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Essay Type: publishing
Essay Date: 2013
In November of 2013, the Asian Canadian Writers Workshop gave publisher Brian Lam and his Arsenal Pulp Press its annual Community Builder’s Award at the concluding gala for the first annual LiterASIAN Festival in Vancouver. Here are Lam's remarks at the event:
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On behalf of Arsenal Pulp Press, I want to say how honored we are to receive this award from the Asian Canadian Writers Workshop, a group that we’ve long considered our friends and allies. As book publishers, writers are at the heart of what we do, so it is humbling and inspiring to be recognized not only for doing something that is our daily job, but something that we love doing, which is bringing our writers’ works to life.
I started out in book publishing almost thirty years ago now, in 1984 as a student studying creative writing at the University of Victoria. My parents were first-generation Canadian; my father served in the Canadian army and was stationed in Australia during World War II, and was one day away from being sent to the frontlines when the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, yet when he returned home to Canada he and my mother, like other Chinese Canadians, were still not allowed to vote for another few years, until 1947. My parents experienced the kind of systemic and personal prejudice that so many of their generation experienced, and as a result they wanted their children to have the kind of life that was denied to them.
Growing up in the 1960s, I was raised to speak English and encouraged to read as much as possible so that I might easily earn a job in the real world, but I realize now that this sent me on a path toward writing and literature; my most treasured Christmas gift was a typewriter that I received at the age of eight. Like many people in this room, I started out my academic life wanting to become a writer, and I was fortunate to study with the likes of writers Jack Hodgins and Leon Rooke, among others. But in 1984, as part of UVic’s co-op program, I got a summer internship as a publishing assistant at what was then known simply as Pulp Press.
I packed book orders, took authors to media interviews, read manuscripts, and reorganized Pulp’s first filing system. I also got to hang around with Pulp’s early stalwarts, such as poet Jon Furberg, novelist Tom Osborne, his brother and my mentor Stephen Osborne, now the publisher of Geist Magazine, and the late D.M. Fraser, one of Canada’s greatest unsung writers and Pulp’s editor, who would compose beautifully written rejection letters that were usually more two or more pages long, typed on long yellow scrolls.
When that summer was over and I returned to Victoria, I already knew that the world of book publishing was where I belonged.
It’s a cliché to say, but I am nostalgic for those simpler days, when there were more than 25 independent bookstores in Vancouver alone, including nine locations of Duthie Books, and four locations of Blackberry Books; there was also the Granville Book Company on the Granville Strip, William McKinley’s, which specialized in architectural books, Proprioception, which was devoted to serious art theory books, and Chief’s Mask, an indigenous-owned business that sold books about BC’s First Nations.
Whenever one of our new books was published, I would enjoy jumping in my car and delivering stock around the city to booksellers who were grateful and enthusiastic. There was no Internet then, of course, but more importantly there were no multinational online booksellers like Amazon to compete with, storefront leases were relatively cheap, and ebooks were non-existent.
Today, the book industry has been completely transformed by the digital revolution and the kind of multinational bookselling and publishing that would have one believe that bigger is better: Coles merged with WH Smith, which became Chapters, which then bought out Indigo to control what is now 60 to 70% of all books sold in Canada; as well, McClelland and Stewart, the largest and most venerated Canadian-owned publisher in the country, was purchased by Random House, which then merged with Penguin to become one of the world’s most dominant publishers.
But I would argue that in order to survive in what has become a cutthroat industry, “smaller” is better: and by smaller, I mean nimble enough to respond quickly and efficiently to the vagaries of the industry, and creative enough to find new revenue streams and new opportunities for audience development, all of which benefit the writers we publish. We’ve always prided ourselves on the close-knit relationship we develop with our writers, from editorial through production through to the marketing and promotion of their published books, and we are eternally grateful for their trust and support.
One of those writers whom we published not long after I started at Arsenal was Jim Wong-Chu. I think it was 1986, soon after Expo had started, when J. Michael Yates, a renowned BC poet who himself had started his own publishing company now known as Sono Nis Press, told us about a great local Chinese Canadian poet he knew. When Stephen Osborne and I read Jim’s manuscript, which was comprised of eloquent, succinct, emotionally riveting poems about the Chinese Canadian experience, we knew right away that we wanted to publish it, especially when we discovered that it would be the first Asian Canadian poetry book ever published.
On the day that Chinatown Ghosts was back from the printers, Michael and Jim came into the office for a celebratory drink, and I still remember how red-faced Jim got after downing a glass of scotch. Soon after, Chinatown Ghosts became an instant classic, and led to us publishing Swallowing Clouds, an anthology of Chinese Canadian poetry edited by Jim and by Andy Quan, in 1999. The book is 14 years old now, and in addition to including poems by such established writers at the time as Evelyn Lau, Fred Wah and Paul Yee, it included many who were being published in book form for the first time. Today, it is astonishing to realize how many of those new young writers have gone on to publish their own books of poetry and fiction, such as Lydia Kwa, Larissa Lai, Fiona Tinwei Lam, Lydia Kwa and Rita Wong.
Since then we’ve published other books by Asian Canadian writers as part of our mandate to publish literature that expands our ideas about ourselves and the world we live in, and to counter the traditional master narrative of our country with points of view that are decidedly outside of the mainstream. We are particularly proud of publishing a new edition of Larissa Lai’s beautiful novel When Fox is a Thousand, Terry Watada’s sweeping novel: Kuroshio: The Blood of Foxes about the Japanese coming to North America, artist Gu Xiong’s The Yellow Pear about his experience as a new immigrant from mainland China, and David Wong’s extraordinary and groundbreaking graphic novel Escape to Gold Mountain. But our task of connecting books with readers around the world pales in comparison to the solitary creative work done by our writers, who, despite the relatively paltry compensation, are passionate in their dedication to tell the stories they want and need to tell. With this in mind, I want to thank Jim Wong-Chu, David Wong, Larissa Lai, Terry Watada, Hiromi Goto, Gu Xiong, Andy Quan, Tamai Kobayashi, Ashok Mathur, Wayde Compton, David Chariandy and so many others for entrusting us with their books and their stories.
I also want to thank the team at Arsenal with whom I share this award – Robert, Susan, Gerilee, and Cynara; they are a creative and hard-working lot, and I, as well as our writers, appreciate them for their professionalism and dedication, whether it is editing manuscripts, designing book covers, putting together author tours, or getting books onto store shelves. Finally, I wish to thank the Asian Canadian Writers Workshop not only for this award, but for the good work that they do to promote and assist writers across the country, and for giving new generations of writers the confidence and the skill to tell their own stories for generations to come.
Thad McIlroy, a publishing consultant who was Pulp’s sales director back in the 1970s, once said, “It’s hard to get publishing out of your blood,” and I agree. It is a terrifying, backbreaking business, but one that I personally can’t imagine ever leaving. So on behalf of Arsenal Pulp Press, I thank you all for this wonderful vote of confidence and recognition.
[2013]
-------------------
On behalf of Arsenal Pulp Press, I want to say how honored we are to receive this award from the Asian Canadian Writers Workshop, a group that we’ve long considered our friends and allies. As book publishers, writers are at the heart of what we do, so it is humbling and inspiring to be recognized not only for doing something that is our daily job, but something that we love doing, which is bringing our writers’ works to life.
I started out in book publishing almost thirty years ago now, in 1984 as a student studying creative writing at the University of Victoria. My parents were first-generation Canadian; my father served in the Canadian army and was stationed in Australia during World War II, and was one day away from being sent to the frontlines when the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, yet when he returned home to Canada he and my mother, like other Chinese Canadians, were still not allowed to vote for another few years, until 1947. My parents experienced the kind of systemic and personal prejudice that so many of their generation experienced, and as a result they wanted their children to have the kind of life that was denied to them.
Growing up in the 1960s, I was raised to speak English and encouraged to read as much as possible so that I might easily earn a job in the real world, but I realize now that this sent me on a path toward writing and literature; my most treasured Christmas gift was a typewriter that I received at the age of eight. Like many people in this room, I started out my academic life wanting to become a writer, and I was fortunate to study with the likes of writers Jack Hodgins and Leon Rooke, among others. But in 1984, as part of UVic’s co-op program, I got a summer internship as a publishing assistant at what was then known simply as Pulp Press.
I packed book orders, took authors to media interviews, read manuscripts, and reorganized Pulp’s first filing system. I also got to hang around with Pulp’s early stalwarts, such as poet Jon Furberg, novelist Tom Osborne, his brother and my mentor Stephen Osborne, now the publisher of Geist Magazine, and the late D.M. Fraser, one of Canada’s greatest unsung writers and Pulp’s editor, who would compose beautifully written rejection letters that were usually more two or more pages long, typed on long yellow scrolls.
When that summer was over and I returned to Victoria, I already knew that the world of book publishing was where I belonged.
It’s a cliché to say, but I am nostalgic for those simpler days, when there were more than 25 independent bookstores in Vancouver alone, including nine locations of Duthie Books, and four locations of Blackberry Books; there was also the Granville Book Company on the Granville Strip, William McKinley’s, which specialized in architectural books, Proprioception, which was devoted to serious art theory books, and Chief’s Mask, an indigenous-owned business that sold books about BC’s First Nations.
Whenever one of our new books was published, I would enjoy jumping in my car and delivering stock around the city to booksellers who were grateful and enthusiastic. There was no Internet then, of course, but more importantly there were no multinational online booksellers like Amazon to compete with, storefront leases were relatively cheap, and ebooks were non-existent.
Today, the book industry has been completely transformed by the digital revolution and the kind of multinational bookselling and publishing that would have one believe that bigger is better: Coles merged with WH Smith, which became Chapters, which then bought out Indigo to control what is now 60 to 70% of all books sold in Canada; as well, McClelland and Stewart, the largest and most venerated Canadian-owned publisher in the country, was purchased by Random House, which then merged with Penguin to become one of the world’s most dominant publishers.
But I would argue that in order to survive in what has become a cutthroat industry, “smaller” is better: and by smaller, I mean nimble enough to respond quickly and efficiently to the vagaries of the industry, and creative enough to find new revenue streams and new opportunities for audience development, all of which benefit the writers we publish. We’ve always prided ourselves on the close-knit relationship we develop with our writers, from editorial through production through to the marketing and promotion of their published books, and we are eternally grateful for their trust and support.
One of those writers whom we published not long after I started at Arsenal was Jim Wong-Chu. I think it was 1986, soon after Expo had started, when J. Michael Yates, a renowned BC poet who himself had started his own publishing company now known as Sono Nis Press, told us about a great local Chinese Canadian poet he knew. When Stephen Osborne and I read Jim’s manuscript, which was comprised of eloquent, succinct, emotionally riveting poems about the Chinese Canadian experience, we knew right away that we wanted to publish it, especially when we discovered that it would be the first Asian Canadian poetry book ever published.
On the day that Chinatown Ghosts was back from the printers, Michael and Jim came into the office for a celebratory drink, and I still remember how red-faced Jim got after downing a glass of scotch. Soon after, Chinatown Ghosts became an instant classic, and led to us publishing Swallowing Clouds, an anthology of Chinese Canadian poetry edited by Jim and by Andy Quan, in 1999. The book is 14 years old now, and in addition to including poems by such established writers at the time as Evelyn Lau, Fred Wah and Paul Yee, it included many who were being published in book form for the first time. Today, it is astonishing to realize how many of those new young writers have gone on to publish their own books of poetry and fiction, such as Lydia Kwa, Larissa Lai, Fiona Tinwei Lam, Lydia Kwa and Rita Wong.
Since then we’ve published other books by Asian Canadian writers as part of our mandate to publish literature that expands our ideas about ourselves and the world we live in, and to counter the traditional master narrative of our country with points of view that are decidedly outside of the mainstream. We are particularly proud of publishing a new edition of Larissa Lai’s beautiful novel When Fox is a Thousand, Terry Watada’s sweeping novel: Kuroshio: The Blood of Foxes about the Japanese coming to North America, artist Gu Xiong’s The Yellow Pear about his experience as a new immigrant from mainland China, and David Wong’s extraordinary and groundbreaking graphic novel Escape to Gold Mountain. But our task of connecting books with readers around the world pales in comparison to the solitary creative work done by our writers, who, despite the relatively paltry compensation, are passionate in their dedication to tell the stories they want and need to tell. With this in mind, I want to thank Jim Wong-Chu, David Wong, Larissa Lai, Terry Watada, Hiromi Goto, Gu Xiong, Andy Quan, Tamai Kobayashi, Ashok Mathur, Wayde Compton, David Chariandy and so many others for entrusting us with their books and their stories.
I also want to thank the team at Arsenal with whom I share this award – Robert, Susan, Gerilee, and Cynara; they are a creative and hard-working lot, and I, as well as our writers, appreciate them for their professionalism and dedication, whether it is editing manuscripts, designing book covers, putting together author tours, or getting books onto store shelves. Finally, I wish to thank the Asian Canadian Writers Workshop not only for this award, but for the good work that they do to promote and assist writers across the country, and for giving new generations of writers the confidence and the skill to tell their own stories for generations to come.
Thad McIlroy, a publishing consultant who was Pulp’s sales director back in the 1970s, once said, “It’s hard to get publishing out of your blood,” and I agree. It is a terrifying, backbreaking business, but one that I personally can’t imagine ever leaving. So on behalf of Arsenal Pulp Press, I thank you all for this wonderful vote of confidence and recognition.
[2013]
