It may be that the Urge to Publish is one of the basic instincts of post-Gutenberg civilization. Certainly publishers’ mail bags are fat with the offerings of would-be authors, and the GPO of every capital city does a brisk trade in padded bags for unsolicited manuscripts.

Faced with the possession of an ever- boomeranging opus, what do aspiring authors do? Some bury their grief in the wardrobe bottom drawer; some indulge in a ritual burnt offering. Others, made of sterner stuff, either enter into negotiations with a vanity press or go into business for themselves.