When I bought a house in Prospect Park four years ago, I chose the area for the beautiful trees, stately homes, winding streets, and The Loft. Only after the papers were signed did I discover that The Loft was relocating from its long-time home in the beautiful old Pratt school building to a swanky new space on Washington Avenue under the auspices of a complete literary community center to be known as The Open Book. The slap of disappointment I felt passed pretty quickly, because, after all, it was still a great house in a lovely neighborhood, and anyway, it turned out that the materialization of a vision as ambitious as the one behind The Open Book—home also to the Minnesota Center for Book Arts and Ruminator Books—was symbolic of all the reasons this is a great town for writers.
Minnesota is readily acknowledged as an extremely fertile environment for writing, but not so many realize that we’re also home to a healthy handful of acclaimed literary presses whose lists have garnered the attention of critics nationally, and whose freedom to take risks and publish daring work for its own merit rather than for the bottom line has attracted writers with the muscle to interest any number of New York houses. Arguably some of the best new work in the most difficult to publish genres—poetry and short fiction, as well as the novel and memoir—is finding a home (or at least a house) right here in fly-over country.
Holy Cow, New Rivers, Graywolf, Ruminator, Milkweed, Coffee House… these are not trendy herbal teas. They’re six impressive literary presses among a growing number of Minnesota book publishers whose reputations have begun to make this a destination of significant literary interest. But the Minnesota publishing scene is not limited to the literati, either. There are over 60 publishers here, churning out everything from manuals and scientific tomes to school texts. Lerner Publishing is actually one of the largest independent scholastic publishers in the country. And our market boasts a cadre of self-helpers and some impressive liturgical presses, as well as Llewellyn Worldwide—the largest new age publisher in the world, conjuring up an average of 100 titles per year.
“We’re the third largest center for publishing in the country,” says Brad Vogt, board member of the Minnesota Book Publishers Roundtable, an organization that’s been promoting and networking the industry for more than 30 years. “We have over 70 members in the group and some really passionate and respected people,” says Vogt. “You go to other places beyond New York and San Francisco and there’s nothing like what we have here.” Vogt recalls his own brief encounter with celebrity at a national book expo last year. “I was walking around a corner and suddenly there was this big picture of Fiona [McCrae, publisher of Graywolf]. She’s really known in the industry.” Now if you’re not on a first-name basis with Fiona and wouldn’t recognize her picture if it were on a box of Wheaties, you might have to stretch a bit to appreciate the point Vogt is making. But in a business where, unless you get chosen by Oprah, you work steadily along in relative obscurity regardless of whatever success you achieve, Vogt’s anecdote is worth something.
Margaret McConaghay, chair of Graywolf’s board, concurs with Vogt. “We’re probably better known in Boston and New York, but among people who really know literature, our attention is international. We have lots of people writing and we get submissions from all over the world. We’re publishing an Iraqi poet this fall. We think it’s an important role to bring new voices from all over.” That philosophy, exercised at a rate of about seven books a year, makes Graywolf Press an industry powerhouse. But it doesn’t come easy.
These local presses, like most artistic endeavors, have largely been brought to life by a solo visionary who chugged quietly—but doggedly—along for years, sniffing out talent and frequently publishing first works, nurturing authors, creating a catalog, cultivating a vision and a readership… and frequently accumulating award after award along the way.
Milkweed Editions, a unique collaboration between artist Randy Scholes and writer Emilie Buchwald, published its first book in 1984. That same year, Allan Kornblum opened the doors of Coffee House Press. He started out with a homemade poetry magazine in the 70s, a “rite of passage that everybody did,” and turned his endeavor into Coffee House. That same year, Graywolf, which had been around since 1974 in Port Townsend, Washington, moved to the friendlier funding waters of Minneapolis. Between the three of them they represent a catalog of over 500 books. “People on the coasts know we’re here, that’s certain,” says Kornblum. “There’s a real community that’s evolved.” Fiona McCrae says, “We have a sort of critical mass together. People realize across the nation that there’s something unique here.”
“Other presses around the country are jealous,” says Lisa Bullard, a writer who’s worked on and off for a number of local publishers for many years. “The fact that there’s more than one press gives us a forum to talk and get together, to figure out overlap and ways we can work together. Open Book grew out of that kind of talking.” Creative energy of this sort is crucial in a vocation as solitary as writing. “I come from New York, but being here is terrific,” says Kornblum. “I love having first-rate peers at Milkweed and Graywolf. I have the highest respect for Buchwald and McCrae. I really value giving them a call, exchanging info, bitching a little. It’s a pleasure being in a town with The Loft, the Center for the Book, Ruminator. It’s great to be a part of it.”
Lisa Bullard explains the niche these publishers have carved out for themselves as similar to baseball’s “farm leagues.” New York publishers can’t take the risk on new authors, but their pragmatism leaves a void for others to experiment. This often becomes apparent at big trade shows. “New York editors would come to our booth and practically weep, saying, ‘Oh you get to do that, you get to publish real books!’” says Bullard. “These are people who love books too, but their concerns are mostly commercial. They have to rely on us to find the raw talent and take a risk. They can’t nurture someone’s career. Editors are moving constantly, and nurturing an author is not a long-term prospect anymore.”
Even at the best small presses, the commitment to cultivate talent over time is no small task. But slowly, against the tide of chain stores, return contracts, and limited advertising budgets, rewards can eventually emerge. After 18 years of effort, Emilie Buchwald received in September the McKnight Foundation’s annual Distinguished Artist Award, which recognizes “those individuals who, individually and collectively, laid the foundation for the rich cultural life Minnesota enjoys today.” Buchwald says, “It’s quite wonderful. They do it simply to make the point that in different areas of the arts there are contributions that call attention to many art forms. This award is something that brings Milkweed into prominence, but it also shines a light on all literary publishing activity. I’m delighted to be the first in local publishing and also the first woman to receive the award.” We can surely expect similar things from the local coterie of true literati.
On a related note, RainTaxi’s “Twin Cities Book Festival” takes place October 12 at International Market Square in Minneapolis.
Jeannine Ouellette is the associate editor of The Rake.
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