.

  Our “Season” begins in April; if we could receive the final MS by the end of March, we could bring out the book in April or May.

  Yours sincerely,

  M. Girodias

  As the grip of negotiation tightened, our letters immediately constricted in wordage, and there was added a couple of more days to these recent exchanges.

  January 17th 1955

  Dear Mr. Girodias,

  Thank you for your letter of January 13th.

  I will accept your offer.

  Could you let me know what formalities, if any, are necessary to obtain Copyright protection in my name in France and on Continent?

  As an alternative to S.D., I offer The Ginger Man as a title.

  Due to the possibility that my final MS might again be held for some time by customs and delay delivery to you, I wonder if you would be good enough to keep in mind and let me know of any person who may be making trip, London–Paris, end of March, with whom I could entrust MS.

  Yours sincerely,

  J. P. Donleavy

  The significance of the title was that “Ginger” did to some degree describe Dangerfield not only in coloration but also in mettle and spirit. And this letter in its stamped envelope I gave to Philip to post in the local letterbox. We then took a Number 11 bus to Victoria to look for a chair to buy in the Army and Navy store. Meanwhile, in Fulham, I had continued to repair and improve the rooms we lived in and laid the best quality obtainable of squares of linoleum on the small sitting room floor. One evening the two gentlemen from whom I’d bought the squares and who had been laying the same at the new London Heathrow Airport called to see how I was getting on. Upon observing my floor and the expert job done, I was offered for the first and last time in my life a job which was to join them finishing their contract at the airport. I was of course greatly delighted but declined this pleasing suggestion, feeling that I was on my way as an author, and especially now as came the first signs from Girodias of publishing cheerfulness, optimism and hope.

  THE OLYMPIA PRESS

  January 19th 1955

  Dear Mr. Donleavy,

  Thank you for your letter of January 17. I take good note of your agreement.

  I do hope that we will help to make a success of your book. I think that we might find a publisher for an eventual French version, if you are interested.

  Your new title, The Ginger Man, seems much better than Sebastian Dangerfield to me. However, if you find something else, please let me know.

  I am anxious to know when the final MS will be available.

  Yours sincerely,

  M. Girodias

  My previous year’s income from writing was thirty-six pounds, ten shillings. An amount that at the rate of my abstemious outgoings of five pounds a week did mean in Broughton Road that I had added seven weeks to my family’s survival. A period not seeming a lot longer to stay alive but emotionally encouraging if one thought sunnier climes were ahead and one generously applied one’s imagination. And now with the suggestion of a French version, there was even a modest hint of fulfilling Behan’s predictions in Paris of a cafe’s habitués getting to their feet to applaud one’s appearance. Indeed for the first time, one felt a considerable measure of anticipation and accomplishment as I immediately applied myself every day to the manuscript. Plus my four previous publications in Britain had been meeting with an admiring word or two from odd readers. Although I wisely stayed true to my usual policy of allowing myself to remain wracked with humility.

  January 27th 1955

  Dear Mr. Girodias,

  Thank you for your letter of January 19th and also for MS, which I have safely received.

  At moment I can’t predict exactly when MS will be ready. At present I’m finishing revision of last 50 pages. Then must rewrite first 100 but in middle part, I may be able to paste over revision and this should save time. However, in a fortnight or so, I should be able to give an approximate date.

  Meanwhile, I’d be very grateful if you could send me a draft of your proposed contract to which your offer is subject.

  I do appreciate your kind wish for the success of my book, and look forward to hearing from you.

  Yours sincerely,

  J. P. Donleavy

  Ah, but here in my last two sentences of this January 27th letter are, as one sees now, some slightly timorous and innocent words suggesting more than just modesty and perhaps just that little hint of inviting to get hit soundly from behind with a crowbar. But also my letter contained the first mention of that all-pervading legal word, “contract.” And if Girodias was already planning to publish The Ginger Man as a pornographic work and perhaps even scheming to cheat me, the word “contract” should have alerted him to some measure of caution. But at this stage, I could think only that at last the bitter battle to put the mealymouthed in their cowardly place along with the doubters and begrudgers had arrived. I was even for the second time taking the initiative in correspondence.

  February 10th 1955

  Dear Mr. Girodias,

  I’ve finished a revision which includes last one hundred pages from which I’ve cut thirty-seven. And am now working on first hundred and middle.

  As far as I can now judge, I should be able to finish MS by March 25th and, of course, will try to do so sooner, if possible. At that time I hope to find someone to deliver it to you.

  I would be interested in an eventual French version. Could you let me know what page size you intend book to be.

  Yours sincerely,

  J. P. Donleavy

  Throughout the previous month of January, I was not without worry pangs over The Ginger Man but felt the work itself would always withstand all that might be adverse visited against it. My life now including visits to Holland Park also consisted of daily walks and travels around London with Philip, visiting museums and galleries. And even calling at the Ritz Hotel to pee. Here observing people in elegant clothes and glittering with jewels, and a long, long way away from Fulham. And then arrived a letter which seemed like a forthright piece of information and warning.

  THE OLYMPIA PRESS

  February 11th 1955

  Dear Mr. Donleavy,
<
br />   Thank you for your letter of February 10th.

  I am glad to hear that your revision is progressing in a satisfactory manner. I do hope that you will be able to complete the job quickly.

  We should now start advertising the book for publication in May, and we therefore have to decide on the title and the author’s name.

  The Ginger Man does suit me as a title; but I would like to know whether you want the book to be published under your own name or under a pseudonym? Please think it over. Of course, my firm has a rather scandalous reputation, and it might harm you in some way to publicly admit any connection with us.… On the other hand, we have published the works of a few quite genuine writers; so I will leave you free to choose your own solution.… Please let me know what you decide in that respect.

  Yours sincerely,

  M. Girodias

  This letter came somewhat as a surprise, for it now appeared written by someone who assumed there could be a question as to the author declaring himself the creator of a work the publisher referred to as having striking qualities. But for the first time it indicated that Girodias’s opinion of the work, and referring to its striking qualities, might be in the sense of “pornography,” a word I interpreted as meaning deliberately written obscenity which was obvious in titles listed in the catalogue I had now received. I had not yet come across the Olympia Press’s pseudonymous and pornographic works which, if they were then in existence in England, were not openly circulated or openly available for sale. But since I had seen Samuel Beckett’s book Watt and the literary magazine Merlin, and Girodias had mentioned that he published genuine authors, I assumed by his most recent letter and sending his catalogue that I was not to be left innocent of his other less literary works. In any event, if I had any qualms concerning his warning, I waited no longer than twenty-four hours to state my position.

  That I had written a work now called The Ginger Man and wanted it published under my own name as the author.

  Self-portrait of the honest-faced young man.

  THE OLYMPIA PRESS

  February 17th

  Dear Mr. Donleavy,

  Thank you for your letter of February 14th.

  We are prepared to send you review copies outside France and would like to know whether you have a list of reviewers, etc., to whom you would like the books to be sent.

  As to advertising, we might also, if we obtained a few good reviews, advertise in certain English and eventually American papers.

  Yours sincerely,

  M. Girodias

  Upon the arrival of Girodias’s reply, it seemed now as if we were back on course, with the steps to be taken to assist The Ginger Man’s assault upon the world. And as momentum increased toward publication, I attempted to find names to have the book sent to, and wrote the following letter.

  February 28th 1955

  Dear Mr. Girodias,

  Thank you for your letter of February 17th.

  I don’t have a list of reviewers offhand but one or two to whom I would like copies sent and will forward these on to you.

  I offer another possible title: Even on judgment Day.

  Yours sincerely,

  J. P. Donleavy

  From Trinity College, Dublin, there had come into being a small group consisting of Paul Allen and Brian Parker, who, along with an Igor Chroustchoff, a Londoner, would occasionally invite me to assemble with them and take walks along the Thames towpath or meet in Fleet Street for a drink. All of these gentlemen had seen the manuscript of The Ginger Man and were interested to hear of its progress with the Olympia Press. They were, unlike Behan and Lead Pipe Daniel the Dangerous, quietly studious and eminently polite. But, like Behan and Lead Pipe, were scholarly and highly literate, and were the closest I was ever to get in England to associating with men of letters who soberly took the culture of the written word seriously. Brian Parker one evening in Fleet Street saying,

  “Mike, you’ve got to read a wonderful book, Catcher in the Rye, by J. D. Salinger, a work that’s gone hand to hand around the world.”

  And it was from such gentlemen not only that I was to get an idea of what books to read, but also a list of possible reviewers to send to the Olympia Press.

  March 1st 1955

  Dear Mr. Girodias,

  The following is a list of the publications to which you might send review copies. Should I find more or reviewers who want to review book, I will send these on to you.

  Irish Times

  Irish Press

  Spectator

  Manchester Guardian

  Truth

  Punch

  Paul Allen, c/o Courier

  Time & Tide

  Brian Parker, c/o Belfast Newsletter

  Sunday Times

  Encounter

  The London Magazine

  I realize my last suggested title may have been sent too late to you. However, could you let me know what you’ve decided, as it bears on one or two points in book.

  I have cut about twenty pages out of first hundred. In middle I find most revision is a matter of cutting and I may be able to finish sooner. Could you advise me on any special way I might mail MS to prevent its being held by customs. Will you send me any copies for my own use.

  Yours sincerely,

  J. P. Donleavy

  I was now rapidly working on the last manuscript pages, bringing them with me with Philip on the 28 bus to Holland Park. As Gainor had gone to Spain, the place he always planned to go to, this route reminded of him as it went along the long line of market stalls of the North End Road and passed near the pork pie factory and the purple house, where Gainor had lived in well-organized respectability with Pamela on Lillie Road. The bus route continued through West Kensington and past a drinking spot of Gainor’s in North End Crescent which sported an open fireplace, carpets and mahogany staircase, and was his most frequently visited. Then further on came one of Gainor’s favorite names for a pub, the Live and Let Live. And into this tavern, he had more than once tugged me by the arm to drink.

  As the weather got warmer we made this trip to Holland Park nearly every day. I came to sit near the formal gardens and on a terrace where each day nannies and au pairs wheeled their charges and where I would frequently meet the same charming French au pair. But if I came early enough, I chose to go sit alone on a bench in a brick shelter built into the garden wall. There were occasional contretemps among these mostly well behaved children. However, more often there came a particular situation which seemed to arise in a thicket of shrubbery where various little boys would, having disappeared into these bushes, suddenly emerge running, screaming and leaving behind them another little boy whom they would accuse of hitting them. It was with this alleged perpetrator of such crime that Philip, but no one else, seemed to get on famously. And one day a man came to sit down next to me.

  “You don’t mind if I sit down here, do you. For moral support. My boy seems not to get on with anyone else’s children except your son. My name’s Robert Pitman.”

  It was true that Philip seemed to exert an extraordinary charm with other children. Even leading to an ambassador’s son refusing to go away on holidays because he could not bear to miss playing with Philip in the park. However, Philip occasionally chose to be less than his pleasant charming self, when, one day returning from Holland Park and waiting for the bus, he leaned over and sank his teeth deep into my thigh and my scream of agony opened up windows for miles around. However, in my more peaceful moments, I was now writing in my last corrections and emendations and making my final preparations to sending off the manuscript to the Olympia Press. Upon Pitman seeing the manuscript, he inquired concerning it and the work I was doing. He then said he wrote articles for a Labour Party newspaper and occasionally for the Sunday Express, which latter paper’s staff he’d just been asked to join. He asked if a review copy of The Ginger Man might be sent him on publication. An eventuality that was to bring about the fame of Lolita and to affect the entire literary career of Vladimir Nabokov. />
  As the news spread of the impending publication in Paris, Chroustchoff, Parker and Allen knew of further names interested to get a review copy of the novel, and I duly added these to send to Girodias. And as Robert Pitman would come to play a role in the saga of Lolita, drawing his newspaper’s attention to Graham Greene’s recommendation of this work, so also would Derek Stanford, a name I was about to send to the Olympia Press, come to be instrumental in eventually finding a British publisher for The Ginger Man. And the title of this novel at last confirmed. Never having regarded my ability as being outstanding to name a work, and somehow having always felt my attempts to do so inadequate, I did have sense enough in this case to leave well enough alone.

  March 11th 1955

  Dear Mr. Girodias,

  I have but to go through the MS once more quickly and I should then be able to send it on to you. I will leave the title The Ginger Man.

  Following are two reviewers and a periodical to which I would like review copies sent:

  Robert Graecen, c/o Truth (have sent address with original list)

  Derek Stanford, 46 Lulworth Avenue, Lampton, Houndslow, Middlesex

  The Listener, BBC, Broadcasting House, Portland Place, London W.I.

  Unfortunately at this time I can’t find a person going to Paris with whom I could entrust MS, so must post it. However, I will wait till I hear from you before doing so.

  Yours sincerely,

  J. P. Donleavy

  THE OLYMPIA PRESS

  March 15th 1955

  Dear Mr. Donleavy,

  Thank you for your letter of March 11th.