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Stet Paperback – Mar 17 2009


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Product Details

  • Paperback: 170 pages
  • Publisher: Granta; New edition edition (March 17 2009)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 1862074402
  • ISBN-13: 978-1862074408
  • Product Dimensions: 13.1 x 1.8 x 19.7 cm
  • Shipping Weight: 200 g
  • Average Customer Review: 4.8 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (5 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Bestsellers Rank: #853,962 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Product Description

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Diana Athill has had a most interesting and varied life, and the title she has chosen for her autobiography is proofreaders' jargon for "Let it stand". In other words: no regrets. It's a fine title. As a grand old lady of British publishing, Athill can look back on 50 years of work with the great Andre Deutsch, and many close-working relationships with writers such as VS Naipaul, Jean Rhys and Brian Moore. One of the distinguishing features of Athill's book is its honesty, both with her colleagues and with herself. (She has already been scolded by another reviewer for revealing that she had an affair with Andre Deutsch, and once kissed one of her authors). Her portrait of Brian Moore is not always very flattering, and as for Naipaul, it is with a sigh of relief that she admits that they are no longer friends, and she is free to admire him simply as a writer, if not as a man. And there is a whole chapter devoted to a forgotten and tragic character called Alfred Chester, whom Athill edited for a while. He ended up in Israel living virtually as a hermit, until he died of heart failure brought on by drink and drugs. It was all "horribly sad". The final sense, however, is one of tremendous energy and enthusiasm for all things bookish, and one can relish the grand, throwaway manner. Of her early girlhood, she recalls simply, "Reading was what one did indoors, as riding was what one did out of doors".--Christopher Hart --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Review

Stet is the proof-reader's word for "let it stand". Diana Athill's STET is a well-named example of the kind of publishing memoir that we sadly lack in Canada. Now eighty-seven, she was a co-founder of André Deutsch Limited and its chief editor throughout decades of success until its sale in 1985. During WWII she had worked in the Overseas News Service of the B.B.C. André, then a recent immigrant from Hungary, had been briefly interned as an enemy alien, but released to begin his climb to publishing eminence as a salesman for a minor firm. They began to work as a team in 1945 when they founded Allan Wingate Publishing. André rented the ground floor of a house near Marble Arch, and they moved in with a skeleton staff and $3000 capital-"it was generally held that no publishing company could make a go of it with less than 15,000 pounds." Most of the work was done in one large front room. She remembers registering surprise one lunchtime when she looked around to find that three others, one of them dealing with a woman and two children, had all been working, completely engrossed, around her: "So there we were, the strain and gloom of war gradually fading away behind us, starting out on a delightful adventure supported and exhilarated by the energies and abilities of the man who had launched it. Even if the ride had its bumpy moments there was no question of wishing to climb down."
The first half of STET tells the story of their publishing venture, the second relates her adventures with specific authors. Overall, she says, "a friendship between a publisher and a writer is ... well, not impossible, but rare." The tasks of an editor are multitudinous: she edited, copy-edited, proof-read and looked after advertising, including ad design. André bought books, thought up books, dealt with authors, printers, binders, book-sellers, making at least one all-important trip a year to American where he picked up many of their most successful books. "He had learnt his way about his trade so rapidly and so thoroughly that it was not fanciful to describe him as someone who had found his vocation." He also nagged his staff unremittingly-she describes him as "perhaps the most difficult man in London." Her vignettes are the meat of the book-André's rejection of Orwell's Animal Farm because he was by no means certain that he would be able to start a firm, the extended farce that accompanied the banning and final publication of Mailer's The Naked and the Dead, and its aftermath: "overnight we began to be seen as a brave and dashing little firm." Before long, however, because of chronic lack of funds and André's propensity for rash "gentlemen's agreements ," Allan Wingate was liquidated and André Deutsch begun. This time they had a growing and lasting success until the mid-eighties when, with André's health as well as his temper deteriorating and recession bedeviling their finances, the firm was sold and both Deutsch and Athill retired.
The André Deutsch imprint attracted many best-selling authors, among them Margaret Atwood, Mordecai Richler, Brian Moore, Philip Roth, John Updike and Vidia Naipaul. Part II, roughly the last half of STET, is a candid memoir of Athill's relationships with authors, an extended essay on the trials and triumphs of a markedly individual and often difficult group of people. There is a warm glow of pleasure to be had in reading her praise of Richler and Moore, as men and writers. We share in both her amusement and amazement at the foibles patiently endured and at the continuing strangeness of people whose work we know well but of whose individuality we have had no idea. Because of the transparent subjectivity of his works, it will surprise no one to know that Naipaul is an unremittingly thin-skinned, touchy and generally difficult man and writer, perhaps her most difficult challenge. Over the years, André Deutsch published eighteen of his works, every one a triumph of editorial tact and patience. Finally, it is with both pleasure and satisfaction that one reads such a conclusion as STET's: "I wake up every morning liking being here...I also wake up knowing that I have been extraordinarily lucky, and a good chunk of that luck came with the job. When I was moved to scribble 'STET' against the time I spent being an editor it was because it gave so many kinds of enlargement, interest, amusement and pleasure to my days." Clara Thomas (Books in Canada) -- Books in Canada --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

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Format: Paperback
Anyone who has ever worked in newspapers or publishing will be familiar with 'stet', an age-old editor's term for 'let it stand', meaning disregard any and all changes.
This is an apt title for a memoir from one of London's best known and highly regarded editors, Dianna Athill, who spent 50 years massaging the words and assisting in the careers of many literary powerhouses, including V.S. Naipaul, Jean Rhys and Mordecai Richler as well as America's Norman Mailer, John Updike and John Kenneth Galbraith.
These feats are worth trumpeting but Athill, now in her 80s, chronicles her working life in an alluring, understated fashion: "All this book is, is the story of an old ex-editor who imagines that she will feel a little less dead if a few people read it."
'Stet: an editor's life' does a lot more than that. It gives writers and readers a fresh insight into the challenges of publishing as well as the trade's peaks and troughs throughout the latter half of the 20th century, before the conglomerates dominated.
Athill founded with Andre Deutsch a publishing house in the early 1950s which bore his name. Despite its small size and meagre means, the house and Athill's reputation gained a great deal of attention in England, not only for the calibre of writers they attracted, but their publishing approach. One of the most controversial incidents occurred early on when the publishing house was presented with an injunction against publishing Norman Mailer's first book, 'The Naked and the Dead' because of its profane language.
Athill covers this and many other anecdotes about writers and the writing life in a rich, honest manner.
'Stet' will interest writers as well as avid readers.
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Format: Paperback
Reading Stet is like taking a seminar in the art and craft of editing and then being invited to tea with the professor afterward. While reading it, I remembered that the relationships most responsible for shaping my professional life were those I enjoyed with professors who made themselves available outside of the classroom or office. I was particularly lucky over the course of college and graduate school to enjoy the company of three wise, interesting, experienced scholars who had spent what amounted to a whole lifetime in the "real world" before beginning their academic careers. That Athill's finely crafted memoir reminded me of my debt to Dr. A-, Mr. R-, and Mrs. S- is the highest recommendation I can give.
Consider this gem:
"[A]n editor must never expect thanks (sometimes they come, but them must always be seen as a bonus). We must always remember that we are only midwives - if we want praise for progeny we must give birth to our own."
Or this (she is writing about the shrinking population of critical readers):
"Of course a lot of them still read; but progressively a smaller lot, and fewer and fewer can be bothered to dig into a book that offers any resistance. Although these people may seem stupid to us, they are no stupider than we are: they just enjoy different things."
Whether you edit church bulletin or your city's daily, whether you answer phones at a small press in the hopes of moving up or you cull gems from the slush pile, don't miss Athill's attempt to prevent her experience from being erased with her passing.
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By A reader on March 16 2002
Format: Hardcover
Writing at a very young 83, Diana Athill says of her memoir, Stet, "Why am I going to write it? Not because I want to provide a history of British publishing in the second half of the twentieth century, but because I shall not be alive for much longer, and when I am gone all the experiences stored in my head will be gone too - they will be deleted with one swipe of the great eraser, and something in me squeaks 'Oh no - let at least some of it be rescued!' It seems to be an instinctive twitch rather than a rational intention, but no less compelling for that. By a long-established printer's convention, a copy editor wanting to rescue a deletion puts a row of dots under it and writes 'Stet' (let it stand) in the margin. This book is an attempt to 'Stet' some part of my experience in its original form...."
And if it hadn't been for that "instinct," some of the best published works of our time might never have seen the light of day. Athill spent 50 years in publishing, most of them at London's Andre Deutsch Limited, working with the likes of Jean Rhys, Norman Mailer, George Orwell, V.S. Naipaul, Jack Kerouac and Peggy Guggenheim.
She has some great stories; among them, the plight Orwell faced in seeking a publisher for Animal Farm, and Mailer in the same situation due to the excessive use of profanity in his manuscript of The Naked and the Dead.
And she's funny, too. Of a co-worker, she explains, "Nick edited our nonfiction - not all of it, and not fast. He was such a stickler for correctness that he often had to be mopped-up after, when his treatment of someone's prose had been over-pedantic, or when his shock at a split infinitive had diverted his attention from some error of fact.
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