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Ralph Ellison - seated - from WikipediaRalph Waldo Ellison, author of The Invisible Man, didn’t just leave behind handwritten and typed manuscripts, but also dozens of computer disks.

Ellison was a tinkerer, it turns out, like many of the readers of the TeleBlog, and rather surrealistically yesterday I read how he fell in love with the Osborne 1, perhaps the first portable computer for serious business use, or literary use. Oh, the incongruity of it all: a great American legend from the 1950s boning up on at least the basics of CP/M! To think of Ellison typing away on a computer, even a 1981 model that looked like a suitcase! I can barely imagine somebody so venerable at the keyboard of a Selectric.

Old literary debate

I myself began computing with a Kaypro II, an Osborne rival, so I can imagine the excitement Ellison must have felt at being able to slide words around on that tiny black-and-white screen. But were the Osborne and Ellison’s several other machines good for his career? Are they a major reason why his second novel, just parts of which were published, took decades to reach print?

Such issues are grist for an old literary debate about technology’s pros and cons for writers, and it’s of special interest from a TeleBlog perspective, since I haven’t exactly heard of many e-book-oriented writers creating manuscripts by pen or typewriter first, then feeding them into the maws of their word processors.

Details vs. the whole

Osborne 1In an engrossing feature story on Ellison published over the weekend, a look at the circumstances under which a pair of literary scholars have patched together his material for a fuller edition of the master’s fiction published as Juneteenth, Washington Post reporter Wil Haygood mentions an interesting theory.

The academics, Adam Bradley and John Callahan, believes that the gadgetry may actually have set back Ellison by encouraging him to fixate on the details of his work at the expense of the whole. Here are three versions of the same sentence, the first two without a computer and the second with one:

–1960: “Three days before the shooting a chartered planeload of Southern Negroes swooped down upon the District of Columbia and attempted to see the Senator.”

–1972: “Two days before the shooting a chartered planeload of Southern Negroes swooped down upon the District of Columbia and attempted to see the Senator.”

–1993: “Two days before the bewildering incident a chartered plane-load of those who at that time were politely identified as Southern ‘Negroes’ swooped down upon Washington’s National Airport and disembarked in a confusion of paper bags, suitcases, and picnic baskets.” This one came out a year before Ellison’s death.

Take your pick

So which version of the sentence would you vote for? I actually would have gone for the computer-expanded one, except that I’d have just put the words ‘Southern Negroes’ in quotes and have dispensed with “those who at the time were….” I prefer the telling imagery of the third version.

Could the skeptics be wrong about the effect of technology on Ellison? Might the Osborne and brethren helped him make his prose significantly richer, even if they stretched out the writing time? I can’t say, not having read all his drafts of the second novel. Still, it’s fun to speculate, isn’t it?

Another lesson

On a related matter, I see another lesson in the gestation period for the second novel. You cannot cast aside issues of quality and say the world is better because such-and-such writer produced X number of novels. Even without the Osborne to distract him, Ellison went about his craft slowly, and that’s something to ponder in the current debate over copyright terms. Shouldn’t “Progress of Science and useful Arts” be judged by quality, too, not merely quantity? If the final version of Ellison’s second novel can come even slightly close to The Invisible Man, then the wait will have been worth it.

While I continue to dislike the Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act and, even more, the talk of eternal copyright, I don’t think that 14-year copyright terms would be blissful, either, as a promoter of literature. Some of the best works need to marinate, and beyond that, an artist of Ellison’s stature has only one life from which to draw. Go ahead. Disagree, as I suspect most TeleBlog readers will.

And yet another thought, in another area

If nothing else, the Ellison case shows the need for word-processing standards that do not depend on the survival of one company. Who knows what the world would have lost without scholars’ ability to his old Osborne disks? Technically it wasn’t much of a challenge. But unlike computer people, literary archivists think in terms of decades and even centuries.

The same concept, of course, would apply to e-book formats, one reason we need comprehensive standards that can gracefully evolve.

 
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