DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Fanomena, March 1948

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Fanomena, March 1948

Page 13

"INDEPENDENCE"
DAVID H. KELLER

"Every man," said Jones to a few of us gathered around the fire-place, "has a right to the free exercise of his own desire." We all laughed at him.
"No one can do as he wishes," replied Smithson, the lawyer, in a pompous manner. "It would result in anarchy. We are all bound by convention, law, taboos. Our conduct is predicated by our heredity, surroundings, education. No one is a free agent." He said it in such a way that no one could doubt him.
Jones laughed.
"I seem to have but few supporters. Nevertheless I am sure that I am right, and recently have acted on a matter which nicely illustrates my idea. I am, as you know about forty years old. For years I have wanted to write a book and illustrate it. I had definite ideas as to the material of the book and the kind of illustrations. Not being either an author or an artist it all was very difficult. In addition I had the urge of my ancestors toward a purity of life and thought that I am sure now was more prudery than purity. In other words, the book and its illustrations were to be of a character not approved of by my ancestors. 
"Of course my ancestors were all dead but parts of them lived anew in me. Had I only had some Pagan blood in me, the entire task would have been less difficult, but my forebears were ministers, moral lawyers and college professors. Their blood in me rebelled at such an undertaking as I had planned. Yet I started in a small way. First a book had to be written and I had never written one of any kind. It was necessary to learn the mechanics, the technique of writing. It took me some years--you understand?--of correspondence courses and painful plodding, and while I was doing that, learning to write, it became the custom to prepare manuscripts on the typewriter and because I was sure I could not entrust my material to the average stenographer,  I had learned to use a Corona.
"Of course there were interruptions. I had to live and ultimately support my family. At times a year or more would pass without having time even to think about the book. Then too, the very fact of the wife and children bothered me. It was a question whether I, as a supposedly moral man with a family, should entertain such ideas, and still worse, to put them into actual existence.
"In those early years I wrote chapter after chapter of the book only to burn them after they were written. I would write a chapter and feel perfectly satisfied with it and then my conscience would bother me and into the fire it would go. It took me twenty years to complete my first book and even that was burned. Finally the book was finished. A suitable title at once presented itself. No other name suited it as well as the one I first thought, 'The Passionate Lover'. So slowly, carefully I copied it all on the Corona--just one copy-- destroyed in this very fireplace the written manuscript, and finally had everything ready for the binder. I could not have bound it in town; I could not be sure that the bookbinder could be trusted to not read it, so I took it to New York and had it bound by an Italian who did beautiful work but could not read English.
"I had it bound in two volumes. Between every two pages of manuscript was a blank page for my illustrations. You see, up to present time I had no pictures, it being necessary first to have the text to illustrate. Ultimately the two volumes were in my house, securely locked in a secret drawer of the old desk over there in the corner. The first part of my desire had been accomplished after some twenty years of endeavor."
"In other words," slowly spoke our minister, "after reaching the age of maturity, when my youth gave you no excuse, you finally wrote an immoral book." All of us moved restlessly in our chairs. Jones seemed less disturbed than the rest of us as he continued.
"Exactly true. After twenty years of effort I had finally written an immoral book. It was wrong but beautiful, and certain pages were worthy of being classed
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"INDEPENDENCE" DAVID H. KELLER "Every man," said Jones to a few of us gathered around the fire-place, "has a right to the free exercise of his own desire." We all laughed at him. "No one can do as he wishes," replied Smithson, the lawyer, in a pompous manner. "It would result in anarchy. We are all bound by convention, law, taboos. Our conduct is predicated by our heredity, surroundings, education. No one is a free agent." He said it in such a way that no one could doubt him. Jones laughed. "I seem to have but few supporters. Nevertheless I am sure that I am right, and recently have acted on a matter which nicely illustrates my idea. I am, as you know about forty years old. For years I have wanted to write a book and illustrate it. I had definite ideas as to the material of the book and the kind of illustrations. Not being either an author or an artist it all was very difficult. In addition I had the urge of my ancestors toward a purity of life and thought that I am sure now was more prudery than purity. In other words, the book and its illustrations were to be of a character not approved of by my ancestors. "Of course my ancestors were all dead but parts of them lived anew in me. Had I only had some Pagan blood in me, the entire task would have been less difficult, but my forebears were ministers, moral lawyers and college professors. Their blood in me rebelled at such an undertaking as I had planned. Yet I started in a small way. First a book had to be written and I had never written one of any kind. It was necessary to learn the mechanics, the technique of writing. It took me some years--you understand?--of correspondence courses and painful plodding, and while I was doing that, learning to write, it became the custom to prepare manuscripts on the typewriter and because I was sure I could not entrust my material to the average stenographer, I had learned to use a Corona. "Of course there were interruptions. I had to live and ultimately support my family. At times a year or more would pass without having time even to think about the book. Then too, the very fact of the wife and children bothered me. It was a question whether I, as a supposedly moral man with a family, should entertain such ideas, and still worse, to put them into actual existence. "In those early years I wrote chapter after chapter of the book only to burn them after they were written. I would write a chapter and feel perfectly satisfied with it and then my conscience would bother me and into the fire it would go. It took me twenty years to complete my first book and even that was burned. Finally the book was finished. A suitable title at once presented itself. No other name suited it as well as the one I first thought, 'The Passionate Lover'. So slowly, carefully I copied it all on the Corona--just one copy-- destroyed in this very fireplace the written manuscript, and finally had everything ready for the binder. I could not have bound it in town; I could not be sure that the bookbinder could be trusted to not read it, so I took it to New York and had it bound by an Italian who did beautiful work but could not read English. "I had it bound in two volumes. Between every two pages of manuscript was a blank page for my illustrations. You see, up to present time I had no pictures, it being necessary first to have the text to illustrate. Ultimately the two volumes were in my house, securely locked in a secret drawer of the old desk over there in the corner. The first part of my desire had been accomplished after some twenty years of endeavor." "In other words," slowly spoke our minister, "after reaching the age of maturity, when my youth gave you no excuse, you finally wrote an immoral book." All of us moved restlessly in our chairs. Jones seemed less disturbed than the rest of us as he continued. "Exactly true. After twenty years of effort I had finally written an immoral book. It was wrong but beautiful, and certain pages were worthy of being classed 13