The Borzoi 1920

In Short

This collection documents the first five years of the Alfred A. Knopf publishing firm. It functions as a hybrid: a literary miscellany featuring original essays by authors like Willa Cather and H. L. Mencken, a manifesto on the role of literature in a revolutionary age by Maxim Gorky, and a detailed bibliography of the firm’s catalog. By presenting the company not as a mere business but as a “companionable enterprise,” the book offers a rare, intimate look at the relationship between mid-century publishers and the writers who shaped their lists.

The Story

The narrative begins with a foreword that establishes the publisher’s intent: to move beyond the “bare lists” of standard catalogs and offer readers a permanent record of a creative venture. This vision is immediately expanded by an introduction from Maxim Gorky, who provides a philosophical anchor for the volume. Gorky argues that literature is inherently revolutionary, a “great vindication” of humanity that seeks to transcend the degrading conditions of existence. He posits that the creative spirit serves as a secular religion capable of washing away the artificial barriers of race and class.

Following this philosophical opening, the book pivots to a series of original papers commissioned specifically for this volume. These entries reveal a vibrant, often irreverent intellectual community. Contributors provide sketches of their peers, such as H. L. Mencken’s appraisal of his professional partner, George Jean Nathan, and Carl Van Vechten’s whimsical reflections on the art of living. The tone shifts from the high-minded to the personal, with anecdotes about early business meetings, the “psychic” impressions writers had of their publisher, and vivid, gritty accounts of life during the Great War.

The center of the book provides a functional architecture: a “Who’s Who” of the authors associated with the Borzoi imprint. Here, the life stories of figures ranging from political radicals like P. Kropotkin to novelists like Somerset Maugham are condensed into biographical sketches. These entries humanize the catalog, grounding the abstract lists of titles in the lived experiences—frontier childhoods, prison escapes, and editorial careers—of those who wrote them.

The volume concludes by looking forward. The publisher outlines the firm’s upcoming projects and the specific editorial philosophies driving their future acquisitions. From translations of Javanese feminist writings to studies of psychoanalysis and modern social science, the closing sections illustrate a commitment to global intellectual inquiry. By merging the retrospective—the history of the first five years—with a forward-looking prospectus, the text paints a picture of a publishing house defined by its eclectic curiosity and a belief in the necessity of the written word.

How It Unfolds

The philosophical foundation The volume opens by positioning the act of publishing as a service to the human spirit. Maxim Gorky argues that the "art of the word and image" is the primary tool for raising man above the "fetters of the degrading actuality."

The personal reflection The contributors shift the focus to the internal culture of the publishing firm. Authors like Claude Bragdon share lighthearted, anecdotal stories about their first meetings with their publisher, stripping away the formality of the industry.

The critical assessment The text turns to deep-dive essays where authors evaluate their colleagues' work and character. These pieces, such as George Jean Nathan’s defense of H. L. Mencken, prioritize professional integrity and the "wholesomeness of hatred" over polite, industry-standard pleasantries.

The archival record The book transitions into its bibliographic core, providing a "Who’s Who" of the contributors and a detailed catalog of the house’s titles. This section bridges the gap between the artistic essays and the commercial reality of a 1920s publishing house.

The vision for the future The final movement maps out the upcoming season’s releases. The publisher describes the editorial process behind these books, offering a glimpse into the specific intellectual trends and international literature they intend to bring to American readers.

The People

The book is defined by a tight-knit circle of writers, critics, and publishers who see themselves as a "companionable enterprise." Alfred A. Knopf emerges as an energetic, youthful presence, characterized by his "quiet certitude" and a desire to build a list of "quality belles lettres." He is contrasted against the "picturesque" image his authors once had of him, ultimately appearing as a man who genuinely cares for the craft of bookmaking.

H. L. Mencken and George Jean Nathan occupy a central place in this circle. Nathan describes their partnership as one built on "mutual approval" rather than social convenience. Mencken is depicted as a "fighter"—relentless, honest, and entirely free of the hypocrisy he claims to despise. Their presence sets a tone of intellectual rigor that permeates the essays. Willa Cather, Joseph Hergesheimer, and other contributors act as the "author-friends" of the house, each bringing a distinct voice—from the formal integrity of Hergesheimer’s prose to the meditative, observational style found in the broader contributions. These figures are not just names on a spine; they are presented as individuals with strong, often conflicting, opinions on art, war, and the nature of the modern world.

In Its Own Voice

"The habitual is not always banal, for it is habitual for man to be consumed in the hell fire of his vocation, and this self-consumption is always beautiful and necessary."

(Gorky, in his opening meditation on the nature of creative work.)

"We are friends and partners, not because we admire each other’s beauty, or each other’s conversation, or each other’s waistcoats or wives, but because we respect each other professionally."

(Nathan, describing his working relationship with Mencken.)

"I thought that the commonplace things, the things we all see and know, live by and live with, have so far merely been skirted, and that the provinces which remain to be explored and described and celebrated by imaginative writers are endless."

(An author reflecting on the infinite possibilities still left for writers to document.)

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is an argument for the vitality of the independent press as a cultural necessity. It grapples with the tension between the commercial requirements of publishing and the higher calling of literature. The contributors pose deep questions about how to document the "actual life" of a changing world, whether through fiction, social science, or historical reflection. There is a persistent theme of "self-consumption" in one's vocation—the idea that the artist's life is meant to be spent in the service of their work. Ultimately, the book serves as a declaration that publishing is a, if not the, primary vehicle for the "ennobled will of men" to destroy the errors of prejudice and ignorance.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy literary history and the "behind the scenes" culture of the early 20th century will find this volume deeply engaging. It captures a moment when the American publishing landscape was shifting toward a more cosmopolitan, international outlook, heavily influenced by the intellectual rigor of the period. The book feels like a conversation in a crowded, smoke-filled room, full of sharp-witted critique and earnest passion.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the specific attitudes of the 1920s. The text displays period-specific views on race, class, and colonial power that reflect the era’s prevailing social hierarchies. The language is sophisticated and occasionally dense, particularly in the philosophical sections, and the bibliography will be of primary interest to those who value the history of the physical book and its market. What stays with you is the sheer optimism of the enterprise; there is a palpable sense of excitement in the way the publisher and his authors talk about "epoch-making" works. It serves as a reminder of a time when the arrival of a new book was treated with a gravity that feels both distant and profoundly, refreshingly familiar to the book-lover.