Given the title and the content, I'm very surprised that there is no mention of Dostoevsky's wife Anna [0]. She was hired as a stenographer on his novel The Gambler to help him to finish it on time, since if he failed to do so, the copyright of any future work of his for the next several years would be in jeopardy. It took a while to find a rhythm (Dostoevsky was hard to keep up with), but once they did, they managed to meet the deadline, and a relationship between them was born.
From her Memoirs:
Anna describes how Dostoevsky began his marriage proposal by outlining the plot of an imaginary new novel, as if he needed her advice on female psychology. In the story an old painter makes a proposal to a young girl whose name is Anya. Dostoevsky asked if it was possible for a girl so young and different in personality to fall in love with the painter. Anna answered that it was quite possible. Then he told Anna: "Put yourself in her place for a moment. Imagine I am the painter, I confessed to you and asked you to be my wife. What would you answer?" Anna said: "I would answer that I love you and I will love you forever."
My mother typed up the final draft of Jonathan Livingston Seagull for my father, Richard Bach. She always claimed that she had made editorial adjustments to it, along the way, without his knowledge.
He left her when the book became famous, so we (his children) never knew how much of Mom’s boast to believe.
As a young impressionable teen, I devoured all books and Richard Bach was one of my fav authors. Seagull, of course, but also One and the Adventures of the Reluctant Messiah (can’t recall the title). I loved his writing and gave copies to all my friends in high school / college.
Was especially popular among the girls, so that helped :)
Always wondered about his family. Would love to hear more about him if you’re willing to share.
Speaking of popular with the girls: my wife met me by targeting me specifically because I was the son of Richard Bach and she thought that meant I would understand her.
In a 35-year unpublished longitudinal study, I have confirmed her theory.
(I am always happy to talk to readers of Dad's work. my contact info is at satisfice.com)
Add Bulgaria too. I liked Illusions but a good friend of mine was simply in love with it, bought and gave copies to everyone. And for his birthday last year I almost gave him a signed copy of the Seagull I saw at a local second hand bookshop in LA. I hesitated because of the price and when I came back it was gone.
I reviewed a couple my father’s later books, at his request, although he didn’t much like my feedback. He thought of me as cold and aggressive, while he was trying to write about transcendent love.
But one phrase from a letter of mine made it into One, and that was exciting.
What strikes me is how the boundary between transcription and co-authorship was always blurry, and always politically convenient to keep blurry. If you call it typing, you don't have to share credit or pay more. If you call it editing, the myth of singular genius gets complicated.
Bosanquet didn't just transcribe James — she learned to anticipate his rhythms, suggest phrasings, shape the final text. That's creative labor by any honest definition. But the typewriter gave everyone a convenient fiction: she's operating a machine, therefore it's mechanical, therefore it doesn't count.
We're watching the same pattern replay right now with a different machine.
>We're watching the same pattern replay right now with a different machine.
Yeah I could tell from your "Bosanquet didn't just transcribe James — she learned to anticipate his rhythms, suggest phrasings, shape the final text" sentence.
Given the title and the content, I'm very surprised that there is no mention of Dostoevsky's wife Anna [0]. She was hired as a stenographer on his novel The Gambler to help him to finish it on time, since if he failed to do so, the copyright of any future work of his for the next several years would be in jeopardy. It took a while to find a rhythm (Dostoevsky was hard to keep up with), but once they did, they managed to meet the deadline, and a relationship between them was born.
From her Memoirs:
0: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_DostoevskayaMy mother typed up the final draft of Jonathan Livingston Seagull for my father, Richard Bach. She always claimed that she had made editorial adjustments to it, along the way, without his knowledge.
He left her when the book became famous, so we (his children) never knew how much of Mom’s boast to believe.
Oh wow! What a story.
As a young impressionable teen, I devoured all books and Richard Bach was one of my fav authors. Seagull, of course, but also One and the Adventures of the Reluctant Messiah (can’t recall the title). I loved his writing and gave copies to all my friends in high school / college. Was especially popular among the girls, so that helped :)
Always wondered about his family. Would love to hear more about him if you’re willing to share.
Speaking of popular with the girls: my wife met me by targeting me specifically because I was the son of Richard Bach and she thought that meant I would understand her.
In a 35-year unpublished longitudinal study, I have confirmed her theory.
(I am always happy to talk to readers of Dad's work. my contact info is at satisfice.com)
Glad to hear her theory worked :) Happy for you
I'll reach out separately, thanks!
BTW, my fav book of his was the _Illusions_. Pls feel free to tell him that a young kind in SmallTown, India really loved it.
Going by his wikipedia, he seems to be just a bit older than my dad. I couldn't have guessed at all.
Add Bulgaria too. I liked Illusions but a good friend of mine was simply in love with it, bought and gave copies to everyone. And for his birthday last year I almost gave him a signed copy of the Seagull I saw at a local second hand bookshop in LA. I hesitated because of the price and when I came back it was gone.
There's a great NPR piece about Vonnegut's daughter - who read and gave feedback on Slaughterhouse-Five.
N VONNEGUT: And I have to say, when I was reading, he would be in the next room. If I laughed, he'd come running in because...
INSKEEP: (Laughter).
N VONNEGUT: ...That is what mattered (laughter).
INSKEEP: He'd want to know which joke landed.
N VONNEGUT: Absolutely, every time.
I reviewed a couple my father’s later books, at his request, although he didn’t much like my feedback. He thought of me as cold and aggressive, while he was trying to write about transcendent love.
But one phrase from a letter of mine made it into One, and that was exciting.
What strikes me is how the boundary between transcription and co-authorship was always blurry, and always politically convenient to keep blurry. If you call it typing, you don't have to share credit or pay more. If you call it editing, the myth of singular genius gets complicated.
Bosanquet didn't just transcribe James — she learned to anticipate his rhythms, suggest phrasings, shape the final text. That's creative labor by any honest definition. But the typewriter gave everyone a convenient fiction: she's operating a machine, therefore it's mechanical, therefore it doesn't count.
We're watching the same pattern replay right now with a different machine.
>We're watching the same pattern replay right now with a different machine.
Yeah I could tell from your "Bosanquet didn't just transcribe James — she learned to anticipate his rhythms, suggest phrasings, shape the final text" sentence.
Never read an article with so many references to _amaneunsis_ (A word I recall from from TOEFL prep)
Of course , the whole article is about amaneunses and their (often) overlooked, underpaid, or under-appreciated labor.
The spelling of the word is amanuensis. To help remember, it's based on "manus" meaning “hand”.
Duh
I should have checked before writing it. :-/