A Literary History of the American West

Unknown Diversity
Small Presses and Little Magazines in the West, 1960–1980

"It concerned me that one reason why it is easier to `sum up' a literature fifty years after its own time is that most of it gets lost and does not have to be dealt with. . . ."
Len Fulton, Small Press Record of Books,
Second Edition, 1969–72, 1972.

". . . remind the archivists of the eighties where to look to explain the seventies–everything is spelled out in the little mags of the sixties."
Marvin Malone, Vagabond 19, 1974.

TODAY MORE WESTERNERS are writing and being published than ever before, Unquestionably, work that not only would never have seen print in the past, but probably should not have, now filters onto pages as a result of the proliferation of literary "little" magazines and small regional presses. It is also true that important, innovative writers who might otherwise have languished unpublished have enriched western letters as a result of that same proliferation. As Michael Anania has suggested, small presses and little magazines "are the fecund churning ground of our literary culture."

In fact, James Sallis may have been even closer to contemporary realities when he observed that, "with current monolithic publishing trends, the little magazine–what it represents in our literature (and terrifyingly, it may be our literature, what is left of it)–becomes ever more essential to us."

The large number of regional publishing outlets that have materialized in the West during the past twenty years constitute the region's most important contemporary literary development. This rush of creative activity may be traced in part at least to the great upsurge of concern and commitment that was born in the civil rights movement of the early 1960s, then continued through that decade's antiwar crusade and ecological awakening, this last being linked closely a growth in literary regionalism and sense of place, while the former two were avatars of both collectivism and antiestablishment impulses that coalesced into independent publishing ventures. Because they buck big business publishing just as they test literary paradigms, lit mags and small presses are counter-cultural in a generative sense, testing what a culture can and should be. As Anania observes, "Throughout the century, American literature has taken its vitality from its own extreme edges, since its center is too often lifeless and boring." Alternative publishing has consistently provided those extreme edges. It is also true that western American writing has itself been considered a kind of edge, not bound by the trends or conventions of either commercial publishing or eastern reviewing. Such major regional voices as Thomas Hornsby Ferril, Frederick Manfred, Jack Schaefer, Charles Bukowski, Ed Dorn, Gary Snyder, Thomas McGrath, Frank Waters and William Stafford, among others, have relied upon small presses to publish various of their works, especially those considered unconventional.

There is nothing new in the fact of small regional presses and magazines–Alan Swallow and Lawrence Ferlinghetti's efforts are legendary– but there is something quite new in their numbers. The initial edition of the International Directory of Little Magazines and Small Presses, published in 1965, totalled 40 pages and 250 listings; editor Len Fulton's 1982 number runs more than 750 pages with over 4,000 listings such as the one below:

BLACK JACK & VALLEY GRAPEVINE, Seven Buffaloes Press, Art Cuelho, Box 249, Big Timber, Montana 59011. 1973. Poetry, fiction, art, photos, interviews, reviews, parts-of-novels, long-poems, collages, "Black Jack: rural poems and stories from anywhere in America, especially the West. Work that tells a story, a craft that shows experience, not only of the head, but of the heart too. I'm more than prejudiced against poems that are made up or forced, even when they are concocted out of the supposed wisdom of some established school. Art is for individuals with strong images and characterizations. Valley Grapevine is taking material native to Central California . . . the San Joaquin and Sacramento Valleys. Especially want work from small town farming communities, anything to do with Okies, hoboes, ranch life, migrant labor, and writers and poets who write predominately of the valley of their birth. Contributors: William Rintoul, Wilma McDaniel, Richard Dokey, Gerald Haslam, Dorothy Rose, Don Thompson, DeWayne Rail, etc." circ. 300–500. 1/yr. pub's 1 issue 1980; expects 1 issue 1981, 1 issue 1982. price per copy: $2.50–$3.50. Discounts: 1–5, 10%; 6–10, 15%, 11–15, 20%; 16–20, 25%; over 20 copies, 30%. 80pp; 51/2X81/2; offset. Reporting time: within a week, often a day or two. Payment: copies. Copyrighted, reverts to author. Pub's reviews: 10 in 1980. Western and rural, Native American, hobo, the road, prisons. No ads. CCLM. (International Directory of Little Magazines and Small Presses, 17th Edition 1981–82, p. 46)

That directory, as well as a Directory of Small/Press Editors and Publishers, a Small Press Record of Books in Print, plus Small Press Review, a monthly, and a Small Press Book Club, are the products of Dustbooks, a Paradise, California publisher. It is run by Len Fulton, himself a novelist, and Ellen Ferber, both of whom became involved in alternative publishing during the 1960s. "The current wave of independent publishing," Ferber has explained, "rose out of the social and political quakes of the sixties. . . . It is some fifteen years later now, and the politics are old, but the wave of independent publishing has not yet crested."

It is alternative periodicals rather than presses that tend to offer the sharpest literary cutting edge, since most writers whose books are published by small regional presses first find print in little magazines. Observed William Carlos Williams,

The little magazine is something I have always fostered; for without it, I myself would have been early silenced. To me it is one magazine, not several. It is a continuous magazine, the only one I know with an absolute freedom. . . .

Lit mags have always existed primarily for writers. Paradoxically, that is what makes them so valuable for readers. It is their openness to new ideas, new subjects, new forms and new writers that sets "littles" apart.

One general division within the ranks of alternative periodicals must be made: university-affiliated journals differ somewhat from their independent counterparts. How and how much they differ is at issue. Journals such as Prairie Schooner, Arizona Quarterly, Southwest Review, Sonoma Mandala, Northwest Review, and South Dakota Review are, of course, more financially secure than unaffiliated magazines. Charles Robinson points out that there are other differences:

The independents feel that not only have the popular magazines sold out, but that the university magazines have followed suit– that . . . the latter . . . have adopted a peculiar academicism as sterile as the policy of popular magazines turning out formula pieces. The university magazines, of course, deny the charge.

A. D. Winans, who publishes Second Coming, claims that the fiction in academic journals is usually "worked over formulas from the past." Ironically, many of the most promising writers now appearing in independent magazines support their writing habits by teaching in colleges. The accusation that university-affiliated periodicals represent "establishment" versions of lit mags is at least partly true. They do tend to avoid radically experimental material of the sort that not only breaks but also challenges existing literary paradigms, possibly offending literary sensibilities. Karl Shapiro, who was dismissed from Prairie Schooner over an issue of censorship, and who has also edited both Poetry and California Quarterly, claims:

In every campus literary venture there is a chain of command that runs from the magazine itself, through the English and other Humanities Departments, through the university press, the administration, and on to public opinion. In extreme cases . . . the controls can go as high as the governors of states and involve the expression of historical fact itself.

Occasionally, as when Coyote's Journal split from Northwest Review, censorship has led staff members of a university journal to venture into independent publishing.

On the other hand, it has been argued that university journals maintain higher if less innovative standards than their independent counterparts, which tend to reflect the tastes of individual editors rather than college administrations. If the lows of journals such as John Bennett's Vagabond or Leo Mailman's Maelstrom Review or Leonard Bird's Rocky Mountain Review tend to be lower than Prairie Schooner's or Arizona Quarterly's or Southwest Review's, from an experimental point of view at least their highs also tend to be higher. Most writers recognize that university magazines seem to be published for coteries and limit their experimental submissions accordingly. The same charge–that they tend to be published for small coteries– may as justifiably be leveled at independent journals. A glance at the International Directory of Little Magazines and Small Presses will give a sense of how many of today's most distinct literary voices may be traced to both kinds of "littles."

A certain reverse snobbery invades independent journals. In one case, they may fall into the trap of publishing experimental work strictly for the sake of being different or to shock readers. Often a militant mediocrity emerges, as pieces which are no more than word games played by fellow contributors are published; it has been suggested that only the published writers read many of the most experimental magazines. Tom Montag of Margins pinpoints another negative aspect of lit mag publishing; since it is easy to be published, it is also easy to develop "the pretension–the smug assumption that innovative writing is a more distinguished and honorable profession than farming or selling lumber."

Traditionally alternative magazines, as well as their less numerous brethren, small presses, have been elitist in that they were not produced for general consumption. Margaret Anderson's motto on the masthead of the Little Review was, "Making no compromise with public taste." As George Hitchcock so eloquently summed matters up in the credo of his muchpraised poetry journal, Kayak:

A kayak is not a galleon, ark, coracle, or speedboat. It is a small, watertight vessel operated by a single oarsman. It is submersible, has sharply pointed ends, and is constructed from light poles and the skins of furry animals. It has never yet been employed as a means of mass transport.

This literary elitism has warred constantly with political populism, the impulse toward mass movements that has attracted liberal-to-left followings. Many a journal founded "for the people" has intended to direct their behavior, not reflect it.

Literary elitism is, of course, nothing new. One thing that is new is that all but the most occasional or unique little magazines are not truly independent, claims to the contrary notwithstanding. A great many have relied upon grants, principally from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Coordinating Council of Literary Magazines (CCLM), and various states' art councils to fund their publications. The late Carey McWilliams commented that the greatest change in American publishing he had seen during his long career was "the move from financing to funding." While he agreed that this development was allowing considerable nontraditional, sometimes remarkably good material to see print, he pointed out that it did so amidst a proliferation of sub-par writing. As Felix Stefanile, who edits Sparrow, has observed, it seems "impossible this side of idiocy not to get published these days."

Stefanile is, however, more troubled by another aspect of available money: "The literary tie-in of an `alternative' publisher with government funding is, if not complete, at the very least tragically strategic . . . the most important thing to happen to the little magazines since the early days of City Lights and The Fifties is not the introduction of cheap offset technology . . . but government intrusion into the arts." The paradox of ostensibly anti-establishment journals publishing on government grants has not passed unnoticed.

One of the major granting agencies, the CCLM, also reflects the collectivist impulses that peaked in the early 1970s. A nonprofit organization that distributes state, federal and private funds to magazines nationwide, it requires that a periodical have published at least three issues and have existed for at least one year before applying for membership or support, requirements that have rankled many small press editors who view such strictures as sellouts to status-quo values.

The other major national collective of editors and publishers, the Committee of Small Magazine Editors and Publishers (COSMEP), imposes no such membership restrictions and boasts a much larger membership. It remains true to its populist roots. Len Fulton recalls how he and Jerry Burns convened in 1967 on the U. C. Berkeley campus the original group that would become COSMEP:

We held the meeting, titled Conference of Small Magazine Editors and Publishers, and attracted eighty editors like ourselves from everywhere in the country. I chaired a panel on distribution . . . It was out of that panel, the first of thousands like it, in an effort to get funds for a catalog of small press publications, that the Committee of Small Magazine/Press Editors and Publishers was born. By November 1968 it had 110 paying members and a self-appointed board of directors.

Today COSMEP remains the largest organization of alternative publishers in the world, and it retains its strongly West Coast flavor. It is dedicated to helping its members obtain less expensive services, better distribution and more political clout.

Generalizations about little magazines apply equally to small presses, since not only are journals and presses often linked, they are frequently products of the same impulse. In fact, more than a few of the finest small press books in recent years began as special numbers of magazines such as South Dakota Review's Native American issue (1972), and TriQuarterly's number on the little magazine in America (1978), both of which were reissued as books, achieving both critical and commercial success.

At a time when the drift toward national homogeneity seems nearly irresistible, western small presses and lit mags resist, insisting on regional realities. To Robert Boyers's admonition–"The function of the little magazine is, must be, to serve to erect and stand by principles of intelligent and imaginative discourse"–must be added the responsibility of recognizing and encouraging regional perceptions as viable vehicles for artistic expressions. Observes Paul Foreman, whose Thorp Springs Press is now the largest publisher of fiction in Texas, "I know far better than a New York editor whether or not a writer really captures what's vital and true in Texas. Our writers shouldn't have to reconstruct reality to meet the expectations of outsiders." Such an attitude is itself both counter-cultural and long overdue.

Tension between university and independent presses is less significant than that between periodicals. In general, university presses print little fiction or poetry, and those forms–especially poetry–are the lifeblood of independents. There are exceptions, of course–Ahsahta Press at Boise State University specializes in poetry, while the University of Illinois Press has developed a highly regarded fiction series–but for every university press publishing fiction or poetry, there are several independents–Duck Down Press, Seven Buffaloes Press, Red Earth Press, San Marcos Press, etc.– doing the same thing, and doing so with fewer artistic restrictions.

The aforementioned Thorp Springs Press, for example, was founded by Foreman in Berkeley. He also edited and published an award-winning poetry journal, Hyperion, and one of the most unusual lit mags, TAWTÉ (Texas Artists, Writers and Thinkers in Exile.) Foreman has since relocated his press in Austin, and has kept over fifty titles in print, poetry, fiction, and nonfiction, including such successful books as Travois: An Anthology of Texas Poetry (1976) which he edited with Joanie Whitebird, Boomer's Gold (1978) by Jack W lk a er, Trotter Ross (1981) by James Hoggard, Playland (1982) by Thomas Zigal, the much-heralded The Stories of Amado Muro (1979) by Chester Seltzer, and Foreman's own Sugarland (1978).

It is not unusual for small presses to publish work by their founders, since many begin as self-publishing ventures. Ernest Callenbach's commercially successful and critically acclaimed fantasy Ecotopia (1976), for instance, was published with his own imprint, Banyan Tree Books. While no concrete figure is available concerning how many small presses remain, let alone began, as self-publishing operations, an educated guess suggests that no less than a quarter of the total at any given time fall into that category.

Most self-publishers have been poets, and it is in the publication of poetry that small presses have long since outstripped their commercial rivals. They have done so for one obvious reason: poetry rarely sells well. Lately, however, small presses have been expanding their collective range. William Abrahams, senior editor at Holt, Rinehart and Winston, hardly a small enterprise, acknowledges that "the gulf is widening . . . between the good and serious book aimed at the serious reader and the commercial, mass market book." Hope for the future, he continues, lies with "small, essentially noncommercial publishers." Fiction, especially innovative fiction, has increasingly become the domain of small presses.

One explanation of how alternative publishers, despite their meagre resources, have managed not only to survive but also to expand their range of activities is that technological advances have actually cut printing costs since the 1960s. Moreover, most small publishers don't expect to make a profit; grants, fund raising, and cash out of their own pockets make them independent, so they are little influenced by trends felt in the Boston/New York/Washington corridor. Theirs is a plowing of literary acreage, a churning that offers hope to writers in all forms and of all styles.

Because of such expanded activity, Robert Fox predicts "a continuing growth and acceptance of the small press during the '80s, with many more readers coming to the small press for fiction as well as poetry." Fiction seems so ascendant that more than a few well-established small press poets are experimenting with it. Reports Carol Berge:

I am more than ever absorbed with the possibilities in fiction– though I continue to work in poetry, I find the challenge lies in fiction, majorly innovative forms such as the one-page novel, the collaged prose-poem, the new short fictions and in general the area between poetry and prose. For me, the act of creating a successful (i.e., interesting and satisfying) piece of short fiction is more challenging and more demanding by far.

So far, the efforts of Berge and her fellow poets to move into fiction have garnered decidedly mixed reviews, but it is the existence of the opportunity that is most significant.

Reviewing, in fact, represents one obvious weak link in the chain from author to reader via alternative press or journal–rivalled only by poor distribution among writers' peeves–because most small press publications, no matter how good, tend to be ignored by major review outlets; such outlets are, after all, dependent on advertising revenues provided by commercial publishers. Unfortunately, the alternative press review scene has itself been rendered untrustworthy by the reluctance of small press people to speak ill of one another's work; negative reviews are frequently greeted with charges of betrayal. As a result, cronyism–you review my book and I'll review yours–has grown, and reliable sources of critical commentary are difficult to find, although American Book Review and regional publications such as Texas Books in Review offer hope.

D. S. Phantom of S and S Press suggests that the cronyism extends beyond reviewing:

Many if not most small press publishers, under the pretext of being "literary" and "independent," contribute to this wastepile [of useless material] by continuing their incestuous publishing game: friend publishes friend, and often neither friend has much taste or talent.

Phantom's point, while exaggerated, nonetheless does reveal another notable small press problem.

David Ray, editor of New Letters, articulates well a growing sentiment among writers, one that promises to create a new split among the already quarrelsome small press and lit mag folks. He asserts that writers are being exploited by sloppy or downright dishonest editorial practices among alternative publishers, and that writers themselves–because they are desperate to see print–are allowing themselves to be misused.

The old myth that artistic integrity will suffer from too much financial reward has been used as an excuse to treat writers like beggars; and writers, in small presses at least, rarely claim the basic integrity of professionals, which the very act of writing assumes.

Ray goes on to assert that authors must familiarize themselves with copyrights, contract law, and other peripheral yet vital aspects of publishing.

Small presses and little magazines remain contentious, flawed, and absolutely necessary to the western American literary scene, for they constantly test limits, suggest new expressions, and introduce new writers, a few of whom develop and enrich our literary heritage. Finally, it is the finished products of alternative publishers that must validate their existence. If at their worst such products are incomprehensible or downright offensive, at their best they represent a fecund realm of possibility that commercial publishers have neither the courage nor the imagination to nurture. Perhaps, as Sallis suggests, "For many years the little magazines were our literary underground; now they are close to becoming our only ground."

Speaking for many of her fellow writers, novelist Paula Christian exults, "Let's hear it for the small presses! They're giving writers a chance no longer available to them in today's conglomerate-ridden world of commercial publishing!" In the West, a region of the mind and of the nation long misunderstood by commercial publishers, alternative publishing has been and remains especially important.

GERALD W. HASLAM, Sonoma State University

Selected Bibliography
Benes, Steven. "Roses are Red, Poets are Blue. . . ." Los Angeles, April 1983, pp. 264–69. Examines contemporary southern Californian poets, revealing the importance of small presses and little magazines to the continuing output of verse.
Clifton, Merritt. "Early Midwestern Litmags." The Pub 6 (Spring 1981): 25–31. One of several important articles on small press and lit mags history by Clifton, who has provided consistently interesting material on the subject.
. "The Watch." Small Press Review 28 (May 1975) to date. This continuing series was a running chronology of small-pressmanship beginning with the year 704 A.D. (the approximate date of the first known printed work, a Korean religious scroll done on wooden blocks). Invaluable.
Friedman, Mickey. "On Publishing Your Own." California Living Magazine/San Francisco Examiner & Chronicle, October 31, 1976, pp. 48, 50. An interesting examination of self-publishing and its role as genesis of many small presses.
Gloor, Don, and Brock Yancey. "Ode to Long Beach Writers Present." University Magazine 5 (Spring 1983): 6–9, 34. A close look at writers from one fecund literary region that reveals the vitality of the small press scene, as well as its indispensability to artists.
Henderson, Bill, ed. The Publish-It-Yourself Handbook: Literary Tradition & How-To. Yonkers: Pushcart Press, 1973. A collection of how-to and how-we-did articles that further examine the importance of self-publishing in American letters.
Hoffman, Frederick J., et al. The Little Magazine. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1946. The classic in this field and a starting point for all further research.
Hume, Martha. "In Memoriam: Alan Swallow 1915–1966." Small Press Review 1 (Spring 1967): 1–2. This biographical article by Hume, an editor at Swallow's Sage Books, is a succinct, moving history of the West's most important small press editor to date. No other piece better summarizes Swallow's accomplishments.
Kleyman, Paul. "Small Press Survival." Western Publisher 1 (October 1980): 1, 8. Examines business aspects of small-pressmanship, pointing out that a solid understanding of both law and merchandising is as necessary for small publishers as for large. Discusses the impact of such matters as interest rates, discounting, distribution, etc.
Pollack, Felix. "Elitism and the Littleness of Little Magazines." Southwest Review 61 (Summer 1976): 297–303. The title tells it all, except that Pollack documents his assertion that "elitist spirit" has characterized the little magazine movement from its inception. This offers perspective on a movement that often tries to pass itself as proletarian.
Small Press Review. Since Spring 1967, the most consistently reliable source of material from and about alternative publishing. Special issues, such as "Literature in the Eighties" (12 : 10/October 1980) or its annual library number, are invaluable. Highly recommended.
Speer, Laurel. "Of What Use Are Reviews in Small Presses?" The Pub 6 (Spring 1981): 45–56. A fascinating survey of small press writers and editors who reveal their own opinions of the relationship of reviews to publishing. There are differing opinions included: some decry cronyism, others laud it; some attack established reviewers, others praise them. A valuable study.
TriQuarterly. Special number: "The Little Magazine in America: A Modern Docu-mentary History." 43 (Fall 1978). Perhaps the most important single volume presently available on lit mags. Its list of contributors reads like a Who's Who, and a wide range of opinions is included. A must. Has been reissued by Pushcart Press as The Little Magazine in America, edited by Elliot Anderson and Mary Kinzie.

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