When I reviewed Miss Linsey and Pa by Stella Gibbons earlier in the year, I said that it was one of my favourite reads of 2021 so far – but that I couldn’t recommend it to the British Library for republishing, because there are racist elements to it that couldn’t easily be excised. They weren’t the main gist of the novel, by any means, and some of the antisemitism could probably be neatly cut away – but there is one secondary character whose racism towards another secondary character is tangled up in the plot.
I mentioned in that review that I might try to write more about the ethics of reprinting racist and other discriminatory works from the past, and a couple of people said they’d be interested in that discussion – and quite a few people said they thought any novel from the past should be eligible to be reprinted, with caveats in an introduction if necessary.
I want to give my own two caveats at the beginning: firstly, I am a white man and thus certainly not the person to be talking about how racism and sexism affect individuals, and I won’t be trying to do that today. If this becomes mansplaining or whitesplaining, please shout me down. Secondly, I think we should all have an awareness that there are opinions we all unthinkingly hold today that will be considered appalling by future generations. We don’t know what those opinions are, and that’s kind of the point.
Books that have been turned down
This hasn’t been something I’ve had to think about until relatively recently – in my very privileged position of being able to recommend books for the British Library Women Writers series. I emphasise that I am recommending rather than deciding, and they can say (and have said) no to my suggestions. (A third caveat: I am, of course, speaking for myself in this post – not for the British Library.)
They’ve turned down books for several reasons. Some simply didn’t fit the criteria of the series – I really wanted to include an Ivy Compton-Burnett, but all her novels are set in some fanciful past, and so don’t comment on life for women of the decade they’re published. I tried to emphasise the ‘fictionalised’ half of ‘fictionalised autobiography” for Our Hearts Were Young and Gay by Corneila Otis Skinner and Emily Kimbrough, deep down knowing it was really just autobiography. One novel the editor at the British Library simply didn’t like, which is fair enough. Another novel was really promising throughout, but had a bad, confusing, and sudden ending – and we agreed that, sadly, this ruled it out. And a final novel couldn’t be used because of an aspect of it that, while not overt racism, would be uncomfortable to read. It’s by an author who has recently been republished by more than one reprint publisher – but, notably, they haven’t included this particular book of hers either.
That’s not a bad batting average, considering how many of my recommendations have been accepted and are coming out in the future – and, of course, that’s why the editor is there (and she’s wonderful). But it’s that last one that particularly ties into the question of ‘should we reprint questionable books’.
Argument 1: We shouldn’t erase the past
A lot of people come from the position that the past is the past, and we shouldn’t try to doctor it to make it palatable for modern eyes. And this is largely what happens when books are reprinted. I know that sometimes offensive words are changed (the reprint of O, The Brave Music takes out an n-word, for instance, without changing the overall meaning of the scene), but broadly the world of Bowdlerised editions is a thing of the past. I don’t know how long that will last – Bowdler and his ilk changed things to make them fit with the morals and sensitivities of his age, and I can envisage 2021 doing the same. But it hasn’t happened yet.
I am generally pro the idea of not editing the past – whether that is from prudery or from being woke (and I don’t use the term disparagingly). But sometimes that means not publishing at all.
Argument 2: The past can still hurt people
BUT not wanting to erase the past isn’t the same as insisting that it is glorified and sustained. We’ve seen that recently with statues. It seems a farcical argument to me that we shouldn’t remove statues because that is destroying history – as though the only way that we have ever learned about the past is by reading statues.
I am firmly against destroying existing books – burning books has never been a good look for any movement – but that’s not to say the content is innocuous. Again, I am keen not to Whitesplain, so I will just say this: racism in books makes me feel uncomfortable and unhappy, but it doesn’t chime with racism I have personally faced – which is, of course, none. I cannot speak for people who read (say) the n-word in a novel and have to re-live all the times they’ve had that word used at them. But it’s worth remembering that books from the past still have the power to cause pain to readers in the present.
Argument 3: Publishing is a commercial venture
Acknowledging this pain – if a book shouldn’t be extensively edited to fit modern views (and I think it shouldn’t) then what next?
Many argue that books should just come out as is, and there are certain authors who are treated just like that. Joseph Conrad has a novel with the n-word in the title and, as far as I know, it’s still republished with that title. It certainly was in the English faculty under that title when I studied there, though perhaps it’s just called Narcissus now. Anyway, I shan’t be reading any more Conrad because I find him deathly dull, but there is certainly an echelon of writers who are so canonical that publishers have to make decisions about how they present them. There are words, themes, and perspectives in Wuthering Heights, To Kill a Mockingbird, Othello, and any number of other classic texts that wouldn’t be published as new books now – but these authors and books are too renowned to ignore.
The same is not true of reprint publishing. I think Miss Linsey and Pa is largely brilliant, but the cultural world will not notice if it never comes back into print. And publishers will only reprint a book if they think it will sell, and won’t damage their reputation or open them up to legal battles. These are all different variables, of course. But if you say ‘We should bring back books as they are’, you are also saying ‘This publisher should take a commercial and reputational risk on this product’. And, honestly, why should they?
Conclusion: it’s a moral and practical decision…
It’s not a surprising conclusion, but I do think the commercial/practical element is surprisingly often left out of conversations on this topic. Whatever my opinion of reprinting a book is, the ultimate opinion that matters is people with the capital and sway to bring a book back into print. I personally believe we shouldn’t reprint books that will damage others (and I am not qualified, as a white man, to determine what those things are – listening is always key), and that we shouldn’t extensively edit books to make them fit our sensibilities (though I think removing the odd word is fine), but my opinion is pretty meaningless on its own because nobody is asking me to put my money and name on the line.
And, again, it’s always worth remembering – lest we feel the temptation to be self-righteous against past writers and readers – that there are plenty of novels coming out at the moment that will be considered anathema to a future generation.
This post has felt rather a ramble, but hopefully some of it makes sense! I would love to know your thoughts on the topic…
I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, and more or less agree with your stance. Reprints that come with proper introductions, afterwords, and possibly bibliographies for further reading are my preference, so that if there is sensitive content it can be discussed, especially if there’s been light editing. I’d also like to see content indicators on the back blurbs of books.
Reading old books is one of the more accessible ways to understand some very uncomfortable parts of our shared history and attitudes, but finding the right balance needs constant reassessment and readjustment.
Yes, always best to discuss in paratexts if possible, and interesting thought about blurbs. Your second para is particularly great – really well put.
I too find your stance well thought-out and acceptable. I also think Desperate Reader has a really valid point. A book of its time, complete with attitudes and prejudices that we today find unacceptable is an immersive way of discovering those prejudices, who held them, and possibly why. A thoughtful introduction placing the book in its context, together with a useful bibliography completes the job! I wonder which books published over the last decade will find themselves only republishable with caveats in the future?
Thanks Margaret! Yes, I agree with the immersion – though certainly easier for me, as a white man, to consider taking that immersive dive. Of course there are many people for whom that journey is far from pain-free.
I read your thoughtful post with great interest as I thoroughly enjoy reading older novels but feel very uncomfortable when I read prose that reflects opinions and attitudes that were prevalent at the time.
I agree with Margaret21 that a preface that mentions this and gives context would be useful.
Thanks Julia. I also find it uncomfortable when they try and be progressive and fail – like ‘You won’t believe he is [positive attribute], even though he is [race]’ type of thing
I agree wholeheartedly with the comments made above and would only add that older books can also work as a reminder to us that attitudes have changed and are continuing to do so.
Yes – and for some of us that reminder is easy to read, and for some it definitely isn’t
That, for me, is the nub of the matter. Thank you!
I find that I (now in my 60s) have very different reactions now to books I read in my 20s and 30s. Not just to unconsidered racism and sexism, but to the general ‘superiority’ assumed as normal – that superiority being quite different from different authors, though! I’m thinking of things such as land owners and workers, town dwellers and country people, and so on…
You put this far better than I ever could. I agree 100%, and as a white cis woman, I’ve really never had to deal with racism against me (though I’m much more aware of it now that I have non-white family members). Racism and anti-semitism make me really uncomfortable and sometimes it makes me want to throw a book against the wall — sometimes it’s just an offhand comment but I think WTF? I get that some books are products of their time, and I don’t want to throw out the baby with the bathwater, but it really takes away from my enjoyment of an otherwise excellent book (and I’m absolutely not saying that some books are so pervasive that I wouldn’t mind if they were never reprinted).
It’s a really tough balancing act for publishers and I absolutely see that there’s no definitive answer. You could definitely cut the odd word here or there without taking away from the gist of most books. I would also appreciate publisher’s forewards or content warnings. And if a publisher decides to bypass a book entirely, I don’t see a problem. Publishing is a business they have every right to pass on a title if it’s just not worth the trouble.
I am quite intrigued to know what is cut out – I haven’t read any of the Women Writers reprints in their new editions, since I’ve read them several times in other editions, so it is intriguing. And yes, publishing is first and foremost a business!
Kate from Handheld Press speaking … We encounter this every time we consider a book for our Classics. We have turned down titles because we can’t justify the offence they would cause if we brought them out again, even with an Introduction and notes. Some offensive language, plot and characterisation (the most difficult to deal with) cannot be explained away. But some can, and we work darn hard in those cases to explain why X is offensive, and why the book is important, valuable, entertaining even, with those elements still present. However, a lot of readers don’t read the Introductions. We have to ensure that even the casual reader leafing through the book at random is not going to be mortally offended and hold a grudge against us for ever. We put our good name and our moral judgement on the line every time a reader reads one of our editions, and we have to stand by our decisions. We republished Rose Macaulay’s Potterism, which has the most hair-raising middle-class 1920s anti-Semitism I’ve yet read, because we could explain easily and clearly what RM was doing with that authorial choice. (Satire.) It all requires a lot of thought, and every decision is a teachable moment. We are lucky in that only two of us make the decisions to publish and I am in charge of marketing, so I carry that responsibility. I would not want to be marketing a book that someone else, higher up, had decided was a good commercial idea, that I violently disagreed with, but could do nothing about because that was my job.
I try really hard not to judge older books out of their time, but sometimes in my reviews I will comment that there are, for example, some racist attitudes, just to warn readers, and occasionally, if those attitudes are really bad, I express myself more strongly. However, as to not reprinting them or changing them, I think maybe we have to judge their intent. I assume we are talking about racism rather than sexism, for one thing, because no one seems to consider removing sexist remarks, of which there are thousands, in older books.
For example, if a character utters a racist epithet, that’s one thing, but if racism takes a stronger part in the plot or ideas of the characters and not satirically, that’s another thing altogether. I may not think it was a good idea to reprint the second. I once found it impossible to finish a novel because the main character was so antisemitic, even though it was satirical), but that’s another issue entirely and I would not suppress it.
In general, though, I prefer the idea of warning the readers in the introduction as opposed to changing the text. As to the comment by Kate of Handheld Press that people don’t read the introductions, maybe we need to make up a symbol to put on the cover (warning: incidental offensive material).
That’s a really good point, about sexism. Currently (at least) you’re absolutely right – people might say the opinion is regrettable, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it as a reason not to reprint. There may be examples others can think of.
Very interesting discussions, I agree with you, as long as libraries hold copies of all books published so they can be consulted, and they are not suppressed entirely, it’s OK not to republish books that go too far. I suppose a solution to the people not reading introductions thing would be to add a footnote where the offensive bit is, to say please see introduction (but would that work with e-readers?). I appreciated the way O, the Brave Music was handled, and also of course the authorial voice was saying the racism there was not acceptable, which is quite different from some other books.
Print it as it was… with no explanations, notes, etc.
The woke, coddling culture of the literary world is maddening.
What a thoughtless and unkind comment
One important point is the age of a prospective reader. A child or a young teen should not be subjected to racism/anti-Semitism in a book without being provided plenty of context and guidance. For adults, perhaps an introduction/afterward would suffice. There are so many books in which racism/anti-Semitism pops up almost gratuitously. Reading such passages is like a little stab, a little reminder that I (a woman of color) am not the intended reader. Once such a passage appears in a book, I’m on my guard and feel suspicious. Was that the writer talking? Or just that character? Is that going to happen again? It separates me from the work in an unpleasant way.
The library system I work for is against censorship but there has been a few times when a children’s book was moved to the young adult collection after a complaint. From a personal perspective, recently I flipped through a library copy of Orwell’s ‘Down and Out in Paris and London (1933) and read a line that mentioned his resorting to rape at times when consensual sex wasn’t in the cards, so to speak. What a creep! But as a woman in 2021 my first thought was how that sort of admission in print today would land him with a prison sentence, not that the book should be removed from the collection.
This topic is a tricky one to navigate, Simon, because I would love to read Stella Gibbons’ book but won’t be waving a fan flag for Orwell anytime soon. At the end of the day the most important thing to me is to retain the option of choice. Great discussion!
I’m personally opposed to any censorship but it may be preferable to have a censored version than none at all. I just wish that it was a law that publishers should state on the cover when it’s an expurgated version.
I agree with this. In my example of the children’s books that use the N word, edit it out, say you’ve done so, and then have a note giving context and explanation. It important to know that those authors were racist and that generations of parents read those aloud without blenching. Otherwise, it’s a form of whitewashing.
I think that was the case with some reprints of the Dr. Doolittle books. There was some racist language that was cut out; after careful research, it was decided by the publishers that the author would not have wanted his books to be offensive or hurtful to any children. There’s also an explanatory note at the beginning. I think that’s a good way to handle it by acknowledging that what was acceptable language in the past isn’t acceptable any more.
Yes, something people don’t consider in the ‘leave it as it is’ brigade as that the author might well be horrified, if they were alive today
I read Gerald and Elizabeth by D.E. Stevenson quite recently, a first edition, and I was really enjoying it until almost at the end of the book (page 188) she wrote a couple of horribly ant-semitic paragraphs. I was shocked and it didn’t half put me off her, I believe that later editions have missed that part out. I suspect that it is the fact that she was a Scottish author that made it worse for me as it seems so un-Scottish and I was ashamed of her. My parents and grandparents would have been ashamed too so it wasn’t a generational thing.
I had the same experience with an Angela Thirkell recently. There was some racism regardingt some non-white GIs stationed in England that was just really shocking to me, especially because it was clearly meant to be funny. It was definitely not funny and it really tainted an otherwise enjoyable book for me.
Yikes, such a shame
My recent experience with the N word in books has been children’s books: The Voyages of Doctor Doolittle (1922) and the Swallows and Amazons book The Big Six (1940). I was reading the Doctor Doolittle book aloud to my young son, was shocked to see the word, and edited it out as I read. The S&A book was an audio book, so I didn’t have a chance to skip it. So I paused the book and we had a discussion about what the word is, the context, and why it is NEVER okay for a white person to use it.
Yes, it’s important to understand that it wasn’t that long ago that authors considered the N word appropriate even in children’s books. But honestly, I don’t think kids need to be exposed to racial slurs in that context.
On the other hand, we’ve listened to several middle grade books that use the N word purposely because they are telling the history of racism via fiction. Gone Crazy on Alabama and Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry come to mind.
I understand that it’s a thorny issue. I read a lot of early 20th century novels and there is so much racism and anti-Semitic language (and entire characters created just to mock non-WASP people) that would be difficult to excise without making Swiss cheese of the plot. In that case, I do think an intro pointing it out would be helpful, so that it doesn’t go unnoticed or without critique. But outright slurs should be removed unless they serve to emphasize and illustrate the negative impact of racism/sexism.
I agree with Desperate reader that “Reading old books is one of the more accessible ways to understand some very uncomfortable parts of our shared history.” I also agree with Julia that a preface which gives context is essential in a reprint. It is helpful to readers to have some kind of cue that it’s a book that may hurt feelings or worse.
But it isn’t just racism that we need to think about. In the last twelve months I have read two contemporary European translations that are crude, offensive and hurtful about physical disability. (Both were first published in 2017.) One was explicitly shaming people with disability and I chose not to continue reading it, and the other, set in the past and expressing attitudes held then, presents the character as eventually cured, and so therefore the author feels no need to address the shaming. In a book that was reflecting on and nostalgic about the past, I had to ask myself, what then was the point of raising the issue? Many readers would be expecting the author to have his now adult character realise that there was no cause for shame, but that doesn’t happen.
This is a very interesting and important discussion! I agree with all the points above that racism in early 20th century fiction is often jarring and totally uncalled for– I’m reminded of some of Angela Thirkell’s books, which veer off from your standard light social comedy to include disgusting racist dialogue and slurs for absolutely no reason. Then there’s the less overt racism, often tied up with colonialism– the eulogising over the British Empire, the mindset of “the native inhabitants of this country aren’t capable of governing themselves, therefore it is our noble duty to do it for them”. While this is also extremely uncomfortable to read, I feel that it is important for white, Western readers to confront their colonial past and to understand the sort of mentality that enabled the British Empire to be sustained.
Related to Lisa’s point about physical disability, many books written during the early 20th century do contain deeply hurtful and (to our modern eyes) problematic portrayals of mental illness and disability. Sometimes it’s merely a question of language, as nearly all the words used in that era to express that someone was disabled are now rightly considered appalling and unusable in that context. Sometimes it’s the sheer invisibility of disabled individuals– the way in which (in line with history) they are invariably consigned to an asylum or a nursing home and then simply forgotten about and never mentioned. And sometimes the author is clearly trying to be progressive and compassionate, but still portrays disability in a way that modern readers find profoundly uncomfortable.
I’m reminded of the portrayal of Ruan’s little brother in ‘O the Brave Music’; it is sensitive and compassionate and we are left in no doubt as to Ruan’s deep love for him, but equally I did find it somewhat convenient that he died as an infant (it has quite patronising undertones of “too good for this poor world”) and therefore Smith didn’t have to tackle the difficult question of what life would have been like for a developmentally delayed and intellectually disabled individual in the late Victorian/Edwardian eras.
As an autistic person who works with disabled children, I do sometimes find such portrayals difficult to stomach– it is quite sobering to think of how often people like us were dehumanised and written out of history. That being said, one of the absolute best representations of autism I have ever read (easily outranking most modern books) is Margaret Kennedy’s ‘The Ladies of Lyndon’ (published in 1923). James, the protagonist’s brother-in-law, would clearly be diagnosed as autistic today; he is treated in an extremely condescending manner by his family, who are convinced they know what is best for him, but ultimately leads a happy, successful and brilliantly unconventional life, and emerges as one of the only genuine and honest characters in a dishonest and artificial society. Which goes to show that, even in those days, some authors did have a surprising amount of insight and understanding for those different from themselves!
Very thoughtful post, Simon, and so many sensible comments above. As has been said, this is presumably a discussion about racism, and although I am white, I am Scottish so I have encountered mild examples of racism – nothing like the really nasty stuff. However, as a female I often find myself reading older books riddled with misogyny, and unless it’s really violent I can deal with it in context and I think it needs to be discussed. Some of the BL books might be considered as having views of women we don’t agree with nowadays, but they reflect the times. I’m not in favour of editing things out if they’re going to be republished and for example find it hard to stomach the sanitised modern Enid Blytons. In my time, children ran away because they’d e.g. been slapped by an aunt, not just shouted at – a much more convincing reason.
As for Conrad, I think Narcissus floats about in many variant titles at the moment…
But I do take your point about the financial considerations – no publisher is issuing a book out of the goodness of their hearts, so if they think a book will be offensive, the don’t reissue it. I think I come down to the option of republishing and forewords/commentary/notes putting the problem sections in context – that way, we as readers can learn and see how things have changed and hopefully keep them changing for the better!
The only thing that would give me pause is if it were a book for young children. Though I don’t think they imbibe those messages in quite the same way as adults. I remember reading “ The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnett as a young child and I enjoyed the story. It’s a beloved childhood classic but full of racist stereotypes and prejudice against Indians. Now as an adult and as someone of Indian origin, I find some of the lines to be very offensive. I didn’t pick on it as a child but who knows if some of the messages were internalized!
As for adult books, I think it’s best to leave things alone for the most part so people have an idea of how awful things were at a particular time in history and you never know- it might shock some people out of their complacency.
The only thing that would give me pause is if it were a book for young children. Though I don’t think they imbibe those messages in quite the same way as adults. I remember reading “ The Secret Garden” by Frances Hodgson Burnett as a young child and I enjoyed the story. It’s a beloved childhood classic but full of racist stereotypes and prejudice against Indians. Now as an adult and as someone of Indian origin, I find some of the lines to be very offensive. I didn’t pick on it as a child but who knows if some of the messages were internalized!
As for adult books, I think it’s best to leave things alone for the most part so people have an idea of how awful things were at a particular time in history and you never know- it might shock some people out of their complacency.
This is Literary Gitane. Sorry for the duplicate posts. I don’t know why my comment showed up as anonymous and when I tried again my first name instead of my website. Ah well!
That’s a really helpful distinction, yes
Perfect sense… Thanks. I think we need to look at each book and judge/decide on their own merit as to if they should be re-released or continued to be published, or not. The Seuss books? No need to continue those books. Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer… um… maybe they should continue to be released.
A great post (and comments) about an important issue. I really like the fact that you’ve brought out two factors that usually don’t get much attention: the financial/reputational aspects of publishing and that our own attitudes, which seem fine to us now, may very well be regarded with horror and contempt by future generations.
I generally agree that it’s acceptable to correct the occasional racial/ethnic/gender slur but that any additional editing is very problematical. As many of the comments point out, however, the case becomes more difficult with children’s books. In the U.S., at least in the past (I’m probably dating myself here), the battle has frequently centered on Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn.” It’s frequently assigned to high school kids (ages 14-18) and is replete with the hurtful racist stereotypes of the mid-19th century. I re-read it about a decade ago and was quite uncomfortable with some of the language, so I can only imagine how a non-white teenager would feel. Yet, it truly deserves its place in the classics and Jim, the African American fleeing bondage, is the most marvelous character there is, in many ways the moral center of the book. There is simply no way to read this book, however, and avoid the language. What’s a teacher to do?
Faulkner is another writer whose work also presents these issues, which may be one reason he doesn’t appear to be as widely read these days. His work contains hurtful, harmful and disturbing racial slurs & images; also, there’s the fact that, for his all insight and moral vision, Faulkner couldn’t quite free himself of the cultural constraints of being a white, mid-century southern male. Painful reading, to be sure but literature would be much poorer without his work.
Thanks for the post; it’s helped me clarify my thinking on this issue.
When I read The Egg and I by Betty Macdonald, the casual racism rankled. It was otherwise a delightful book. I remember someone commenting to me that that was just what people were like in the 1950s and I shouldn’t hold it against her … but racism is racism! I don’t have anything much to add to your excellent points and the many fine comments above. I’ll just mention that a copy of God Is Not a White Man by Chine McDonald is on its way to me and I’m really interested to see what she has to say about how the Church has normalized a patriarchal and white-centric theology — I haven’t really delved into any anti-racist books yet, and I’m looking forward to getting her perspective.
Oh yes, the way she writes about Native Americans is pretty awful – and they became such a thing in the film spin-offs! I do agree that racism is racism, but I also think (to go back to that point) there are so many things we believe now that will be considered horrendous in the future. So I think there is definitely a question about whether or not we still read these books, but I’m not sure about holding up the past to the present’s morals. But it is so tricky.
I’ve heard great things about God is Not a White Man – will explore.
“I personally believe we shouldn’t reprint books that will damage others (and I am not qualified, as a white man, to determine what those things are – listening is always key)…”
And yet, despite being a man, you seem to be in some position to be making suggestions for a series of books by women (“women writers” is not grammatically correct, and we don’t ever say “man writers!”). Why is this not a job being done by a woman? Is the editor also a man?
If some of what you say were actually true, like that publishers won’t republish things that are offensive because it might damage their reputation, then there would be so many classic works of fiction that wouldn’t be reprinted year over year. So many of them contain sexist, racist, etc. content or words, and yet we still see them considered classics and read by many. Because they are still seen as having value to readers of today.
If a work has some value, in that it tells a compelling or interesting story, or it shines a light on some aspect of the past that is worth learning from, it seems like is it actually worthwhile to republish these works. Not publishing sexist or racist words, whether the books are condoning these things or not, isn’t going to end actual sexism or racism. That requires actual action, rather than erasing or ignoring the past, or throwing away books from another time. Otherwise, you’re just virtue signalling and not effecting actual change.
A very thought-provoking post, Simon, and it’s been interesting to see all the various responses your piece has generated. I listened your Tea or Books podcast discussion with Rachel this week, and a couple of points struck me as a result.
Firstly, I think you’re right to raise the point that however much we try to contextualise offensive views / content in these books, via informative afterwords / introductions, certain aspects may still cause hurt or distress to some readers – and that may be enough to mean that republication is not a good idea (effectively your argument 2 above). I also agree that it’s difficult for us as relatively privileged members of the white middle class to make that call in certain instances. For example, I would be very interested to know what someone like Bernardine Evaristo thinks of these issues / dilemmas in relation to the republication of Black British writers from the past – it’s almost certainly something she and the publishing team had to consider as part of the Black Britain: Writing Back series recently issued by Penguin.
Secondly, while racism is often the issue that attracts most scrutiny in these debates, I’m not sure I agree with Rachel when she says that offensive attitudes towards women (e.g. stereotypical depictions of their roles as largely ‘domestic’) are largely ignored. These points are often raised quite prominently in the introductions / afterwords to republished books, and your own afterwords to the BLWW titles are great examples of this. Naturally, that doesn’t negate the problem of intros and afterwords being ‘skipped’ by many readers, but it’s an important aspect of the contextualisation if the book is to be republished.
Thanks for your comment! Yes, I wasn’t sure I agreed with Rachel on that point, but did not feel equipped to answer it – I think there are certainly some publishers and many readers who DO care about misogyny in their books.