H. Adler - The Wall

“What kind of journal will it be, Fräulein Knispel?”

“You’ll soon hear. Tell me, I recall, and someone said to me a couple of times, you write about all kinds of things, don’t you, Landau? Sociology, suffering, misery, and such. You’re at home with all of it, yes?”

“Yes, if you wish to put it that way.”

“Do you already have a book out?”

“No, not out — inside, inside the desk drawer.”

“That’s no good. You have to bring it out! It’s worthless inside the desk drawer.”

“That could be, Fräulein Knispel.”

“Well, then. You are sensible. And why isn’t it out? Too much time spent in the ivory tower? Too learned? Too lofty?”

“I’ve been unlucky, one might say. But I’ve come to terms with that.”

“Your writing needs to be snappy; I can help you with that. What with your talent! You need to grab hold of people, carry them along. That indefinable something — that’s what you need to be successful. Well, Landau, do you want to give it a try — trust me for once? I’ll give it my all, guaranteed.”

“I don’t think you’ll have much luck with it.”

“Let me worry about that. Bring me something and I’ll read it; you’ll have my unvarnished opinion. Maybe there’s nothing. But if there’s something to it, and I think there is, then I can do something with it. Isn’t that true, Buxi?”

“But of course, Resi. You can count on it, Herr Landau. Only that which is purely literary cannot be used, no artsy novels. But, hopefully, it’s not that kind of stuff, is it?”

“No, no,” I whispered, half in apology, half in embarrassment.

“Listen, Landau, I have some top-notch journalists who can rewrite your dense scholarly prose so that it flows like light and sweet wine. Then I’ll place it wherever you want.”

“Couldn’t I now at least learn a bit more about the journal, Fräulein Knispel?”

“You certainly haven’t written just a bunch of heavy stuff, have you?”

“No — essays, articles, reviews, and other short items.”

“Excellent. And could you write an article about a theme I assigned you or one of your own choice?”

“I would think so.”

“ Primissima! Then I can count on you!”

“That I don’t know, Fräulein Knispel. I need to know more about your journal.”

“Patience. I’m getting to that. As I already said, we need above all to have a staff that is experienced. In some ways, I have that already. But I need more. You need to let those who have something to say have an outlet. Do you know some people?”

“Unfortunately not. I stay out of things.”

“Oh, so you’re a cellar rat. Always rummaging about, yes? You need to come out into the fresh air sometime. Then you can crawl back like a badger into his den. Well, who do you know, then? Everyone belongs to some kind of circle.”

“I don’t have any circle. I write some reviews for journals. Of late, also some short articles on assignment — mere shoptalk, nothing important. Because of this, I haven’t earned much respect. Now and then someone asks me to write a professional opinion or sends me some work to copyedit. That’s about it.”

“What, copyediting? Well, then, a professional, almost my equal. You have my respect. That’s something. You must come across some pretty good names, no?”

“Names? Yes.”

“Then let me make a recommendation straightaway. If you come across something that would interest a publisher, then show it to me. We can then talk about your cut.”

“That I can’t do. The author, the journal, the publisher will have put their trust in me.”

“No, that’s not what I mean! Often, something is free for the taking. Then bring it to me! It won’t be your fault. Obviously you’ll get something if I make something off it. It makes perfect sense. But it needs to be popular, though also learned. Scholarly, yet understandable to the common reader. Topical, it can even have a political slant to it — it doesn’t matter whether it’s right or left.”

“I hardly ever come across anything like that.”

“Buxi, he’s hopeless. Much too serious, this Landau. But he could be a nice piece of finery to have attached to a journal. We indeed need something serious that is brutally earnest that can inspire readers simply because they can’t understand a syllable of it. You could pull that off, couldn’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

“But only short articles by such clever visionaries, a hundred and fifty to two hundred manuscript lines for each — that we could manage.”

“Would it also pay, Fräulein Knispel?”

“It’s a matter of honor! Something for something. At the start, I can only promise a little. Luminaries will, of course, be paid straightaway. Do you know any luminaries?”

“Certainly not.”

“Too bad. Later, everyone will certainly be paid, even well. But first the journal has to get off the ground.”

“When will that happen?”

“Soon. We want to have the first issue out in four to six weeks, five to eight thousand copies, sixteen pages of text, later more, four to eight pages of advertising. For that, we already have a fantastic salesman. Buxi will help us with that. Saubermann also promised support — advertising and also money.”

“So, then, the financial side of things is assured, Fräulein Knispel?”

“Just about, my dear sir. Not quite, but it’s almost there. I have been waiting for this for so long, for this idea has long been dear to me, and I want to start it off on sound footing. We can’t just bring out one issue, two issues, three or four, then fold up. That can’t happen. It needs to be a smash hit that is able to thrive.”

“How often will the journal appear?”

“Right now, once every two months. Later, every month.”

“And in which language?”

“Right now it will be bilingual, every article in English and German. When we’re able, then we’ll do four languages — French and Spanish, maybe Italian as well. Simultaneous publication — it’s enough to leave one speechless, don’t you think? After a year, we could be that far along. But, at the moment, I can’t promise anything for sure; it’s still just a wonderful plan.”

“And what will the journal cover? Only sociology, or other things as well? What is its target audience?”

“It’s like the inquisition, Landau! But let’s just take one thing at a time. The journal can include everything. We don’t even have to keep to sixteen pages. Scholarship, culture, politics at the highest level, literature, art, whatever there is. There can be special issues. It should be modern. Something for everyone. Maintaining the highest standards, but accessible to everyone and palatable to all. That way, it will be a success.”

“If I understand right, Fräulein Knispel, in many ways it’s a cat fitted out with fish fins.”

“What kind of joke is that supposed to be, Herr Landau?” asked the bookseller.

“Quite simple, Herr Buxinger. The journal seems impossible, a complete paradox.”

“Come on now, Landau, jokes are fine, but that’s going too far. It just makes you, forgive me, look so dumb. One needs to set a standard; otherwise you lose your standing and are sent packing. But people howl at standards and are not built for them, they can’t find the right kind of mouthpiece. That’s why one can’t sit on one’s high horse, for one doesn’t take anything away from the loftiest of philosophers by popularizing them. Quite the contrary. It’s only then that they gain a certain stature. Look, earlier Buxi alluded to literature, but what he said isn’t true. Even the best of novels can be read by the average person, because they are popular, which means realistic, and yet they still need to be considered artistic. Even a masterpiece can be picked up and really grip someone. It’s always been that way, with even the most sublime works, and never did a single leaf fall from the poet’s head. That’s the way it is everywhere. Why should it be any different with something scholarly? Any theme can be tastefully served up. You just have to cut it down to size.”