The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne

In Short

This book is a spirited, satirical parody of Edward FitzGerald’s translation of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. By adopting the same iconic stanza structure and contemplative tone, the author transforms a meditation on mortality into a sharp critique of the American book market circa 1904. It lampoons the rise of "best-sellers," the influence of aggressive advertising, and the fickle nature of public taste. While the specific authors mentioned have largely faded from modern memory, the cynical observations about the tension between artistic integrity and commercial success remain strikingly relevant.

The Story

The narrative begins with a call to arms directed at the "Hack"—the modern writer who threatens to drown serious literature in a sea of mediocre prose. The speaker laments that while classic masters like Scott and Dumas gather dust, the public is being force-fed "historical romances" and sentimental tales by obscure, "cock-sure" newcomers. The cycle is relentless: a publisher promotes a new title with massive advertising, the public buys it in droves, and within a year, the book is forgotten, replaced by the next "sensational" release.

As the speaker wanders through the landscape of the literary world, he observes the mechanics of this fleeting fame. He notes how magazines, cluttered with advertisements for soap and breakfast food, serve as the primary venues for this disposable fiction. He highlights the irony that high-earning authors of the day, such as those writing "Home-and-Mother" tales, are rewarded with wealth while those pursuing genuine artistry are left to starve. The "Editor" emerges as the central gatekeeper, a figure driven by market trends, sales figures, and the preferences of a fickle audience rather than literary merit.

The speaker’s frustration deepens as he encounters the mysterious, impenetrable "master-tales" of popular writers like Kipling, which leave both the public and the critics baffled, yet remain top sellers simply because they are "boomed" by the press. He reflects on his own failed attempts to succeed in this system, admitting that he has resorted to writing these very satires to make ends meet. He finds a grim humor in his own situation: he is just another cog in the machine, mocking the very industry he relies on for his livelihood.

The arc of the poem leads the reader into the inner sanctum—the Editor’s office. Here, the speaker finds piles of manuscripts, each representing an author’s desperate hope for recognition. The manuscripts themselves seem to speak, trading cynical insights about their own inevitable rejection or their potential to sell if only they were illustrated by the right artist. When the Editor finally appears, the speaker realizes he is just as trapped as the hopeful authors he rejects; they are all merely catering to the "General Public," a fickle judge whose taste is "debased."

The poem closes with a reflection on the vanity of the whole endeavor. The speaker realizes that even the most celebrated authors are destined for the "garbage barrel." He poses a final, uncomfortable question to the reader: who is truly to blame for the literary dross—the writer who produces it, or the audience that demands it? Ultimately, he pleads with the reader to remember him, knowing full well that he, too, will soon be lost to the "oblivion" of the library shelves.

How It Unfolds

The critique of the marketplace The poem opens by contrasting the enduring legacy of classic literature with the "blithering blight" of the penny-a-liner. It establishes the central conflict: the erosion of artistic standards by a publishing industry obsessed with rapid turnover and aggressive advertising.

The anatomy of the bestseller The middle stanzas detail the lifecycle of a typical book, from its launch in a monthly magazine to its rapid descent into the bargain bin. The speaker examines the influence of the "literary microbe," a force that compels writers to produce endless, interchangeable stories to satisfy public demand.

The mystery of editorial judgment The speaker shifts focus to the Editor, who operates under a veil of secrecy. He observes how these gatekeepers must guess what the public wants, relying on everything from their own instincts to the advice of their stenographers.

A tour of the editor’s desk The narrative culminates in a surreal visit to an office filled with stacks of rejected manuscripts. These papers engage in a dialogue, revealing the despair, delusion, and cynical pragmatism of the authors who penned them.

The final resignation The poem concludes with a somber recognition of the author's own failure to escape the system. The speaker accepts his fate as a part of the passing show, offering a final, rueful request for remembrance before he, too, fades from view.

The People

The Speaker is the primary consciousness, a weary but witty observer who is both a participant in and a critic of the literary machine. He wants to produce work that matters, but he is constantly thwarted by his own financial need and the public’s taste for "balderdash." By the end, he has largely abandoned his idealism, accepting that he is just as much a "mountebank" as the writers he mocks.

The Editor acts as the antagonist, though he is depicted as a man caught in his own trap. He is the personification of the publishing industry, driven by circulation numbers and the bottom line. He does not necessarily value literature; he values what sells. He is described as someone who "knows what people want" and who must constantly balance the demands of the "General Public" against the endless stream of incoming manuscripts.

The General Public is the invisible, looming force that dictates all. It is fickle, easily swayed by advertising, and seemingly incapable of distinguishing between high art and pure trash. The public’s appetite for "senseless" stories and "syncopated" songs drives the writers to sacrifice their talents. They are the ultimate judge, yet they are, in the speaker’s view, profoundly unqualified for the role.

In Its Own Voice

Wake! For the Hack can scatter into flight Shakespere and Dante in a single Night!

The poem begins with this urgent warning, establishing the speaker's disdain for the modern, rapid-fire nature of early 1900s publishing.

I sometimes think that never Prose is read So good as that by Advertising bred,

The speaker offers this biting observation on how promotional efforts often overshadow the actual quality of the writing being sold.

We are no other than a passing Show Of clumsy Mountebanks that come and go

In a moment of resignation, the speaker describes himself and his peers as mere performers, transient and ultimately insignificant in the eyes of history.

What It's Really About

The book is an interrogation of the value of art in a consumer-driven society. It argues that the "literary" landscape is not governed by merit but by the cold calculations of commerce—advertising, distribution, and the pursuit of mass appeal. The author explores the psychological toll this takes on the writer, who must choose between starving for their art or pandering to a "debased" public. It also touches on the fleeting nature of fame, positing that even the most successful writers are merely filling space until the next trend arrives. Ultimately, it asks whether a "best-seller" can ever be considered literature, or if the two concepts are fundamentally and irreconcilably at odds.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy literary history, biting social satire, or the specific wit of the early twentieth century will find this work fascinating. It feels like a long-lost ancestor to modern critiques of "content culture," capturing the exact same anxiety about how technology and marketing influence what we consume. The rhythm is catchy and the tone is unapologetically cynical, making it a quick and punchy read that resists taking itself too seriously.

However, the book presents some challenges. It relies heavily on the names of authors, books, and magazines that were household names in 1904 but are now largely obscure; reading it requires an appreciation for the type of literature being mocked, even if you haven't read the specific titles mentioned. Additionally, the author's world-weary, slightly elitist stance toward the "General Public" reflects the social attitudes of its time. If you can move past the dated references, however, you will find a timeless, sardonic meditation on the grind of being a professional writer. It is a work that lingers in the mind, reminding us that the struggle between "selling out" and "staying true" is as old as the printing press itself.