I found the following anecdote today, congratulations must go to Jesse Glass for this discovery and its presentation in his brief article 'How Do We Pigeonhole That, Mr. Fort? (The link to it is given below).
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"Rarely, nowadays, can anyone devise a startling title for a book. All the surprises and sensations have been tried. The author has to shout pretty loud or else use a big Damn.
A few years ago, a writer did exactly this, and produced a large and impressive book, whose title made everyone jump.
The contents were readable; there was evidence of great industry, and some indication of scholarship. It did not seem to be the work of a crank.
Yet when one came to discover what it was all about -and this required patience- the result showed that the author could not easily get a post as a teacher in any scientific institute. For its theme was this:
Great numbers of strange objects -usually called meteorites- have fallen to the earth throughout the centuries. (The author compiled an enormous list of them). These are supposed to be the results of celestial accidents: to be fragments of exploded comets or asteroids. But this theory is entirely wrong. These objects are weapons, thrown with mischievous intent at the inhabitents of the earth, by evil spirits dwelling in the skies.
I forgot how the author explained the bad marxmanship of these spirits -who have so seldom hit even a baby- nor why it is that so many of these missiles fall in waste places of the earth. (Of course, the firing is done at very long range, and the spirits may still be hopeful of knocking over somebody some day).
The author developed his theory in astyle which was, at least, sane; and, if I recollect, even showed some traces of humour -a quality extremely rare in those who practice eccentric literature. His book -which he has followed with another, also astonishing- may have been a hoax. In that case, the object of so much labour is still obscure. A few months after publication, tha author came to the public library, and -as authors sometimes do- asked to see his book. A copy was bought, and he promptly asked the meaning of the shelf mark; some letters or figures on the back. These symbols on library books, for convenience in placing them on the shelves, have a mysterious power to infuriate some people. The librarian, not aware that he was speaking to the author of the book, said that these marks indicate the class of 'Eccentric Literature' - perhaps he may have said 'Books by Cranks.'
There was an instant explosion; followed by weeks of complaint, scolding, and entreaty by the author, who demanded that his book should be classed with those on -well, I cannot imagine what. Astronomical theology? Or did he believe that it should have a class all by itself, and that the older astronomies should be destroyed?
In the end, I think he got part of his desire, but not all. The stubborn librarians would not endorse his amusing treatise as orthodox science. They have that peculiar conservatism: they admit books meant to prove that Bacon wrote Shakespearean plays, but refuse to throw out the ones which show that the earth is flat, but they still let the brutal majority of writers uphold their theory of rotundity.
Nevertheless, embarrassing moments will occur . . . ."
Queer Books
Edmund L. Pearson
(Doubleday, 1927)
Pages 145 - 147
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Link to 'How Do We Pigeonhole That, Mr. Fort? by Jesse Glass:
www.100megsfree4.com/farshores/jg_hdwpt.htm
* * * * *
"Rarely, nowadays, can anyone devise a startling title for a book. All the surprises and sensations have been tried. The author has to shout pretty loud or else use a big Damn.
A few years ago, a writer did exactly this, and produced a large and impressive book, whose title made everyone jump.
The contents were readable; there was evidence of great industry, and some indication of scholarship. It did not seem to be the work of a crank.
Yet when one came to discover what it was all about -and this required patience- the result showed that the author could not easily get a post as a teacher in any scientific institute. For its theme was this:
Great numbers of strange objects -usually called meteorites- have fallen to the earth throughout the centuries. (The author compiled an enormous list of them). These are supposed to be the results of celestial accidents: to be fragments of exploded comets or asteroids. But this theory is entirely wrong. These objects are weapons, thrown with mischievous intent at the inhabitents of the earth, by evil spirits dwelling in the skies.
I forgot how the author explained the bad marxmanship of these spirits -who have so seldom hit even a baby- nor why it is that so many of these missiles fall in waste places of the earth. (Of course, the firing is done at very long range, and the spirits may still be hopeful of knocking over somebody some day).
The author developed his theory in astyle which was, at least, sane; and, if I recollect, even showed some traces of humour -a quality extremely rare in those who practice eccentric literature. His book -which he has followed with another, also astonishing- may have been a hoax. In that case, the object of so much labour is still obscure. A few months after publication, tha author came to the public library, and -as authors sometimes do- asked to see his book. A copy was bought, and he promptly asked the meaning of the shelf mark; some letters or figures on the back. These symbols on library books, for convenience in placing them on the shelves, have a mysterious power to infuriate some people. The librarian, not aware that he was speaking to the author of the book, said that these marks indicate the class of 'Eccentric Literature' - perhaps he may have said 'Books by Cranks.'
There was an instant explosion; followed by weeks of complaint, scolding, and entreaty by the author, who demanded that his book should be classed with those on -well, I cannot imagine what. Astronomical theology? Or did he believe that it should have a class all by itself, and that the older astronomies should be destroyed?
In the end, I think he got part of his desire, but not all. The stubborn librarians would not endorse his amusing treatise as orthodox science. They have that peculiar conservatism: they admit books meant to prove that Bacon wrote Shakespearean plays, but refuse to throw out the ones which show that the earth is flat, but they still let the brutal majority of writers uphold their theory of rotundity.
Nevertheless, embarrassing moments will occur . . . ."
Queer Books
Edmund L. Pearson
(Doubleday, 1927)
Pages 145 - 147
* * * * *
Link to 'How Do We Pigeonhole That, Mr. Fort? by Jesse Glass:
www.100megsfree4.com/farshores/jg_hdwpt.htm