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George Pollock State KidIssue 63
Up From Dystopia
Billy's book, Dystopia, came out to almost uniformly negative reviews.One reviewer, who was typical, wrote, “For such gutter talk, this jailbird should have hisfilthy mouth washed out with soap. Before handling the book itself, one would be advisedto air it thoroughly to get rid of a pungent East Side alley reek. Better yet, put Billy Stone back in prison where he is so obviously at home.”Citizens' and parents' groups attacked the book as anti-family, anti-American, anti-Christian and a “corrupter of the young.” Education officials in Texas and California, the biggest buyers of books for schools, condemned the book as “a distortion andundercutting of traditional American values.” Other states, including Massachusetts,followed the lead of Texas and California.Professor Harvey Einsohn, Chairman of the Fairview English Department, went to Billy'sdefense. In an article in The Atlantic Monthly, he accused critics and state educationofficials of “book-burning censorship of a startlingly original book by a young author of uncommon talent and courage.” He described Dystopia as “squarely in the tradition of Huckleberry Finn,” and “unflinchingly authentic” and “a tour de force.”But Professor Einsohn's was a lonely voice.***Billy took the attacks hard. Sister Francis Helen, now an Adjunct Editor at Royal Books,told him to put them out of his head. She said, “Book critics are cowards who crawl outof their holes after the battle to shoot the wounded. Ignore them. The same thinghappened with Huckleberry Finn. Twain's critics were wrong then, they're wrong now,and they will stay wrong. They're wrong about you, too. The critics could have beenmuch harder on you, however.”“I don't see how.”“They could have been indifferent. They could have treated you as beneath notice. Butwhen they got a book in their hands unlike any they had ever read, that was fearless, thatturned literary convention on its head, that challenged their core values, that was alien tothem -- they lashed out. You should consider it a high compliment.”“Some compliment.”“How would you feel if nobody wanted to publish your book or if it were published andignored?”“I wouldn't care -- except that without the book, I'd still be in jail.”“Billy, you have done what I myself have not been able to do.”“You?”“I have not been able to interest any agent or publisher in my work. Yes, I have read the
 
great writers and I can tell good writing from bad writing and good writing from greatwriting. I can edit a manuscript. But I am only a midwife to true talent. God has not givenme the creative gift that He has given others.”In all the time they had spent together, it was the first time that Sister Francis Helen hadever made personal reference to herself, and it took Billy by surprise. The iron woman in black with the permanent scowl had revealed a human and vulnerable side that Billy hadno idea was there.Feeling like a new confidante, he said, “God has nothing to do with it.”Sister Francis Helen recoiled.“Go on TV and get famous -- they'll come running. That's what happened to me. It may be about writing for you and me, but for publishers, it's about publicity, money, andscandal. Were the publishers fighting over my book because they thought it containedgood writing? It was because my face was on TV, my name was in the newspapers, thestory reeked of perversion behind bars and there was money to be made. You don't need agift from God, Sister, you just need a good publicity agent.”“That is cynical and blasphemic.”“Let's see, how can we get you on TV? Here's a thought. I happen to know that Father Colahan has an eye for a pretty nun. If you were to throw him a smile with a photographer present, I could have the photo sent around. When tongues start wagging,we organize a press conference to deny the rumors. You go into hiding. The whole idea,Sister, is we feed the publicity machine while shrouding you in secrecy.”Sister Francis Helen's face went rigid.“At the peak of media interest, my agent lets it slip that you have a hot manuscript -- andthere's a stampede to publish it. You take the money and give them a book far better thanthey deserve and, because of the publicity, it makes money. Everybody is happy, exceptfor Father Colahan, who I assume would come away with nothing but frustration.”“How dare you ....”“Just kidding, Sister, just
kidding 
. I thought it would be funny, that's all. It's not funny -- Iunderstand that. I take back every word. I was only trying to help, to pay you back for allyou have done for me.”“You don't have to, Billy. God did not intend for me to be a writer. I accept His will.”“Why? God was willing to let me rot in prison. He didn't get me out -- I did! If you wantto be a writer, be one! Let God accept
 your 
will!”The words had just tumbled out. Billy stood before Sister Francis Helen, head bowed, penitent, awaiting her wrath.“Poor Father Colahan,” Sister Francis Helen mused. “The very thought of his being usedthat way ... well, it would be most unseemly and disagreeable. One would certainly wishto avoid such sordidness.”“Would you be seeing Father Colahan any time soon, Sister?”“As it happens, next week we will both be attending a fund-raiser for the needy, but Icertainly expect that the occasion will NOT be one for media-mongering of any kind.”
 
“Oh, no, Sister. You've been perfectly clear about how you feel about that. But you know,the media is out of control and does what it wants.”“Unfortunately.”“I'll do my best to rein them in, but...”“I understand.”“Well, we'll hope for the best then.”“Yes.”***The next time they spoke, Billy told Sister Francis Helen that he had started a new story.“What is your new story about?”“I've noticed a blind woman. Every morning, she leaves her home, alone, well-dressed,face shining and feels her way down the sidewalk, tapping and waving her long stick. Shecomes to a busy street with rush-hour traffic roaring by. One more step and she'd be dead.But she turns and walks a short way to the bus stop where she waits for the bus. When the bus comes, she gets on and goes off to wherever she goes. I thought:
This woman has alife
. I'm imagining what it might be.”“Her long stick has a name, you know.”“I know. I'll find out.”“Please do. I do not wish to read 'long stick' in anything you give me.”“Does that mean you will continue as my editor?”“It means nothing of the sort. Why this story?”“I want to imagine lives and experiences not connected to my own. I am sick of me.”“Tired of drawing from your own personal-history chest?”“Yes.”“Congratulations. You wish to advance to a new level as a writer.”“Sister, will you help me go to that new level?”“Yes.”“The only thing is, does it always have to be criticism? Sometimes it gets me downalways hearing only what's wrong.”“Young man, criticism from an editor is more useful to a writer than praise. I will be your editor, not your mother.”***Despite all the bad reviews, despite being all but banned in America's schools, kids readDystopia anyway. It sold well around the country, as David Weatherall had predicted. Asso often happens, all the moral condemnation did was improve sales. Billy startedreceiving fat royalty checks.There was one dark cloud, however -- Billy came to regret the graphic language in
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