J. D. Salinger_ A Life - Kenneth Slawenski [180]
For Esmé—with Love and Squalor was released in paperback at the end of 1959, but Hamilton did not send a copy to Salinger. By April 1960, the author had not yet seen the new rendition of his book and was beginning to hear curious rumors about its presentation. He and Claire were making plans to spend Easter at Park Avenue, where Salinger’s mother was anxious to fawn over her new grandson. Salinger happily made arrangements with his friend Robert Machell, Hamilton’s American representative, to meet together in New York during his trip. He had only one request: that he finally see the British paperback version of For Esmé—with Love and Squalor. Although the work was his own, Salinger made the request almost apologetically and promised that he would not “save” the copy.7 Such was his faith in his British business partners.
Salinger never met with Machell that Easter. By then he had obtained a copy of the paperback himself. When he saw it, he was stunned. The collection had been packaged to imitate the cheapest of dime novels. Gazing out from the book’s cover, which was printed in garish tones of yellow, was an alluring woman many years older than the character of Esmé. In case her come-hither stare was not enticement enough, the publishers heralded the tawdry nature of the book’s contents in bold letters strung over her head, calling the book “a painful and pitiable gallery of men, women, adolescents and children.” Salinger was crushed. He had argued with Hamilton over the dignity of the collection’s title in 1953 and had allowed the title only to preserve their personal friendship. Now combined with the sleazy illustration and the provocative marquee, it appeared to Salinger that Hamilton had planned on cheapening Nine Stories from the very beginning, in order to make a profit.
In his defense, Hamilton pleaded innocence. He claimed that he had submitted the collection to Penguin Books, which had tastefully handled the British paperback edition of The Catcher in the Rye, but it had refused it. Hamilton had instead sold the rights to Harborough Publishing and its paperback imprint, Ace Books. When Ace released Salinger’s collection with what Hamilton later called “a jacket of singular vulgarity,” Hamilton claimed to have been appalled but powerless to alter events.8 In truth, though Salinger was ignorant of the nature of Ace’s product when he hastily signed the contract, Hamilton certainly was not. Further incriminating the editor was the naked reality that his transaction with Ace Books was by far the most profitable he had ever reaped from a Salinger work to date.
Once again Salinger felt betrayed by an editor whom he held in the highest regard as both a colleague and a friend. His hurt and fury with Jamie Hamilton were unrestrained. Hamilton begged him for understanding and then forgiveness. He had his wife, Yvonne, and Roger Machell both appeal to Salinger on his behalf and even offered to come to America to discuss the issue if Salinger would meet with him. Salinger refused them all. And although Hamish Hamilton held first rejection rights to Salinger’s next hardcover in England, Salinger told Hamilton that he would prefer to go unpublished in Britain rather than allow Hamilton to abuse another of his works. That was the last exchange between the two men, who had been close friends for nearly a decade. Salinger never spoke a word to Jamie Hamilton again.
For all of his difficulties with publishers and his complaints about their methods, Salinger compulsively clung to a series of editors for support throughout his career, often to the point of blurring personal and professional relationships. This meant that a business decision that he considered disadvantageous was also translated into a personal betrayal. It was a situation