ESSAY:This year the British publisher Faber & Faber celebrates its 80th birthday, and a history that has incorporated a long, distinguished relationship with the world of Irish letters
TS ELIOT HAD a unique position in 20th-century literature. He was able to shape literary modernism as arguably its leading poet, and as poetry editor of Faber & Faber. Operating for four decades in the genteel surrounds of 24 Russell Square, where editorial meetings would take the form of long lunches, Eliot cemented the iconic status of the two-f logo. Eliot’s reach, indeed, goes back even further – to Faber and Gwyer, which became Faber and Faber in 1929 when Geoffrey Faber bought out Lady Gwyer. No second Faber was ever involved, and, it is said, Walter de la Mare suggested the repetition “because you can’t have too much of a good thing”.
In January of this year, Faber made the short move to new offices at 74-77 Great Russell Street.
Eliot began Faber's enduring relationship with Irish writers, one that stretches from Joyce and Beckett to Heaney, Friel and McGahern and on to a new generation including Gerard Donovan, Nick Laird, Claire Keegan and Claire Kilroy. Eliot did not seek to draw from a well of "Irish writers", it simply happened that the greatest figures in modernist prose and drama were both from Ireland: James Joyce and Samuel Beckett. That said, Irish modernism was always a bit earthier than Eliot's austere, esoteric ideal. Though he wrote to Joyce that he would publish Ulysses, a fear of prosecution shared with Geoffrey Faber meant Allen Lane would be its first British publisher. The best Faber's first catalogue in 1930 could boast was Stuart Gilbert's schemata of Ulysses, advertised as "the only substitute for the masterpiece". It should be borne in mind that Ulysseswas widely banned at that stage, but, had Faber had the stomach for the fight it might well have beaten an obscenity prosecution. In 1932, after all, the District Court of New York found the book "a rather strong draught" but not "aphrodisiac". Later, Beckett said his novels were turned down because of their obscurity and also the danger of prosecution for obscenity.
Perhaps it was such meekness that led Joyce to dub the publisher "Feebler and Fumbler". Yet he did not lose faith, and Eliot stuck with Finnegans Wake,though Joyce's constant revisions had him close to despair by the time it was published, in 1939. Joyce even composed rhymes on the event: "Buy a book in brown paper /From Faber and Faber/ To see Annie Liffey trip, tumble and caper."
MAKING HANDSOMErestitution for early reticence became something of a habit at Faber – only two years ago, Faber acquired the rights to the Beckett estate. "Faber's ambitious plans for the future publishing of Samuel Beckett's prose and poetry, alongside his dramatic works, fittingly secure the future for the publication of Beckett's work," Beckett's publisher, John Calder, said at the time. His confidence is borne out by Faber's publication of Beckett's complete prose works, beginning this month.
Indeed, as Angus Cargill, editor for Sebastian Barry, Claire Kilroy, Gerard Donovan and Peter Murphy among others, affirms, the Irish list is now central to Faber’s self image. “We are very aware of the legacy going back to Beckett and Joyce . . . And there is a recognition among writers of Faber’s standing in Ireland, so they want to continue that legacy. We can pick up writers who are exciting and new but at the same time can develop our tradition.
"Many are now at the forefront," says Cargill. "Sebastian has emerged with two strong novels in three years – that has been exceptional. Elsewhere Deirdre Madden is shortlisted for the Orange Prize; Peter Murphy's debut [ John the Revelator]was spectacularly reviewed and Claire Kilroy's third [ All Names Have Been Changed] very much engages with Ireland and the Irish literary tradition."
Talking to Claire Kilroy and Faber chief executive Stephen Page just after the two have shared lunch in Dublin last week hammered home the strength of Faber’s fertile links in Ireland. “Stephen comes over every year to ask us are we happy,” says Kilroy. Some of her Irish writing contemporaries who are with other publishers see Faber’s engagement in her life and tell her she’s lucky. For his part, Page says any literary publisher would feel at home in Dublin.
“We feel a deep affinity and, because we have created success for ourselves and our writers, it is natural to come back to the well . . . In a way it can be a battle in England with the development of the mass market, but literature holds a place here. There is a sense of literature as an event for the culture here. There are moments, such as Seamus Heaney’s 70th birthday, where it’s hard to think of a parallel that would be felt so deeply in the UK.”
Page identifies the particularly strong crop of Irish writers in the 1950s and 1960s as giving a momentum to Faber’s Irish list that remains to this day: “With Brian Friel, John McGahern and Seamus Heaney we seemed to be publishing the best of Irish literature and that got its own momentum. You develop a sense of community in the list then, the writers have a relationship within the publisher and that in turn brings others in.” Page sees Eliot’s successor, Ulsterman Charles Monteith, as a vital figure. “He brought a strong Irish flavour into the list. He certainly matters in the sense we have of kinship with Irish writers.”
But Monteith's sense of kinship had its limit at a personal level. As Seamus Heaney recalls in Stepping Stones, he felt Faber to be an "unentrable empyrean". On their first meeting in London, Monteith called the Twelfth of July a "fine old folk festival", to which Heaney replied: "To some people". Such was the lofty height of Russell Square as seen from Ireland up to then that Patrick Kavanagh was chuffed just to get a letter from TS Eliot, even though it was not one of acceptance. But to Monteith's credit, and despite the inevitable tribal divide between him and the tradition Heaney represented, he did not view Faber as "unentrable". And Heaney's bumping into Philip Larkin on his way into No 24 is symbolic: many followed after him. For Gerald Dawe of TCD's English department, Faber after Heaney "became less a remote power broker and more locally involved . . . The wind of change was behind Heaney. The change was taking place in the literary scene from being frosty and suburban to being more rooted to region and place. And the 'empyrean' recognised that trend of regionalisation. Monteith and others realised that change – and maximised it. It has benefited them a thousand times over. It was very foresightful."
TS Eliot said that, with publishing poetry, “you are aiming to lose as little as possible”. The inheritance of that kind of thinking remains a ballast at Faber, says Stephen Page. “Poetry is the very, very long game. You commit, you publish, you stand by it, and as a result Paul Muldoon becomes Paul Muldoon; Seamus Heaney becomes Seamus Heaney. Having that sensibility in the middle of what we do brings direction to everything else. You can’t just hype something and get results.”
Claire Kilroy is living proof of this patient approach. “I wouldn’t have a broad British readership,” she says, “but there seems a pattern that Irish authors who press on do develop a UK audience – look at Anne Enright or Joseph O’Connor. At my stage in the game I need support: I’m not making a fortune for Faber but they sustain the endeavour for me to get to that big novel at a later stage. They are not in it for short-term profit and I never get instruction to make something more amenable to the market.”
“We play the long game more often than not,” says Page in summary, “with the aim of being here for another 80 years at least.”
As part of the Dublin Writers Festival and to celebrate Faber’s 80th anniversary, and his own 70th birthday, Seamus Heaney will read a personal selection of his poetry at the National Concert Hall, Dublin on June 2nd at 8pm. Details from 01-4170000 and www.nch.ie or www.dublinwritersfestival.com