Why This Essay Was Never Published
“Why this essay was never published”—a most provocative topic. People have in fact constantly asked me questions along this line. “How come we didn’t read you in the New Yorker last week?” they inquire suddenly. Or, “Why didn’t we see your article in last month’s Atlantic?” Until recently I’ve been hard pressed for an answer—and believe me, an answer is extremely important considering the frequency of these questions. For instance, even you (as many others) have often found yourself not reading my essays (including this one) and perhaps wondering why. It is in the hope of clearing up such perplexities that I resolved some time ago on this present project.
Of course the principal reason an essay, article or short story is not published stems from what may be called “the editorial staff.” It is with these dedicated people, who are an important part of any publishing concern, that an answer may be found. But don’t count on it. Normally their replies come in the form of short, cryptic notes, addressed to no one in particular, announcing “No thank you” or “Thank you, but no.”One finds it difficult to discern the reasons behind these broad philosophical statements. For example, in this essay’s quest not to be published I received from one editor much the same elusive answer. “Dear sir,” he wrote (Editors are in the habit of calling me “sir” though I hold no elevated rank. Not one, however, has addressed me by my full name with the abbreviation “Kt.” following it. This has understandably stimulated many quiet evenings of thought on my part.)
Where was I? Oh yes! “Dear sir,” he wrote, “Thank you very much for your submission. Unfortunately, we are unable to print it as it is against our editorial policy.” Needless to say I was perplexed. For what did he mean by “unable to print,” or “unable to print,” let alone other features of his reasoning. Thankfully, scribbled below in his own hand, the editor clarified the situation. He added, “My, an article about an article not being published. How witty! Unfortunately, we are unable to print it as it is against our editorial policy.”
There is little I am able to add to this save that you now have a better understanding of why you’ve never found yourself reading this essay. And it’s too bad, really. The pathos, suspense, humor and wit which are to be found on this printed page will never be found since, indeed, this page was never printed.
Now suppose someone might find himself not reading this essay... At this point we can easily imagine the disgusted reader throwing the article on the floor and saying aloud to himself, “What is this fellow getting at—if not eye strain?” To which I reply merely this: It is totally unfair, I believe, for a reader to knowingly berate an article that was never there. You can’t imagine the feeling of helplessness that comes over a writer under such circumstances.
I remind you that this is no fly-by-night soliloquy. It has circled the globe seven times over—at last count—avoiding the printed all along the way. Indeed, I am told it has the distinction of being the most unread and unpublished piece of writing in the history of western civilization.
Such an important document as this has therefore become greatly beloved by the world’s intelligentsia. Just the other day, I was having tea with Dr. Nikolai Novikov, the world reputed publicist. I asked him what he thought of my essay. In that understated way of his, the noble emigre replied that he did not think he had read it. This was naturally disturbing to the good professor as he had always considered himself abreast with all achievements in the arts and sciences. Beaming, I proudly pointed out to my esteemed companion that my essay was never published! To this, Dr. Novikov gave me one of his wry smiles and asked me if I would like an aspirin.
I could easily cite numerous other examples along this line, but the memory of so many aspirins is still too fresh in my mind. Rather, I will say with pardonable pride that this essay was not printed in Home Mechanics, The Weekly Dry Cleaner, Popular Badminton, or the Intellectual Digest.
In my weaker moments I must admit I debated on whether or not to rename this essay. I thought it might be more eye-catching if it had a more startling title, perhaps along the lines of “The Essay Nobody Dared Print—And Didn’t!” But this was not at all satisfactory... for maybe someone might have taken the dare and printed it. Then where would I be? In print, that’s where, right in the middle of a sea of commercialism. No, I would rather have the quiet satisfaction of obscurity, which any sophisticate will tell you is the higher art form.
Therefore I shall continue my quest undaunted and unswayed to ensure this essay never reaches the printed page. Eventually, I hope to have it placed as the first reading in my Collected, Unpublished Essays, which I never intend to collect. Don’t look for it in bookstores near you.
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This “thing” first appeared in the University of Nevada, Sagebrush, on January 30, 1976.Save
