A well-known London publisher has just been lamenting upon the unintelligent apeing of American habits in the publishing business, and lamenting especially the fact that a book must be "news" nowadays if it is to get any attention in the Press. In order that a book may become "news" there is an unblushing intrusion into the intimate affairs and private life of the author. If the book cannot be "news," then, by all means, make "news" of the author. Crooks, tramps, bootleggers, and such persons are, of course, the best possible material, and there is, perhaps, in consequence, a tendency to publish an ever-growing number of books by retired burglars, reprieved murderers, deserters from the Foreign Legion, and leaders of the gangs which infest American cities. These authors get the necessary "kick" into their publicity.
The poor old "blurb" comes in for some hard knocks from many quarters from time to time, but this publisher reminds its detractors that it is, after all, a recent invention of American writers intended to convey to the reader something of what was conveyed by Victorian titles. He points out that in Victorian days titles were more expressive than they are today, and that such a title as "Ought we to call on Her?" conveyed as much to the reader as the "blurb" of our day. "Sometimes," he says, "one wishes that the titular 'blurb' could come once more into the mode." It would blend easily (and, perhaps, humanise) the prevalent taste for slogans. "He Knew He Ought Not to Inflate" (a Romance of the Exchequer), "Should She Have Scratched?" (A Story of Wimbledon). Such titles would certainly go a long way to make the "blurb" unnecessary.
The Irish Times
December 17th, 1928.