Marcia of the Doorstep by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Most people probably wouldn't expect the words "Marcia of the Doorstep" to precede the byline "by Edgar Rice Burroughs." I don't even think most people familiar with the Burroughs canon would expect them, actually. But Marcia of the Doorstep is indeed a novel by Edgar Rice Burroughs. In fact, it is the longest novel he ever wrote. But it wasn't published until fairly recently--1999 1--and it was produced by a small publisher--Donald M. Grant, Inc. And there were two editions released simultaneously, one of which was a signed edition limited to 750 copies, which makes me wonder how many were printed for the trade edition, but in any event there was no second printing, so I'm pretty sure that means that there weren't a ton of them.

It was also one of the two Edgar Rice Burroughs books that 
I couldn't find on the internet (Gutenberg Australia has a shitload of ERB's books), in a Kindle edition, or as a cheap used paperback. In fact prices for both of those books (the other being You Lucky Girl!, which seems to have been produced in identical conditions as was Marcia of the Doorstep) range from $30 to over $300. I could convince myself to pay $30 if there wasn't any other choice, but the only book I'd pay $300 for would be a copy of the New Testament signed by all of the original authors. 2 

Fortunately, after checking Amazon, Alibris, and AbeBooks--'cause if you can't find it on one of them, it probably doesn't exist--I typed it into the search box for the public library. Don't know why, as there was NO CHANCE that the Louisville Free PL would have such a thing. Except that they did. Faith and beggorah. And I suspect that it's not in high demand, as when I put in a request it only took a few days for it to arrive in my holds at the local branch I frequent. And get this   . . . it's one of the limited edition books. Copy #197, to be precise. With a real "official" rubber stamp Edgar Rice Burroughs signature . . . as well as real live signatures from Danton Burroughs (son of John Coleman Burroughs, who did quite a few illustrations for ERB's works, and grandson of ERB), Ned Dameron (who did some lovely illustrations for Marcia of the Doorstep, and who has done cover illustrations for Stephen King's Dark Tower series), and Dr. Henry H. Heins (who wrote a review of Marcia of the Doorstep which appears before Danton Burroughs's introduction to the book . . . or perhaps I should say "review," since it is really just a plot summary. Which I found puzzling. Why did that seem like a good idea?).

The novel itself . . . .  Well, I do love Edgar Rice Burroughs. I am hoping to read every one of his books . . . but I can see why this book wasn't published during his lifetime. I don't want to pull a Richard A. Lupoff on ERB, but Marcia of the Doorstep is not so good. I mean, really, even the title. It means that Marcia was found on a doorstep, as you probably surmised immediately. For some reason I could only think of "steppe" when I first read the title, so I had a different image entirely. Well, it's just a bad title, isn't it? And the book itself is kind of downhill from there. There are incredibly improbable plot twists which drive the story forward . . . and the language throughout is stylized and stilted. It's like watching kabuki theater unfold on the page. But there are parts, like when the yacht that several leading characters are on flounders in mid-ocean, which are quite gripping. And it wasn't a chore to read or anything like that.

The book is a lovely piece of workmanship. Ned Dameron's cover isn't my cup of tea, but it's good work . . . as are his five interior illustrations. And check out this binding:

Sewn binding isn't very common on American-made hardback books (alas). (And there are six of those stitches on each of the signatures.) Also, I can't seem to do anything to show it, but the quality of the paper that's used is very high. It even has a kind of texture-y look to it  . . . little lines that go through the material. Very nice indeed. It's actually worth the $30 or more for the craftsmanship.

On de otter hant . . . the editor should be fired, as should the proofreader--if there was one. There must be two hundred errors in this text. Literally. Most of them are in the formation of possessives. Quite a few of them are "it's" being used as a possessive form. Grade school shit. I doubt that there are many pages in this book which do not contain at least one error. Which is pretty shameful. ERB deserves better. As do his readers.


So . . . I went to the interlibrary loan page and put in a request for You Lucky Girl!: A Love Story in Three Acts, which is the last ERB book I need to acquire. I don't know what the odds on getting it are. When I was on my Philip Wylie craze, I managed to get most of the rare books I needed through interlibrary loan. There are copies at several university libraries in the area . . . including one at the University of Louisville, but that one is in the Archives & Special Collections section, and those books don't circulate. But maybe one of the other places will give it up for a minute. If all else fails, Amazon sells a copy for $30, so I can do that. (Right now it says that it only has one copy left in stock, though, which makes me a little nervous.)

More news as it happens.





1 You know you're old when you write "fairly recently" reference an event and then think about it later and realize that you're referring to something that happened almost twenty years ago. 

2 Which reminds me of a story. I met one of my all-time greatest friends, Matthew Thompson, whilst serving in the 101st Military Intelligence (later Combat Intelligence) Company in Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. (In fact, my number one son's middle name is Matthew, after MT.) Unfortunately we've lost touch and I no longer know how to get back in touch, but I still think about him on a regular basis. Well     . . . when we were in the army Matthew was about as frugal as it's possible to be. He ate all of his meals in the mess hall, didn't have a car, and rarely bought anything except for iced tea and cigarettes. And one night as I and some other friends were having our dinner in the mess hall, Matthew came in and sat down and said that he had just bought an album. I looked up and said, "Was it Jesus Live at Gethsemane?" (Turns out, by the way, that it was the first album by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.)