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¶Most anthologies. The paste begins to taste.
All publishers commit non-books, but some do it more than others. One of the most persistent is Bernard Geis, who operates as a kind of non-publisher, distributing his wares through Bennett Cerf's Random House, and setting up shop to promote non-books, including those of backers Art Linkletter (The Secret World of Kids) and Groucho Marx (Groucho and Me). Says Geis: "I want to do anything that can be done to get the audience back to books." Then he adds, less piously: "I don't care what kind of book it is."
Less splashy but longer established are Mel Evans and George deKay, contractors who dream up nonbook ideas, hire authors and editors, and sell the product to publishing houses. The merchandise consists mostly of such night-table cannonballs as Fateful Moments, an anthology of traumata from Joan of Arc to Helen Keller, and the Great Treasury of American Writing, warmed-over heart warmers compiled by Louis Untermeyer.
Vice President Kenneth Giniger of Prentice-Hall's Hawthorn Books found one of his more successful package series in a succession of picture books showing Bishop Fulton J. Sheen acting out the Mass, touring Rome, and so forth. "It's like doing a movie, and I'm the producer," says Giniger happily, and he is obviously his own best pressagent. He discourages authors and agents. The firm invents most of its subjects, then cuts its risk with businesslike efficiency: it sends out form letters asking prospective customers if they would like to inspect a new book for a 30-day, money-back trial. If enough patrons of literature bite. Giniger commissions a ghost (often British, for lower fee and better prose) to write the book. If not, the idea is killed, polite regrets are issued to the folks.
A partial list of recent non-books:
Zsa Zsa Gabor: My Story Written for Me by Gerold Frank (World; $3.95). From Hungary to satiety, via Conrad Hilton, George Sanders and Porfirio Rubirosa. If this sentence were not the book's last, it would be fair warning: "Who knows, in this life of ours, what is really true and what is enchanting make-believe?"
Ustinov's Diplomats (Geis; $1.50). Can be read while running a four-minute mile; funny big pictures, mildly funny little text in which Ustinov, in his better moments the most amusing beard since G.B.S., imitates U.N. types. Typical Geis touch: Cineman Kirk Douglas adds an introduction in which he reminds everyone that Ustinov appears with him in the forthcoming movie Spartacus.
The Conformists, by Jack Wohl (P. S. Books; $1). Almost no text, pictures or humor: the gimmick is that colored balls, squares and triangles say things to each other. Orange ball to orange lump: "Tell me, Harriet, did you ever think of wearing a girdle?"
The Secrets of Long Life, by Dr. George Gallup and Evan Hill (Geis; $2.95). Longevity statistics that a newspaper could summarize in half a column, padded to book length by some extraordinarily foolish anecdotes and a questionnaire in which the reader can test his chances of living long enough to see publishing get even worse.