Little Magazine, World Form

4 This should not come as much of a surprise. Even Frederick John Hoffman, Charles Albert Allen, and Carolyn F. Ulrich divided their little magazines (and “fellow travelers”) into different categories that included Poetry and Others in one chapter and the Little Review in another, before branching off into the “‘Tendenz’ Magazine,” “Modern Poetry and the Little Magazine,” “Political Directions in the Literature of the Thirties,” “Variations on the Psychoanalytic Theme,” and “The Critical and Eclectic Little Magazine.” Hoffman, Allen, and Ulrich, The Little Magazine: A History and Bibliography (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1946). This desire to organize the little magazine around different titles and tendencies, in fact, was not new. It was very common to provide some kind of editorial explaining how they were aligning or deviating from what else was out there. In Secession, for instance, Gorham Munson, the editor, came up with three different strains of “literary reviews in America” (the Little Review, Broom, and the New Republic), all of them deficient in their own way. “Secession,” he explains, “aims to be neither a personal nor an anthological magazine, but to be a group organ.” Munson, “Interstice Between Scylla and Charybdis,” Secession, no. 2 (July 1922): 32.

5 Here I am adapting a methodological formulation suggested by Fredric Jameson in his controversial essay “Third-World Literature in the Era of Multinational Capitalism”: “the kind of comparative work demanded by this concept of third-world literature involves comparison, not of the individual texts, which are formally and culturally very different from each other, but of the concrete situations from which such texts spring and to which they constitute distinct responses.” Jameson, Social Text 15 (1986): 86n5.

6 Robert Scholes and Clifford Wulfman, Modernism in the Magazines (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2010), 1.

7 Ezra Pound, “Small Magazines,” English Journal 19, no. 9 (1930): 689-704. In a letter to Pound dated April 28, 1930, they explained, “The English Journal is the professional magazine for the teachers of English in the United States. It is important not only that they know past literatures and that they know something about the technique of teaching, which is the main business of the magazine, but also that they be in touch with the temper of the present.” Box 15, folder 687, YCAL MSS 43, Ezra Pound Papers, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University Library, New Haven, Conn.

8 Both of them, in fact, issued programmatic statements on the subject. See T. S. Eliot, “The Idea of a Literary Review,” Criterion 4 (1926): 1-6; Antonio Gramsci, “Types of Periodicals,” in The Antonio Gramsci Reader: Selected Writings, 1916-1935, ed. David Forgacs (New York: Schocken Books, 1988), 384-90.

9 In thinking about the question of scale, I am indebted to Nirvana Tanoukhi’s “The Scale of World Literature,” New Literary History 39, no. 3 (2008): 599-617.

10 Even David Damrosch, when presenting his own provocative argument for world literature, concludes with a disavowal of its general application. “I have given you my world literature,” he writes in the final chapter, “or at least a crosssection of it, while recognizing that the world now presents us with material so varied as to call into question any logic of representation, any single framework that everyone should adopt and in which these particular works would all have a central role.” Damrosch, What Is World Literature? (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2003), 281 (emphasis added).

11 See Laura Doyle and Laura Winkiel, eds., Geomodernisms: Race, Modernism, Modernity (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2005); Andreas Huyssen, “Geographies of Modernism in a Globalizing World,” New German Critique 100 (2007): 189-207; Susan Stanford Friedman, “Musing Modernist Studies,” Modernism/Modernity 17, no. 3 (2010): 471-99.

12 But I can go into the reasons here: Not only is the kind of universality Pound is talking about based on Western ideas about literary value, but even more problematic would be the idea of what counts as literature in the first place. In addition, there is the added problem of a modernity that is separate and unequal and tied to a wide range of political realities, including the long history of colonialism and decolonization.

13 For James Wald, periodicity and the postal system go hand in hand: “Periodicity evolved in tandem with the rhythms and reach of the incipient postal services on which the inflow of information and distribution of publications depended.” Wald, “Periodicals and Periodicity,” in A Companion to the History of the Book, ed. Simon Eliot and Jonathan Rose (London: Blackwell, 2007), 423.

14 Even though members of the Respublica literarum used journals to circulate ideas, they were often frustrated by the slowness with which issues came out, using letters in between to communicate about the latest news. Though the letter was the dominant medium up until the end of the seventeenth century, the journal eventually did win out, in large part because it could keep a large number of readers up-to-date about the publication of books in “other cities.” Anne Goldgar, Impolite Learning: Conduct and Community in the Republic of Letters, 1680-1750 (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1995), 65.

15 About the importance of letters, Anthony Grafton, using a series of organic mixed metaphors, has this to say: “They constituted the fragile but vital canals that connected and animated intellectual commerce in the far flung parts of the republic. The strands of long-term correspondence formed a capillary system along which information could travel from papal Rome to Calvinist strongholds in the north, and vice-versa—so long as both had inhabitants, as they did, who wished to communicate. It is above all in the thousands of surviving letters—letters that combined the official and professional with the personal in a way that in the pre-modern world seemed entirely natural—that the outlines, highways and capitals of the Republic can be glimpsed most vividly.” Grafton, “A Sketch Map of a Lost Continent: The Republic of Letters,” Republics of Letters: A Journal for the Study of Knowledge, Politics, and the Arts 1, no. 1 (2009): 26-27.

16 By 1790, there were 3,494 journals in Germany alone. See Goldgar, Impolite Learning, 424.

17 Ezra Pound to Harriet Monroe, 7 November 1913, in The Letters of Ezra Pound, 1907-41, ed. D. D. Paige (New York: Harcourt Brace and World, 1950), 25. In a letter Pound wrote to Joyce on May 8, 1920 regarding his move from the Little Review to the Dial, he wrote, “It won’t be as much fun as the LR.; but it can afford more lire per page & pays in American. For which sordid reasons; and because the Mercure de France is really too gaga to be left the sole arbiter of weldlitteratur!!!” In Ezra Pound and James Joyce, Pound/Joyce: The Letters of Ezra Pound and James Joyce, with Pound’s Critical Essays and Articles about Joyce, ed. Forrest Read (New York: New Directions, 1970), 164.

18 See Stefan Hoesel-Uhlig, “Changing Fields: The Directions of Goethe’s Weltliteratur,” in Debating World Literature, ed. Christopher Prendergast (New York: Verso, 2004), 37.

19 Individual articles, of course, would circulate in translation, but it would be impossible to find, say, an English translation of Der Sturm or an Italian translation of Others.

20 When I was first beginning to think seriously about this project many years ago, I remember one critic at a conference who derided the whole idea of expanding the framework to include countries outside the Western orbit as if, like Dante’s Odysseus, we would be moving beyond the limits of the known, or even knowable, world into the vortex of our own folly. “Little magazines in Micronesia,” he scoffed. Yeah, and why not? Had the little magazine ever made it to Micronesia, then it would be perfectly legitimate to try and understand what, if anything, it had in common with modernisms elsewhere and, in the process, to explain just how it even ended up on an island so far out in the Pacific.

21 It is also necessary to mention that my focus is largely on literary communication, even though I also draw on examples from avant-garde movements in the first half of the century that anticipated the rise of artists’ magazines in the 1960s, ’70s, and ’80s. For a brilliant overview on the subject of conceptual artists’ magazines in North America, see Gwen Allen, Artists’ Magazines: An Alternative Space for Art (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2011). Inspired by Hoffman, Ulrich, and Allen’s Little Magazine: A History and Bibliography (1946) and Steven Clay and Rodney Phillips’s A Secret Location on the Lower East Side: Adventures in Writing, 1960-1980 (New York: New York Public Library / Granary Books, 1998); Allen also compiled a comprehensive index of titles from around the world.

22 Damrosch, What Is World Literature?; Franco Moretti, Graphs, Maps, Trees: Abstract Models for Literary History (New York: Verso, 2007); Moretti, “Conjectures on World Literature,” New Left Review (January-February 2000): 54-68; Moretti, “More Conjectures on World Literature,” New Left Review (March-April 2003): 73-81; Pascale Casanova, The World Republic of Letters, trans. M. B. DeBevoise (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2004); Gayatri Spivak, “The Stakes of a World Literature,” in An Aesthetic Education in the Era of Globalization (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2012); Emily Apter, Against World Literature: On the Politics of Untranslatability (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2013). A more comprehensive sampling of the many sides to this argument can be found in Prendergast, Debating World Literature; and Theo d’ Haen, César Domínguez, and Mads Rosendahl Thomsen, eds., World Literature: A Reader (New York: Routledge, 2012).

23 Fredric Jameson, “Interpretation and the World System,” paper presented at “The Way We Read Now: Symptomatic Reading and Its Aftermath” conference held at Columbia University, May 1-2, 2008.

24 Though the “circulation approach” is quite common in the world literature debates, I am responding here specifically to Susan Stanford Friedman, who describes it as a reading practice for “world modernism” that will involve “connection, linkage, networks, conjuncture, translation, transculturation.” Indeed, her diagnosis is sound, but again it fails to account for the centrality of media in this process and the effects of materiality on the way these linkages do and do not happen within networks that don’t work. Friedman, “World Modernisms, World Literature, and Comparativity,” in The Oxford Handbook of Global Modernisms, ed. Mark Wollaeger and Matt Eatough (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 511-16.

25 In using the term “friction,” I am thinking of Anna L. Tsing’s Friction: An Ethnography of Global Connection (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2004).

26 Raymond Williams, “When Was Modernism?,” in The Politics of Modernism: Against the New Conformists (New York: Verso, 1989), 34.

27 Malcolm Cowley, Exile’s Return: A Literary Odyssey of the 1920s (New York: Penguin Books, 1934), 96. Crates of the September 1922 issue of Broom arrived waterlogged from Italy; 750 copies (of what was likely 3,000 total) were too badly damaged to sell.

28 International literatur was another one published in Moscow between 1931 and 1945. By 1939, there were twenty-one German-language publications in the USSR.

29 For a historical overview of exile from Weimar Germany, see Jean-Michel Palmier, Weimar in Exile: The Anti-Fascist Emigration in Europe and America (New York: Verso, 2006).

30 Walter Benjamin to Gershom Scholem, 11 January 1940, in The Correspondence of Walter Benjamin, 1910-1940, ed. Gershom Scholem and Theodor W. Adorno, trans. Manfred R. Jacobson and Evelyn M. Jacobson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press), 623.

31 T. J. Demos, The Exiles of Marcel Duchamp (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2007), 42.

32 In Correspondence of Walter Benjamin, 539; David Pike, Lukács â Brecht (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985), 213. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproducibility,” which first appeared in an abbreviated French version in the Zeitschrift fur Sozialforschung in 1936, was another piece to undergo this process of acceptance and rejection, presumably because it was too lengthy and another article had already appeared on the same topic.

33 Walter Benjamin, Walter Benjamin: Selected Writings, ed. Howard Eiland and Michael Jennings, 2 vols. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2002), 2:339.

34 Kris Manjapra, “From Imperial to International Horizons: A Hermeneutic Study of Bengali Modernism,” Modern Intellectual History 8, no. 2 (2011): 327-59.

35 It should be added, however, that in the introduction, Puchner begins using the word “form” before replacing it with “genre”: “I argue that Marx had already invented a poetry of the future revolution, a form that would help revolutionary modernity to know itself, to arrive at itself, to make and to manifest itself, namely, the Communist Manifesto.” Martin Puchner, Poetry of the Revolution: Marx, Manifestoes, and the Avant-Garde (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2005), 1.

36 Notable exceptions would be George Bornstein, borrowing from Jerome Mc-Gann, on “bibliographic codes” in Material Modernism: The Politics of the Page (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 7; and Peter Brooker and Andrew Thacker on the concept of “periodical codes” in The Oxford Critical and Cultural History of Modernist Magazines, vol. 1, Britain and Ireland, 1880-1955 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 5-9.

37 Johanna Drucker, The Visible Word: Experimental Typography and Modern Art, 1909-1923 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 60; Allen, Artists’Magazines, 8.

38 I also have in mind here Roger Chartier’s use of the phrase “material forms” to describe a mode of critical analysis that unites the text and its discursive function with the object in which it originally appears. Chartier, “Representations of the Written Word,” in Forms and Meanings: Texts, Performances, and Audiences from Codex to Computer (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995), 6-24.

39 Matthew Kirschenbaum, Mechanisms: New Media and the Forensic Imagination (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2012); N. Katherine Hayles, Writing Machines (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002).

40 Claudia Salaris, Marinetti editore (Rome: Il Mulino, 1990), 265.

41 Already by 1708, Gisbert Cuper, a Classicist, was calling this new century “the century of Journals.” And it wasn’t long afterward that the editors of one journal, Journal litéraire, were calling it “the most advantageous thing talented men have ever invented for the Republic of Letters.” See Goldgar, Impolite Learning, 58.

42 For a recent discussion on the politics of literary form, see Caroline Levine’s Forms: Whole, Rhythm, Hierarchy, Network (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2015).

43 Edward Bishop, “Re-covering Modernism—Form and Function in the Little Magazines,” in Modernist Writers and the Marketplace, ed. Ian Willison, Warwick Gould, and Warren Chernaik (New York: St. Martin’s, 1996), 287-319.

44 Jason Harding argues that Eliot’s early selection (up until 1925) was compromised by his obligation to Lady Rothermere, the patron. See Harding, The Criterion: Cultural Politics and Periodical Networks in Inter-war Britain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 14.

45 Rajat Neogy, “Do Magazines Culture?” Transition 24 (1966): 32.

46 Friedrich A. Kittler, Gramophone, Film, Typewriter, trans. Geoffrey Winthrop-Young and Michael Wutz (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1999); Philip Gaskell, A New Introduction to Bibliography (Oxford, U.K.: Clarendon, 1972).

47 Bolter and Grusin, Remediation: Understanding New Media.

48 Andreas Huyssen, Miniature Metropolis: Literature in an Age of Photography and Film (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2015), 11.

49 Friedrich A. Kittler, Literature, Media, Information Systems (New York: Routledge, 1997), 29.

50 Though the twentieth century saw the arrival of music zines and artists’ magazines with flexidisc pages and comix magazines that fold out into game boards.

51 I arrived at this number by counting the Futurist magazines published within Italy between 1910 and 1944, though I’m certain that I’m missing some of the ones produced by regional Futurist groups and student organizations. If I included the magazines that published Futurist writers and texts but did not associate themselves exclusively with the movement, then the final number would be significantly higher. I have also excluded from my final tally the Futurist magazines published outside Italy. Claudia Salaris’s Riviste futuriste: Collezione Echaurren Salaris (Rome: Gli Ori, 2012) has been an invaluable resource for this process. I have compared her list against the titles included in Giovanni Lista’s Futurisme: Manifestes, documents, proclamations (Lausanne: L’Age d’Homme, 1973). Lista identifies only sixty-seven Futurist titles but factors in a number of hybrid magazines outside Italy (and often western Europe) and references a handful of non-Italian Futurist magazines, adding erroneously that “les revues officiellement futuristes de par le monde furent nombreuses” (20). I’m taking this estimate of Dada magazines from the “Repertorio delle riviste” compiled by Arturo Schwarz in his Almanacco Dada: Antologia letteraria-artistica (Milan: Feltrinelli, 1976). A more recent bibliography puts the number at ninety-one but without including dozens of titles from eastern and central Europe. See “Periodicals Associated with Dada,” in Exquisite Dada: A Comprehensive Bibliography, vol. 10 of Crisis in the Arts: A History of Dada, ed. Stephen Foster (New York: G. K. Hall, 2005), 5-11. In the introduction to the catalogue compiled for a massive collection of Dada and Surrealist magazines in 1978, David Sylvester writes, “But the dominant vehicle—dominant perhaps through being of its essence a vehicle simultaneously of individual and of collective utterance—was the magazine.” See Sylvester, introduction to Dada and Surrealism Reviewed, by Dawn Ades (London: Arts Council of Great Britain, 1978), 1.

52 Matthew Witkovsky, “Pen Pals,” in The Dada Seminars, ed. Leah Dickerman and Matthew S. Witkovsky (Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 2005), 270.

53 Raymond Williams, Keywords: Vocabulary of Culture and Society (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985). There is no entry for “Keyword.”

54 Theodor Adorno, Notes to Literature, trans. Shierry Weber Nicholsen, 2 vols. (1974; repr., New York: Columbia University Press, 1992), 2:26.

56 On this topic, see Pelle Snickars, “Against Search,” in A Companion to New Media Dynamics, ed. John Hartley, Jean Burgess, and Axel Bruns (Hoboken, N.J.: Wiley-Blackwell, 2013), 261-73; Lev Manovich, “Against Search,” Software Studies Initiative, July 21,2011, http://lab.softwarestudies.com/2011/07/against-search.xhtml.

57 Apter, Against World Literature, 176.

1 Oxford English Dictionary, “Network,” accessed May 5, 2016, http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/126342?rskey=2QcA86&result=1&isAdvanced=false#eid. The earliest known reference to network in the English language (spelled networke) can be found in the Tyndale Bible of 1530 and was eventually identified with rivers and canals (1839), railways (1869), electrical cables (1883), and wireless broadcasting (1914).

2 Julien Schuh, “Les revues littéraires et artistiques (1870-1940) perspectives méthodologiques et apports critiques,” http://prelia.hypotheses.org/94. Beatriz Colomina and Craig Buckley, eds., Clip, Stamp, Fold: The Radical Architecture of the Little Magazines, 196X-197X (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Architectural Press, 2011), 42.

3 Faith Binckes, Modernism, Magazines, and the British Avant-Garde: Reading "Rhythm,” 1910-1914 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), 170 (emphasis mine); Aránzazu Ascunce Arenas, Barcelona and Madrid: Social Networks of the Avant-Garde (Lewisburg, Penn.: Bucknell University Press, 2012), xxv; Eurie Dahn, “Cane in the Magazines: Race, Form, and Global Periodical Networks,” Journal of Modern Periodical Studies 3, no. 2 (November 2012): 121; Celia Aijmer Rydsjö and AnnKatrin Jonsson, “‘Published by Us, Written by Us, Read by Us’: Little Magazine Networks,” Global Review 1, no. 1 (2013): 39-65. Discussions of the network, of course, abound in other fields (economics, art history, sociology, urban planning, and media studies) and include influential works by Manuel Castells, Antonio Negri, Geert Lovink, Craig Saper, Lane Relyea, Jack Burnham, Lawrence Alloway, and Saskia Sassen.

4 The “Mapping the Republic of Letters” project at Stanford University has yielded some fascinating results about the distribution of Enlightenment ideas in and between England and the Continent through the exchange of letters. See http://republicofletters.stanford.edu/index.xhtml.

5 Richard So and Hoyt Long, “Network Analysis and the Sociology of Modernism,” boundary 2 40, no. 2 (2013): 145-82.

7 I’m building here on Bruno Latour’s idea that the entire concept of the network has been reinvigorated by the material infrastructure necessary for its digital capabilities: “if we accept talking about a network revolution, it is because the coincidence between the conceptual notion of network (action is radically redistributed) and the rematerialization allowed by digital technologies.” Latour, “Networks, Societies, Spheres: Reflections of an Actor-Network Theorist,” International Journal of Communication 5 (2011): 802.

8 Originally published as Henryk Berlewi, “Miedzynarodowa wystawa w Düsseldorfi’e,” Nasz kurier (August 2, 1922), translated by Wanda Kemp-Welch and reprinted in Between Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central European Avant-Gardes, 1910-1930, ed. Timothy Benson and Éva Forgács (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2002), 397-99.

9 “Although the notion of ‘network’ belongs more to the early twenty-first century than to the era of the classical avant-garde, it was not a completely alien idea to the avant-garde.” Hubert van den Berg, “The Early Twentieth Century Avant-Garde and the Nordic Countries: An Introduction tour d’horizon,” in A Cultural History of the Avant-Garde in the Nordic Countries, 1900-1925, ed. Hubert van den Berg (New York: Rodopi, 2013), 33.

10 Latour, “Networks, Societies, Spheres,” 802.

11 Kafka to Milena Jesenská, March 1922, in Letters to Milena, ed. Willi Hans, trans. Tania Stern and James Stern (New York: Schocken Books, 1953), 229.

12 Friedrich A. Kittler, Gramophone, Film, Typewriter, trans. Geoffrey Winthrop-Young and Michael Wutz (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1999).

13 Latour, “Networks, Societies, Spheres,” 799.

14 Arenas, Barcelona and Madrid, 26.

15 And a page in L’esprit nouveau reveals, in fact, that a copy of issue 1 of Mavo actually did land on Le Corbusier’s desk, and he even put a reproduction of it in his magazine’s “Documents curieux” section, complete with a caption identifying Mavo with the European avant-garde: “Deux revues japonaises qui s’occupent des arts avancés européens.” See “Les Documents Curieux,” L’esprit nouveau 28 (1925): 2369.

16 Susan Stanford Friedman, “World Modernisms, World Literature, and Comparativity,” in The Oxford Handbook of Global Modernisms, ed. Mark Wollaeger with Matt Eatough (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 515.

17 Pascale Casanova, World Republic of Letters, trans. M. B. DeBevoise (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2004), 338.

18 Laurent Jeanpierre argues that the little magazine, because of its simultaneous local, nation, and transnational configurations, further complicated by exile, emigration, and diaspora, makes the sociological analysis of a nation-based literary field à la Bourdieu particularly problematic. See Jeanpierre, “Revues modernistes et champs littéraires: Problèmes de frontières,” in Revues modernistes anglo-américaines: Lieux d’échanges, lieux d’exil, ed. Benoît Tadié (Paris: Ent’revues, 2006), 157-76.

19 For a fascinating account of the way tariff and copyright shaped transatlantic modernism, see Robert Spoo, Without Copyrights: Piracy, Publishing, and the Public Domain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013).

20 Bungei jidai was the magazine of the New Sensationalist School (1924-1930), often identified with a distinctly Japanese form of modernism.

21 Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis, Minn.: University of Minnesota Press, 2003), 3-25.

22 Alexander R. Galloway, Protocol: How Control Exists after Decentralization (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2006), 11. Gwen Allen recognizes a similar pattern with the global network of artists’ magazines that emerged in the second half of the twentieth century: “Artists’ magazines demonstrate that artistic did not proceed in a linear manner from center (New York) to periphery, spreading around the globe in a single homogeneous movement, but emerged unevenly and unexpectedly in different places and times, opening onto surprising constellations of artistic influences that go against the grain of teleological history and challenge the dominant logic of globalization.” Allen, Artists’ Magazines: An Alternative Space for Art (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2011), 205.

23 Alexander Galloway and Eugene Thacker, The Exploit: A Theory of Networks (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2007), 29.

24 Galloway, Protocol, 30.

25 See William Owen, Modern Magazine Design (Dubuque, Iowa: Wm. C. Brown, 1992), 22.

26 Takahashi Shinkichi, Takahashi Shinkichi zenshū, vol. 4 (Tokyo: Seido sha, 1982), 181, quoted in Hosea Hirata, The Poetry and Poetics of Nishiwaki Junzaburō: Modernism in Translation (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1993), 135.

27 Hannah Higgins, The Grid Book (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2009).

28 Rosalind Krauss, “Grids,” October 9 (Summer 1979): 50-64.

29 Richard Hollis argues that 1923 was the year when the influence of De Stijl was being felt most poignantly by the Bauhaus movement, noting that the poster for its exhibition that same year contained the “geometric lettering” of Van Doesburg with a prospectus that “follows Mondrian’s grid of black lines.” Hollis, Graphic Design: A Concise History (London: Thames and Hudson, 1994), 69.

30 Experiments with Mail Art in the second half of the century represent another stage in the development of the avant-garde print network. See Geza Perneczk, Assembling Magazines (Budapest: Arnyekkotok, 2007); Craig Saper, Networked Art (Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press, 2001); Chuck Welch, Eternal Network: A Mail Art Anthology (Calgary, Alberta: University of Calgary Press, 1994).

31 For an overview of Japanese print and book history, see Peter Kornicki, The Book in Japan: A Cultural History from the Beginnings to the Nineteenth Century (London: Brill, 1998).

32 “By the 1920s, improved printing technology made mass-produced cheap books and magazines possible for even the lower classes.” Andrew Kamei-Dyche, “The History of Books and Print Culture in Japan: The State of the Discipline,” Book History 14 (2011): 277. See also Toshiharu Omuka, “Futurism in Japan, 1910-1920,” in International Futurism in Arts and Literature, ed. Günter Berghaus (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2000), 244-70.

33 James Morita, “Garakuta Bunko,” Monumenta nipponica 24, no. 3 (1969): 220.

34 See William Tyler, ed., Modanizumu: Modernist Fiction from Japan, 1913-1938 (Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2008); Hirata, Poetry and Poetics of Nishiwaki Junzaburō; Donald Keene, “Modernism and Foreign Influences,” in Dawn to the West (New York: Holt, 1993), 629-719.

35 For a broad overview of the avant-garde in Japan, see Vera Linhartova, “Manifestes et reflexions 1910-1941,” and Tsuruoka Yoshihsa, “Au coeur de l’avantgarde littéraire: La poésie entre 1910 et 1939,” both in Japon des avant-gardes, 1910-1970 (Paris: Éditions du Centre Pompidou, 1986).

36 Funahashi Seiichi, “Diving,” Kōdō (October 1934), trans. William Tyler, in Modanizumu, 511.

37 Suzuki Sadami, “Nihon no ‘bungaku’ gainen,” 242-43, quoted in Seiji M. Lippit, Topographies of Japanese Modernism (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002), 11.

38 Keene, Dawn to the West, 441-505.

39 Quoted in Keene, Dawn to the West, 449.

40 News about Italian Futurism had been arriving in Japan from 1909, when a translation of the first manifesto was published in Subaru. See Omuka, “Futurism in Japan,” 244-70. Keene argues that this postwar flood of avant-garde examples “precipitated a flood of bewildering and often incomprehensible poetry” (Dawn to the West, 630). Also see Gregory Kasza, The State and Mass Media in Japan, 1918-1945 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988).

41 There was no physical destruction in Japan during the war, but it did experience a postwar economic depression.

42 Lippit, Topographies of Japanese Modernism, 23.

44 Akita Ujaku: “I believe that the expressionist style, which had emerged in Europe following the Great War, was accepted by the literary and dramatic circles of Japan following the earthquake because of certain social similarities in that Japanese capitalism, in the face of crisis, had turned violent” (quoted in ibid., 238n79).

45 “Postwar Europe, skeptical and bewildered, is cultivating a shrieking, bellowing language; one must keep up with everything. Words like ‘attraction’ and ‘trick’ are becoming catchwords of the time. The appearance of the book is characterized by: 1) fragmented type panel 2) photomontage and typomontage.” El Lissitzky, “Our Book,” in Looking Closer 3: Classic Writings on Graphic Design, ed. Michael Bierut, Jessica Helfand, Steven Heller, William Drenttel, and Rick Poynor (New York: Allworth, 1999), 329. Owen focuses more on mechanization and less on technique: “The modern magazine grew directly out of the invention of photographic reproduction and the automation of printing. The new technologies were assimilated through experiment in original forms of typography and spatial composition, and so contemporary magazine design evolved largely according to the new aesthetic developed in Germany, Russia, and the Netherlands immediately after the First World War” (Modern Magazine Design, 13).

46 Quoted in Hirata, Poetry and Poetics of Nishiwaki Junzaburō, 136.

47 “By the 1920s, improved printing technology made mass-produced cheap books and magazines possible for even the lower classes” (Kamei-Dyche, “History of Books and Print Culture in Japan,” 277). See also Omuka, “Futurism in Japan.”

48 More specifically, he received copies of Merz no. 8/9 from Lissitzky and De Stijl no. 2 from Theo van Doesburg. See Gennifer Weisenfeld, Mavo: Japanese Artists and the Avant-Garde, 1905-1931 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 307n69. Surrealism didn’t arrive in Japan until 1925, when translations of Louis Aragon, Paul Éluard, and André Breton began appearing in magazines like Shi to shiron. See Japon des avant-gardes 1910-1970, 157. In Dada au Japon, Marc Dachy points out that Murayama’s knowledge of Constructivism came primarily from Ma, Broom, Merz, and De Stijl. Dachy, Dada au Japon (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2002), 106. For a discussion of the Constructivist influence on Mavo, see Gennifer Weisenfeld, “Mavo’s Conscious Constructivism: Art, Individualism, and Daily Life in Interwar Japan,” Art Journal 55, no. 3 (1996): 64-73.

49 Weisenfeld, Mavo, 88.

50 On the cover of issue 3 were tags, human hair, product labels, and a firecracker, the latter removed by censors. This incident led to the withdrawal of Mavo’s sponsors, putting the movement into dismal financial straits and significantly shortening the life of the magazine.

51 Dachy, Dada au Japon, 65, 105.

52 Ezra Pound, “Tagore’s Poems,” Poetry 1 (December 1912): 92-94. For an account of the relationship between the two, see Harold M. Hurwitz, “Ezra Pound and Rabindranath Tagore,” American Literature 36, no. 1 (1964): 53-63.

53 Pound, Rev. of “‘Certain Noble Plays of Japan,’ and ‘Noh’ or ‘Accomplishment,’” Little Review 4, no. 4 (August 1917): 8.

54 About the arrival of a Western modernism in India, especially in regard to T. S. Eliot’s impact on Hindi poetry, Harish Trivedi writes, “Indeed, there is strong historical evidence to support the view that in Hindi, the Western Modernism of the 1910s and the 1920s, and the Western Progressivism of the 1930s, both arrived more or less together and had a simultaneous and initially even coextensive impact on poets beginning to write in the late 1930s or the early 1940s.” Trivedi, Colonial Transactions (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993), 73. About the impact of this arrival on the standards of literary criticism in India left over from the previous century, Sisir Kumar Das writes, “The imitations of British modernists had one salutary effect: the new poetry that was born with Eliot and his contemporaries came as a challenge to the ideals considered by the English educated Indians—those ideals were also derived from the English poetic tradition—as the pinnacle of poetic achievement. It was a borrowed experience, nonetheless it gave a courage for experimentations…. The various movement from the mid-twenties till the Independence of the country created an urge for the new: it was partly imposed from outside, but it also came from within.” Sisir Kumar Das, A History of Indian Literature, 19111956 (New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 1995), 229.

55 See Tapobrata Ghosh, “Literature and Literary Life in Calcutta,” in Calcutta: The Living City, 2 vols., ed. Sukanta Chaudhuri (Calcutta: Oxford University Press India, 1990), 2:230.

56 “Though Western stimuli are important in each phase, even more important is the fact that the writers negotiate with foreign influences on their own terms and for their own purposes…. And new technology is as important as new ideas are, the printing-press generating the culture of magazines and printed polemics.” Ketaki Kushari Dyson, “India,” in Encyclopedia of Literary Modernism, ed. Paul Poplawski (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood, 2003), 197.

57 The first printing press in India, which was stolen from the French, arrived in 1761, and the first newspaper appeared in Calcutta in 1780. David Finkelstein, “The Globalization of the Book, 1800-1970,” in A Companion to the History of the Book, ed. Simon Eliot and Jonathan Rose (Hoboken, N.J.: Wiley-Blackwell, 2007), 329-40. See Vinay Dharwadker, “Print Culture and Literary Markets in Colonial India,” in Language Machines: Technologies of Literacy and Cultural Production, ed. Jeffrey Masten, Peter Stallybrass, and Nancy J. Vickers (New York: Psychology Press, 1997), 108-33.

58 The Vernacular Press Act of 1878 was the most ambitious, requiring that proofs had to be submitted for approval before publication. Within a few years, it was repealed, but the effects on the desire for an independent press were long lasting.

59 Tapti Roy, “Disciplining the Printed Test: Colonial and Nationalist Surveillance of Bengali Literature,” in Texts of Power: Emerging Disciplines in Colonial Bengal, ed. Partha Chatterjee (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1995), 30.

61 Sri Aurobindo’s Aryā (1914-1921) and Pramatha Chaudhuri’s Sabujpatra (19141927) are precursors.

62 Trivedi, Colonial Transactions, 53.

63 G. S. Ghurye, “Cities of India,” Sociological Bulletin 2 (1953): 305.

64 Quoted in Dipesh Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2007), 157.

65 Pramatha Chaudhuri, “Kathā-Sāhitye Rabindranāth,” Kallol (1926): 293, quoted in Kris Manjapra, “From Imperial to International Horizons: A Hermeneutic Study of Bengali Modernism,” Modern Intellectual History 8, no. 2 (2011): 327-59.

66 Manjapra, “From Imperial to International Horizons,” 345.

67 George Brecht to George Maciunas, letter [early 1963], Maciunas’s personal microfilm no. 1/109, Collection Archiv Sohm, Staatsgalerie, Stuttgart, Germany. Quoted in Owen F. Smith, “Fluxus Praxis: An Exploration of Connections, Creativity, and Community,” in At a Distance: Precursors to Art and Activism on the Internet, ed. Annmarie Chandler and Norie Neumark (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2006), 132.

68 Ulises Mejias, “Tyranny of Nodes: Towards a Critique of Social Network Theories,” Ulises Mejias’s blog, October 9, 2006, http://blog.ulisesmejias.com/2006/10/09/the-tyranny-of-nodes-towards-a-critique-of-social-network-theories/.

1 Ezra Pound to Harriet Monroe, 7 November 1912, in The Letters of Ezra Pound, 1907-41, ed. D. D. Paige (New York: Harcourt Brace and World, 1950), 24.

2 See Hugh Witemeyer, “Modernism and the Transatlantic Connection,” in A Companion to Twentieth Century Poetry, ed. Neil Roberts (New York: Blackwell, 2003), 8.

3 This particular articulation is taken from Alan Golding, “The Dial, The Little Review, and the Dialogics of Modernism,” in Little Magazines and Modernism: New Approaches, ed. Suzanne Churchill and Adam McKible (Burlington, Vt.: Ashgate, 2007), 77.

4 Ezra Pound to Margaret Anderson, London, March 29, 1917, in Pound/The Little Review: The Letters of Ezra Pound to Margaret Anderson, ed. Thomas Scott and Melvin Friedman (New York: New Directions, 1988), 21-22.

5 A letter from the chief postal censor dated October 30, 1918 reveals that Pound was “granted permission to dispatch by post copies of The Little Review to all foreign countries.” YCAL MSS 43, Ezra Pound Papers, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University Library, New Haven, Conn. (hereafter cited as Beinecke).

6 A letter from Samuel Craig to Scofield Thayer on December 22, 1921 reveals that domestic mail wasn’t much better: “I do not know how postal conditions are in Europe, but in this country they seem to be in the worst condition they have been in for years. The Dial has recently had an unreasonable number of complaints from subscribers regarding non-receipt of copies…. I find that other publishers are having the same trouble with the post office and that literally hundreds of copies are being lost through carelessness in transit.” Box 30, folder 777, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke.

7 Thayer to Seldes, Vienna, 20 May 1922, Box 40, folder 1144, ibid.

8 Seldes to Thayer, 7 November 1922, Box 41, folder 1156, ibid.

9 In the end, Thayer didn’t care what the reasons were: “I can imagine no excuse short of death upon the part of the whole of the New York Staff which could at all make pardonable the shortage of November Dials.” Thayer to Samuel Craig, 4 January 1923, Box 30, folder 779, ibid. It turns out that T. S. Eliot was behind it all. On November 27, 1922, he informed Thayer that friends of his “who order The Dial regularly from a London bookseller were unable to get a November number, and were actually informed by the bookseller that ‘The Dial’ had collapsed and ceased publication.” Less than a month later (December 18), he added, “I have not myself received a copy of the December number which I imagine appears on the 25th of November.” In Letters of T. S. Eliot, 1898-1922, vol. 1, ed. Valerie Eliot (London: Faber and Faber, 1988): 602, 614.

10 Thayer to Samuel Craig, 25 June 1923, Box 30, folder 780, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/ Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke. “My own experience and the experience of other Americans now living in Central Europe makes it absolutely certain that the fact I have my Dials sent by way of London could never cause them to take more time than Dials sent directly to Central Europe. Indeed I have my mail come by London since it has been proved in this way I receive it more quickly. The mail which is addressed to Germany and Austria goes by slow ships. Mail which goes by London goes on the Mauretania and Aquitania.”

11 Craig to Thayer, 1 March 1923, Box 30, folder 779, ibid.

12 Scofield Thayer to James Sibley Watson on February 8, 1923: “P.S. Would you be so good as to have Craig write me the facts in regard to our English circulation, i.e. the number of English subscribers, number of copies sent for bookstall sale to England, and to whom sent.” Box 44, folder 1262, ibid.

13 It does appear, though, that after finding out about these British accounts, Thayer was at least open to the idea: “Thank you for your letter in regard to the English sales.” On March 19, 1923, he wrote Craig, “I do hope you can collect those bills owing us. I do approve of having there some office for two or three magazines together provided you can interest the proper magazines.” Box 30, folder 779, ibid.

14 In Institutions of Modernism: Literary Elites and Public Culture (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1999), Lawrence Rainey claims that the total circulation was 9,500 for 1922 (98), but a yearly report from Craig written in February 1923, which adds a subscription gain of 1,066 since the beginning of January 1923, indicates that it was closer to 12,000: “At the end of December, The Dial’s net paid circulation was 6,374. Since the first of the year we have gained 1,066, which gives us today a net paid mail circulation of 7,440. In addition to our mail circulation, we now have a newsstand sale that is varying between four and five thousand copies per month. Our total net paid circulation then, is about 11,940.” Box 30, folder 779, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke.

15 National distribution, it turns out, was already difficult enough. In Craig’s yearly circulation report for 1921, he informed Thayer that the major U.S. cities were getting copies but not the smaller ones: “Our distribution for February calls for 2500 copies to New York City stands. Similarly, we are concentrating copies in Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, Washington, San Francisco, and Los Angeles, and cutting in cities like Buffalo, Detroit, Cleveland, etc., where we have not yet any promotion work. As we build up a concentrated sale in the cities employing promotions men, we will try and branch out and include more and more cities until we have a real national distribution.” Craig to Thayer, 27 January 1922, Box 30, folder 778, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke.

16 Jahan Ramazani, A Transnational Poetics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009), 85.

17 Pound also toyed with a few other options, including “The Male Review” (too misogynistic), “The Vortex” (too close to a Vorticism already on the wane), “The Hammer” (too revolutionary), “The Alliance” (too boring), “The Four Cities Review” (would require finding another city), and “The Three Nations Monthly Review” (the one he liked second best). Pound to Quinn, in The Selected Letters of Ezra Pound to John Quinn, 1915-1924, ed. Timothy Materer (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1991), 40, 71.

18 On September 7, 1915, Pound wrote to Quinn with the “formula” for a self-supporting magazine: “It is a sort of formula here that the first 1,000 subscribers pay for the printer’s bill the second 1000 pays for the contents (at minimum rates). Anything over that goes to increase of rates of payment and general enrichment of the paper.” Box 33, folder 2, MssCol2513, New York Public Library (hereafter NYPL). Two years later, when acting as foreign correspondent for the Little Review, he wrote, “At any rate if people want a good thing, an American ‘Mercure de France,’ or ‘English Review’ as it originally was, I think they are going to have a chance to get it. I think the promised increase to 48 pages, then the proposed increase to 64 are the first steps. Then should come 16 more pages for chronicles or ‘rubrics,’ the part corresponding to the back part of the ‘Mercure,’ brief reports of books published everywhere. Each country with its own section, some appearing monthly some every two, three or four months…. I believe I can get better staff than the ‘Mercure’ has at present, or has had (with the exception of De Gourmont) for some time. Unless everyone is killed off.” Pound to Quinn, 18 June 1917, in Selected Letters of Ezra Pound to John Quinn, 122-123. ibid.

19 Pound to Quinn, 8 September 1916, 44-52. ibid.

20 Pound to Quinn, 10 October 1918, Box 34, folder 2, MssCol 2513, NYPL. In that same letter, he also suspects that it will help him after the war when he moves to Paris: “L.R. will have been useful IF I ever get to France. NOT practical cash use, but will make my relations perhaps pleasanter with a decade of french writers (who are, I am afraid, about played out).”

21 This “Study” was based on his original essays on many of the same poets for A. R. Orage’s New Age.

22 Ezra Pound, “A Study of French Modern Poets,” The Little Review 4, no. 10 (Feb. 1918): 10, 20, 38.

23 Pound to Anderson, 13 September 1917, in Pound/The Little Review, 122. See John G. Nichols, “Ezra Pound’s Poetic Anthologies and the Architecture of Reading,” PMLA 121, no. 1 (2006): 170-85.

24 Pound to Anderson, October 9, 10, 11, 1917, in Pound/The Little Review, 134.

25 In Without Copyrights, Robert Spoo argues that Pound was also using American magazine publication to “hold down” copyrights for foreign authors. Spoo, Without Copyrights: Piracy, Publishing, and the Public Domain (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 93-94, 97-103.

26 Ezra Pound, “Tariff and Copyright,” Little Review (November 1918), 21. A few years earlier, in a letter to Theodore Roosevelt, he put it another way: “What I want to know is HOW THE HELL you expect or expected a bunch of hoosiers to know that you are and were right about the war etc. etc. etc. WHEN neither you nor any of the agricultural heads of the republic have ever done one stroke towards getting the tariff off BOOKS??!!!…How the hell you expect the damn country to get educated when you carefully keep it from learning what the world thinks, and shelter it from everything save carefully peptomized flattery (foreign criticism watered down to Arnold Bennet’ [sic] slither.)!!!!!” Pound to Theodore Roosevelt, c/o John Quinn, 5 October 1916, Box 33, folder 2, MssCol 2513, NYPL.

27 Robert Spoo, “The Law,” in Ezra Pound in Context, ed. Ira Nadel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 128. For a more extended discussion of this issue, see Spoo, Without Copyrights, 65-115.

28 “Unlike previous law,” Spoo contends, “the 1909 act allowed foreign works in foreign languages to gain copyright protection without being manufactured in America. Because foreign-language books would have only a limited readership in the United States, it was reasoned, book artisans would suffer no appreciable loss” (Without Copyrights, 68).

29 In a letter Pound wrote to Quinn dated August 26, 1915, when discussing his idea to print a little magazine in England, he writes, “I dont [sic] know the exact state of American tariff or copyright,” adding, “It might be cheaper to print in New York and import copies for England (as there is no import tax on this end). Tho [sic] this would cause some delay. stuff would be 2 or 3 weeks old in London & no newer in n.y. but there are other considerations.” In Selected Letters of Ezra Pound to John Quinn, 40-41.

30 Pound even entertained the idea that Knopf could take the “standing type” from the Little Review to use in the production of a “booklet.” This might also save the Little Review some money in the process. Pound to Quinn, 4 October 1917, Box 33, folder 6, MssCol 2513, NYPL. A week later, he began to doubt his suggestion: “I was probably wrong in suggesting that Knopf should take on steroes [sic] of it in anticipation for larger vol. of French studies. [handwritten: “still that’s for him to consider”] Flint’s French number in Harold Monro’s magazine a few years ago was a good seller, and kept up the value of the bound vol. I have written fully to Miss A. saying price of number should be 25. cents, and rise to 50. and probably 75. [handwritten: “It certainly has more in it thank Lowell at 448 pages around $2.50”]. I have already sold a few back numbers at 1/6 and 2/ shillings.” Pound to Quinn, 12 October 1917, ibid.

31 Pound to Quinn, 8 November 1920, in Selected Letters of Ezra Pound to John Quinn, 202-3.

32 Quoted in B. L. Reid, The Man from New York: John Quinn and His Friends (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1969), 443.

33 When Ulysses was eventually printed in 1922, Sylvia Beach wrote to Quinn asking for advice about bringing copies into the United States following the prosecution of the Little Review. “If this was an ordinary commercial book,” Quinn replied on March 27, 1922, “I would not bother to make these suggestions. But the prosecution of the Little Review has been so widely advertised and there has been so much talk in the papers lately about ‘Ulysses’ that it is almost certain that Sumner will try to prevent its importation. Then too, the size and format of the book makes it a noticeable thing in the mails and the customs and increases the chance of its being seized pursuant to orders.” Box 24, folder 3, MssCol 2513, NYPL.

34 Pound, outlining his plan to Quinn, explained, “Also, if there is any further prohibition re/sending periodicals across the atlantic, some of the stuff can appear in both papers simultaneously for the duration of the war at least. So long as the authors are paid something for the copy in the first place, the rest is a mere matter of expediency.” Pound to Quinn, 26 March 1917, Box 33, folder 3, ibid.

35 Pound to Quinn, 15 May 1917, in Selected Letters of Ezra Pound to John Quinn, 112.

36 Joyce to Pound on 9 April 1917: “As regards excerpts from Ulysses, the only thing I could send would be the Hamlet chapter or part of it—which however would suffer by excision.” In Ezra Pound and James Joyce, Pound/Joyce: The Letters of Ezra Pound and James Joyce, with Pound’s Critical Essays and Articles about Joyce, ed. Forrest Read (New York: New Directions, 1970), 105.

37 Only “Nestor,” “Hades,” “Proteus” (with deletions), and first third of “Wandering Rocks” appeared in the Egoist.

38 I discuss the impact of serialization on the length of Ulysses more extensively in “Ulysses by Numbers,” Representations 127, no. 1 (2014): 1-32.

39 Pound to Joyce, 22 November 1918, in Pound/Joyce, 146.

40 “Nausikaa” is actually set between 8 and 9 P.M., and the day ends with “Penelope,” not “Circe.”

41 Pound to Joyce, 17 and 19 January 1914, in Pound/Joyce, 24.

42 The typescript for the episodes printed in the Little Review have not survived (with the exception of “Oxen of the Sun” beginning at page 10). My suspicion that Pound was in charge of the interrupting (and not Anderson, heap, or the printer) is based on the editorial role that he played throughout the entire serialization process when he received the typescript from Joyce directly. In the first exchange with Joyce regarding the typescript for “Telemachus,” which I discuss in the pages that follow, he thought Joyce had sent the first three installments and therefore recommended places where it could be divided accordingly. In an unpublished letter not long after “Telemachus” was published, he informs Anderson, “Another chunk of Joyce has come so you can print all the lot I have sent in one no.” Pound to Anderson, 1 January 1918, Box 3, folder 2, Little Review Records, 1914-64, University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee). For a handful of other episodes, we know that he left notes for Anderson about passages and phrases that should be excised, and I suspect that among them would have been places to break up individual episodes into multiple installments. The absence of material evidence makes this conjectural, but, as I explain in this chapter, I think that the places in which these episodes were divided would only have been possible from someone who knew the book intimately. In The Little Review “Ulysses" (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2015), Mark Gaipa, Sean Latham, and Robert Scholes have argued, to the contrary, that Anderson and heap are behind it all, including the “parodic interpolations” of “Cyclops,” but they have not offered any evidence to support this claim (413).

43 Pound/Joyce: The Letters of Ezra Pound to James Joyce, ed. Forrest Read, 19 December 1917 (New York: New Directions, 1967), 129.

44 Gaipa, Latham, and Scholes suggest that the length, fifteen hundred words above the average, could have been the reason for this division. “The Magazine Context for The Little Review “Ulysses,” in Little Review “Ulysses,” 402.

45 Pound to Joyce, 2 June 1920, Pound/Joyce, 173.

46 Pound to Quinn, 31 October 1920, in Selected Letters of Ezra Pound to John Quinn, 198.

47 In Letters of T. S. Eliot, 1:643.

48 Eliot to Quinn, 21 September 1922, Box 11, folder 2, MssCol 2513, NYPL.

49 Robert, Spoo, personal correspondence, 1 July 2014.

50 Rainey, Institutions of Modernism, 104-6.

51 Ibid., 91. In a letter to Quinn a month before The Waste Land appeared, Eliot described his reservations about the Little Review: “I think that the trouble with the ‘Little Review’ at its best was that its second rate stuff was so appallingly bad; and my theory is that the best of the most advanced writing of our time (which of course means a very small number of writers) will really appear to better advantage among the really respectable and serious writers of the older type than among their own third rate and vulgar imitators.” Eliot to Quinn, 21 September 1922, Box 11, folder 2, MssCol 2513, NYPL.

52 Rainey, Institutions of Modernism, 91.

53 This agreement on simultaneous publication was reached some time around mid-August 1922. Watson to Thayer on August 19, 1922: “Got a letter from Eliot regretting his haste in thinking we were trying to rob him, and offering us the right of publishing his poem simultaneously with its pub. in the Criterion.” Box 44, folder 1260, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke.

54 I’m adapting a statement made by Michael Levenson, who reads Eliot’s Criterion as a seminal moment in the history of modernism, even more so than the publication of The Waste Land and Ulysses, because it gave Eliot the space, financial stability, and pedigree to institutionalize a movement once known for its experimentalism and irreverence. See Levenson, A Genealogy of Modernism: A Study of English Literary Doctrine, 1908-1922 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 213.

55 The feeling was mutual. The Criterion, in Thayer’s estimation, was a “cowed-looking journal.” Unlike Eliot, he does not elaborate further or offer any advice for improvement. 27 May 1923, Box 44, folder 1261, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke. I suspect that Thayer is commenting on an appearance that was, as Eliot explained in a letter to T. Sturge Moore, “simple and severe” and without illustrations. 3 April 1922, in The Letters of T. S. Eliot, vol. 1: 1898-1922, ed. Valerie Eliot (London: Faber and Faber, 1988), 518.

56 T. S. Eliot to John Quinn, 26 March 1920, ibid., 377. This is how Harold Child saw it in a review of the first issue printed in the Times Literary Supplement: “What literary school, then, does this new quarterly represent? It is a school that includes Saintsbury, Sturge Moore, and T. S. Eliot. There is no such school, obviously. It becomes apparent that the only school represented is the school of those who are genuinely interested in good literature.” Child, “Periodicals,” Times Literary Supplement (October 26, 1922): 690.

57 In an earlier letter to Quinn, he singles out the London Mercury, a magazine he still finds “despicable,” as a positive example of solid “appearance” and “arrangement.” 26 March 1920, in Letters of T. S. Eliot, 378.

58 Eliot to Quinn, 21 September 1922, ibid., 573.

59 This number, considering the limited print runs of between six hundred and eight hundred, would be small indeed.

60 Eliot to Quinn, 9 May 1921, in Letters of T. S. Eliot, 452.

61 Thayer to Watson, James Sibley Watson/The Dial Papers, Berg Collection of American and English Literature, NYPL. In the Dial’s New York office, it also kept on file “General Instructions for Editorial Department” explaining how the “Format” of the magazine was made to follow the “prescribed custom” and could not be changed without the “O.K.” of the editor. James Sibley/The Dial Papers, “Series VII, Papers Related to James Sibley Watson,” b. 28.

62 See Anne-Rachel Hermetet, “The Criterion et les littératures européennes 1922-1925,” in Revues modernistes anglo-américaines: Lieux d’échanges, lieux d’exil, ed. Benoît Tadié (Paris: Ent’revues, 2006), 189-200.

63 T. S. Eliot, “The Idea of a Literary Review,” New Criterion 4 (1926): 3.

65 Eliot to Thayer, 27 November 1922, in Letters of T. S. Eliot, 602.

66 In the Thayer Papers at the Beinecke, there is a “Plan for Cooperative Organization of Magazines” intended for up to ten magazines based in New York City. It outlines the benefits of this co-op, including the increase of advertising revenue, the reduction of selling costs by cutting down on the staff of individual magazines, the procurement of more experienced representatives, the reduction of bad accounts (paying particular attention to credits), and the ability to analyze group circulation in order to locate the weak points. Box 30, folder 779, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke.

67 In order to distribute content and help secure U.S. copyright for non-U.S. authors, Pound urged Eliot to consider a transatlantic cooperative between the Criterion and Samuel Roth’s less high-minded Two Worlds Monthly, which ended up pirating Ulysses. See Spoo, Without Copyrights, 175-76.

68 Thayer to Watson, 31 March 1923, Box 44, folder 1261, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke.

69 Watson to Thayer, 10 May 1923, ibid.

70 Thayer to Eliot, 25 May 1923, Box 31, folder 811, ibid. To Watson, he reported, “I trust I have done rightly in writing Eliot today that we both agree and regret that our financial obligations don’t allow us to undertake further branching outs except in such cases as may recommend themselves to our pocketbook.” 27 May 1923, Box 44, folder 1261, ibid.

71 In a letter to Eliot on September 7, 1922, Quinn uses “serialization” to describe the arrangement: “You will notice that by paragraph II of the supplemental contract Liveright agrees that any payment by The Dial for serial publication shall be made to you and the publisher waives any interest or claim therein.” Box 11, folder 3, MssCol 2513, NYPL. When first approaching Thayer with The Waste Land, Eliot recommended that “it could easily divide to go into 4 issues.” 20 January 1922, in Letters of T. S. Eliot, 502.

72 Rainey, Institutions of Modernism, 78.

73 Levenson, Genealogy of Modernism, 213.

74 William Carlos Williams complained that The Waste Land “wiped out our world as if an atom bomb had been dropped on it.” Williams, The Autobiography of William Carlos Williams (New York: New Directions, 1964), 174.

75 In fact, as a courtesy to Boni and Liveright and the Dial, Eliot planned to stall the distribution of sample copies to American bookstores and agencies. Eliot to Quinn, 21 September 1922, in Letters of T. S. Eliot, vol. 1, 572.

76 Lawrence Rainey, The Annotated Waste Land with Eliot’s Contemporary Prose (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2006), 47.

77 Quoted in Bernard Poli, Ford Madox Ford and the “Transatlantic Review" (Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1967), 37.

78 T. S. Eliot, transatlantic review 1, no. 1 (January 1924), 95.

79 Ford, in Paris, explained to his daughter Katherine, in London, on 29 January 1924: “I am sending you another copy of No. 1 as well as No. ii. I expect when you tried to get it at D’uths [Duckworth’s] No. 1 was not yet published in England. N o. ii won’t be out until 7th February though it’s out here already: but I have to publish earlier here on account of copyright troubles in the U.S.A.” Quoted in Poli, Ford Madox Ford and the “Transatlantic Review,” 63n34. Ford is confused here about how U.S. copyright works. The chances of securing copyright in the United States would be jeopardized by prior publication in Europe. He seems not to have learned any lessons from Ulysses, a book that famously lost U.S. copyright by not following the ad interim and manufacturing provisions after getting printed in France first. Thanks to Robert Spoo for clarification on this matter.

80 Poli, Ford Madox Ford and the “Transatlantic Review,” 93.

81 See Andrzej Gasiorek, “The Exiles: the transatlantic review (1924) and The Exile (1927-28),” in Andrew Thacker and Peter Brooker, eds., The Oxford Critical and Cultural History of Modernist Magazines, vol. 2, North America, 1894-1960 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 697-717. See also Stephen Roger, “The transatlantic review 1924,” and Andrzej Gasoriek, “Editing the transatlantic review: Literary Magazines and the Public Sphere,” in Ford Madox Ford, Modernist Magazines, and Editing, ed. Jason Harding (New York: Rodopi, 2010).

82 “Alas the transatlantic review,” wrote to Douglas Goldring, “will be the old English Review all over again.” Quoted in Max Saunders, Ford Madox Ford: A Dual Life, vol. 2, The After-War World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 141.

83 “The Mercure de France resonated with Ford’s ‘myth of the whole’ about French culture and served as a model for his literary aspirations in the English Review. However, the Mercure could not be directly transplanted to English soil.” Mark Morrison, The Public Face of Modernism: Little Magazines, Audiences, and Reception, 1905-1920 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2000), 39.

85 Over the years, Pound came up with two different explanations for the transatlantic review’s demise: failure of bookstores in America to pay up (“it was reported in Paris that the transatlantic ceased because the payment never came for copies ‘sold’ in America”) and the absence of good writing (“Fordie started ‘transatlantic review’ at a time when there wasn’t the stuff to fill it”). See Ezra Pound, “Small Magazines,” English Journal 19, no. 9 (1930): 699; Pound to Margaret Anderson, 15 July 1953, in Pound/Little Review, 308.

86 Poli, Ford Madox Ford and the “Transatlantic Review,” 94.

89 In “Small Magazines,” Pound was the first to claim that transition picked up where the transatlantic review left off (699). The circulation number is provided by Dougald McMillan, transition: The History of a Literary Era, 1927-38 (London: Calder and Boyers, 1975), 23.

90 “To span the Atlantic with a two-way flow of ideas” was his goal. See Jolas, “Preface,” in Transition Workshop, ed. Eugene Jolas (New York: Vanguard, 1949), 13-14.

91 Eugene Jolas, Man from Babel (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1998), 88.

92 Celine Mansanti, “De The Criterion á transition: L’evolution des revues littéraires et la désintégration de l’esprit d’avant-garde,” in Revues modernistes anglo-américaines: Lieux d’échanges, lieux d’exil, Benoît Tadié, ed. (Paris: Ent’revues, 2006), 64.

94 Dougald McMillan makes passing reference to this number in his book on transition: “Over one thousand of them subscribed in hopes that at least some of these developments from Paris could get by the rigid customs” (transition, 1).

95 Issues 24-26 were an exception; they were edited in New York City between 1936 and 1937. Jolas, Man from Babel, xvi.

96 Pound to Quinn, 11 August 1915, in Selected Letters of Ezra Pound to John Quinn, 33.

1 Vincenzo Carderelli, La ronda (April 1919): 6. Unless otherwise indicated, all translations are my own. I thank Edvige Giunta for her generous assistance preparing the final versions.

2 For a brief overview, see Elisabetta Mondello, “Il secolo delle riviste,” in Letteratura italiana del novecento: Bilancio di un secolo, ed. Alberto Asor Rosa (Turin: Einaudi, 2000), 163-79; and Luisa Mangoni, “Le riviste del novecento,” in Letteratura italiana, vol. 1, ed. Alberto Asor Rosa (Turin: Einaudi, 1982). For the more extensive histories, see Augusto Hermet, La ventura delle riviste, 1904-1940 (Florence: Vallecchi, 1941); and Giuseppe Langella, Il secolo delle riviste: Lo statuto letterario dal “Baretti” a “Primato” (Milan: Vita e Pensiero, 1982). A comprehensive description of the most influential titles can be found in La cultura italiana del ‘900 attraverso le riviste, 6 vols., ed. Angelo Romano (Turin: Einaudi, 1960).

3 Enzo Ferrieri, “Introduzione all’antologia del Convegno,” 50. The unpublished original is housed in the Fondo Manoscritti at the University of Pavia.

5 These phrases are taken from Hermet, La ventura delle riviste; and Langella, Il secolo delle riviste.

6 For a discussion of the Fascist takeover of the press in the 1920s, see Nicola Tranfaglia, Paolo Murialdi, and Massimo Legnani, La stampa italiana nell’età fascista (Bari: Laterza, 1980).

7 See Luisa Mangoni, L’interventismo della cultura: Intelletuali e riviste del fascismo (Turin: Aragno, 2002).

8 See Claudio Matteini, Ordini alla stampa (Rome: Editrice Polilibraria Italiana, 1945).

9 He even devoted a manifesto to the subject in 1931 that was titled “Contro l’esterofilia: Manifesto futurista alle signore e agli intelletuali” and was published in Turin’s Gazetta del popolo (September 24, 1931), which was, not coincidentally, where Gramsci and Gobetti once were based.

10 Holding them all together, he explained, was “una sua propria forma di moralità,” so that whatever the ideological and regional differences, they all talked about the “restaurazioni di valori, di tradizione classica ed europea, di imperativi morali e civili, in realtà, tranne il Baretti, si può dire che la vocazione più diffusa delle riviste italiane qualificate era ancora puramente letteraria, in senso spesso formalmente stilistico, per non dire calligrafico.” Ferrieri, “Introduzione,” 51.

11 “Bisogna quindi riconoscere apertamente che le riviste di per sé sono sterili, se non diventano la forza motrice e formatrice di isituzioni culturali a tipo associativo di massa, cioè non a quadri chiusi.” Antonio Gramsci, Quaderni del carcere, vol. 6 (Turin: Einaudi, 1975), 790.

12 I discuss the recent opening of Ferrieri’s archive at the Fondazione Arnoldo and Alberto Mondadori in “Black Lacunae: Dial M for Milan or Modernism or Marinetti or Mussolini or Mondadori,” Times Literary Supplement (January 28, 2011).

13 Ferrieri, “Introduzione,” 54.

14 Reprinted in Mario Fubini’s preface to Il Baretti, anastatic reprint (Turin: La Bottega d’Erasmo, 1977).

15 Ferrieri, “Introduzione,” 2.

16 See Langella, Il secolo delle riviste, 93-95.

17 See Enzo Siciliano, ed., Antologia di “Solaria” (Milan: Lerici, 1958).

18 Langella, Il secolo delle riviste, 83.

19 F. T. Marinetti, La grande Milano tradizionale e futurista: Una sensibilità italiana nata in Egitto (Milan: Mondadori, 1969), 75.

20 Claudia Salaris, Marinetti editore (Rome: Il Mulino, 1990), 24.

22 Carlo Linati, Sulle orme di Renzo (Rome: Quaderni della Voce, 1919), 29-30.

23 The full run of Poesia can be accessed through the Catologo informatico riviste culturali europee (CIRCE).

24 Linati, Sulle orme di Renzo, 29-30.

25 Paolo Buzzi, I tempi di “Poesia" (1928), in Futurismo: Scritti, carteggi, testimonianze, 7 vols., eds. Mario Morini and Giampaolo Pignatari (Milan: I Quaderni di Palazzo Sormani, Ripartazione Cultura e Spettacolo, Biblioteca Comunale, 1982-1983), 1:9.

27 Salaris, Marinetti editore, 36.

28 Claudia Salaris and Lawrence Rainey, “Marketing Modernism: Marinetti as Publisher,” trans. Lawrence Rainey, Modernism/Modernity 1, no. 3 (1994): 109-27.

29 He wrote these words to Giovanni Pascoli in 1907. See “Carteggio inedito Pascoli-Marinetti,” ed. Claudia Salaris, Alfabeta 6, no. 71 (1985).

30 See Salaris, Marinetti editore, 281-88.

31 See Giuseppe Prezzolini, La coltura italiana (Florence: La Voce, 1923).

32 “Continua a fare la tua Rivista coi migliori nomi italiani e stranieri, che così va benissimo e il pubblico non desidera di meglio” (September 20, 1920), quoted in Angelo Stella, “Il Convegno" di Enzo Ferrieri e la cultura europea dal 1920 al 1940: Manoscritti, immagini, documenti (Pavia: Fondo Manoscritti, 1991), 18.

33 “Raccogliere testimonianze poetiche, scoprire autori, che portavano un contributo alla ricostruzione di una nuova cultura europea e di un nuovo linguaggio.” Ferrieri, “Introduzione,” 52.

34 See Giansiro Ferrata, Presentazioni e sentimenti critici (1942-1965) (Cremona: G. Mangiarotti, 1966), 180-81.

35 See Pascale Casanova, The World Republic of Letters, trans. M. B. DeBevoise (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2007), 87.

36 An early and important highlight in 1921 involved the guest appearance of Albert Thibaudet, the celebrated literary critic from the NRF. He contributed a comprehensive overview on contemporary French literature, followed up six years later by his equally impressive essay on Jacques Rivière, which was published in Il convegno and the NRF simultaneously.

37 See Cristina Bevilacqua, “Giochi di luce a ‘Convegno’: Il teatro e i modelli stranieri,” in Le letterature straniere nell’Italia dell’entre-deux guerres, ed. Edoardo Esposito (Lecce: Pensa, 2004), 347.

38 Quoted in Stella, “Il Convegno" di Enzo Ferrieri, 3.

39 In the Fondo Ferrieri, which is housed at the Fondazione Arnoldo e Alberto Mondadori, Milan, for instance, I was unable to find any detailed distribution list.

40 The breakdown was as follows: for 1933, there were four issues (1-2, 3-5, 6-7, 8-12); for 1934, there were three issues (1-3, 4-7, 8-12); for 1935, there were four issues (1-3, 4-6, 7-9, 10-12).

41 Throughout the 1920s, Il convegno averaged between 600 and 800 pages a year. By 1932, the number dipped below 600, reaching its lowest point in 1934 with 214 pages, never getting far above 400 pages in the remaining years.

42 Ferrieri confirmed that the design was motivated by Borgese’s anti-Fascism: “He designed the new cover, all white, without the fascist year and only with the year of the review.” (Disegnò [Borgese] la nuova copertina, tutta Bianca, senza l’anno fascista e solo con l’anno della rivista). Ferrieri, “Introduzione,” 45.

43 “Il Convegno non segue alcuna moda, a volontà di capire, di suscitare interesse a problemi morali, letterari, artistici, e diffonderne la conoscenza fra un pubblico relativamente largo. Questa è la ragione che fa del Convegno, dopo diciasette anni di vita, senza contraddizioni, una delle più giovani riviste italiane.” Quoted in Stella, “Il Convegno” di Enzo Ferrieri, 1.

44 After Il convegno closed down, Ferrieri published a “comprehensive index” (indice sistematico) of the articles, theatrical performances, art exhibitions, movies, radio programs, and conferences.

45 Ferrieri, “Introduzione,” 79.

46 For a discussion of Fascism’s relationship with mass culture, see David Forgacs and Stephen Gundle, Mass Culture and Italian Society from Fascism to the Cold War (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007).

47 For a useful overview of Ojetti as editor, see Valeria Minvervini, “Le riviste di Ojetti,” in Esposito, Le letterature straniere nell’Italia dell’entre-deux guerres, 383-403.

48 A complete run of Pan can be accessed digitally through Periodici Italiani Digitalizzati (http://periodici.librari.beniculturali.it/).

49 “Questa rivista sarà dunque una rivista d’umanità e di cultura Questo consenso intendiamo ottenerlo continuando qui con dignità gli studii più usati, di storia, d’arte, di critica, di vario pensiero, e cercando di portare chiarezza, ordine e schiettezza italiana in ogni campo dell’intelligenza originale.” Ugo Ojetti, “Al lettore,” Pan 1, no. 1 (1933): 3-4.

50 Pan 3, no. 10 (1935): 276.

51 Corrente di vita giovanile (December 15, 1939): 1.

52 Langella, Il secolo delle riviste, 83.

53 Antologia della rivista “Corrente,” ed. Giovannella Desideri (Naples: Guida, 1979). A summary of the articles and a full index of contributors and contents can be found in Corrente di vita giovanile, ed. Alfredo Luzi (Rome: Edizione dell’Ateneo, 1975).

54 “Noi riteniamo col nostro giornale,” Treccani wrote in the first number, “di poter offrire ai giovani un campo per vagliare le proprie forze, una pedana da cui essi possano meglio spiccare un salto verso precise realtà, e non nel vuoto delle illusioni.” Corrente di vita giovanile (January 1, 1938): 1.

55 See “Il movimento milanese di ‘Corrente di Vita Giovanile’ e l’ermetismo,” L’approdo letterario 14, no. 43 (1968): 79-100, available at http://circe.lett.unitn.it/le_riviste/riviste/bibliografia_spe/biblio/Corrente_Approdo.pdf.

56 For a synopsis, see Desideri, introduction to Antologia della riviste “Corrente"; and Anna Vaglio, “Lo spazio della poesia: Corrente di vita giovanile,” in Esposito, Le letterature straniere nell’Italia dell’entre-deux guerres, 469-82.

57 Vaglio, “Lo spazio della poesia,” 477.

59 Desideri, introduction to Antologia della rivista “Corrente,” 8.

60 For a debate about the legacy of Corrente by many of its contributors in 1968, see “Il movimento milanese.”

61 This is how Raffele De Grada described it while he was waiting at the typographers for the next issue of Corrente. See “Il movimento milanese,” 2.

62 For an extensive history of Primato, see Vito Zagarrio, Primato: Arte, cultura, cinema del fascismo attraverso una rivista esemplare (Rome: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 2007). See also Luisa Mangoni, Primato, 1940-1943 (Bari: De Donato, 1977).

63 Bottai to Linati, 17 January 1940, emphasis added. 1.3, folder 52, Fondo Ferrieri, Fondazione Arnoldo e Alberto Mondadori, Milan.

64 Mangoni, “Le riviste del novecento,” 971.

65 Ferrieri, “Introduzione,” 52.

1 Tim Epkenhans, Die Iranische Modern im Exil: Bibliographie der Zeitschrift Kāve (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2000).

2 The Hungarian activists who then broke away from Kassák and Ma started Egység (Vienna, 1922; Berlin, 1923-1924; Vienna, 1924) and Akasztott ember (Vienna, 1922-1923). See Oliver A. I. Botar, “From the Avant-Garde to ‘Proletarian Art’: The Emigré Hungarian Journals Egyser and Akasztott Ember, 1922-23,” Art Journal 52, no. 1 (1993): 34-45.

3 For a useful overview of these titles, see the essays collected in Peter Brooker and Andrew Thacker, eds., The Oxford Critical and Cultural History of Little Magazines, vol. 2, North America, 1894-1960 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 629-718.

4 Editorial, Double Dealer (1922).

5 “Foreign Periodicals,” Criterion 4, no. 2 (1926).

6 Malcolm Cowley, Exile’s Return: A Literary Odyssey of the 1920s (New York: Penguin Books, 1934).

7 William Troy, “Story of the Little Magazines,” Bookman 70, no. 5 (1930): 661.

8 Pound, “Small Magazines,” 702.

9 The Jack Rose was a popular cocktail in 1920s Paris made from a combination of applejack, grenadine, and lemon or lime juice. It’s Jake Barnes’s preference in Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises.

10 In this regard, a letter between the recently exiled Erich Auerbach (in Istanbul) and his old friend (in Paris) is revealing: “How are you? I recently saw your name and the names of some other friends in a journal that is much read here.” The name that Auerbach recognizes in the Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung only reaffirms their joint absence from a “home,” as he wrote in another letter, “that vanished so long ago.” Erich Auerbach, Martin Elsky, Martn Vialon, and Robert Stein, “Scholarship in Times of Extremes: The Letters of Erich Auerbach (1933-46),” Publications of the Modern Language Association 122, no. 3 (2007): 749, 747.

11 “Exile, whether actual or merely spiritual, was a gesture of protest against the automatic censorship which American morality exercised over minds which wished to be free.” Hoffman, Allen, and Ulrich, Little Magazine, 77. Eric Bentley, noticing this bias, wrote, “Mr. Hoffman seemed to have done nearly all his reading in English, to be badly informed about Europe, and to lack something more important than information—the feel of a society, a period, a milieu.” Bentley, “Editors in Person: Little Magazines,” Kenyon Review 9, no. 2 (1947): 280.

12 VVV and Dyn are among the entries.

13 Paul Bixler, “The Little Magazine, What Now?,” Antioch Review 8, no. 1 (1948): 63.

14 Bentley, “Little Magazines,” 283.

15 “Fautil se représenter un champ littéraire exilé ou diasporique suffisamment vaste pour être structuré comme un champ littéraire national?” See Laurent Jeanpierre, “Revues modernistes et champs littéraires: Problèmes de frontiers,” in Revues modernistes anglo-américaines: Lieux d’échanges, lieux d’exil, ed. Benoît Tadié (Paris: Ent’revues, 2006), 169.

16 A more recent treatment of VVV as part of an American magazine tradition can be found in Cary Nelson, ed., The Oxford Handbook of Modern and Contemporary of American Poetry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012).

17 Roman Jakobson, Language and Literature (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1990), 35.

18 Information contained in a letter from Price to Pound on 15 April 1927, Box 42, folder 1789, YCAL MSS 43, Ezra Pound Papers, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University Library, New Haven, Conn. (hereafter cited as Beinecke). Two hundred copies were also distributed through bookstores in England and Paris. See Andrzej Gasiorek, “The Exiles: the transatlantic review (1924) and The Exile (1927-28), in The Oxford Critical and Cultural History of Modernist Magazines, vol. 1, Britain and Ireland, 1880-1955, ed. Peter Brooker and Andrew Thacker (Oxford University Press, 2009), 712.

19 See Spoo, 73-75, 106-7.

21 Arjun Appadurai, Modernity at Large: Cultural Dimensions of Globalization (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), 35-40.

22 See Harold Loeb, The Way It Was (Vancouver: Criterion Books, 1959); Matthew Josephson, Life among the Surrealists (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1962); Cowley, Exile’s Return. See also Michael North’s “Transatlantic Transfer: Little Magazines and Euro-American Modernism,” unpublished paper available at http://modmags.dmu.ac.uk/file/north_transatlantic_transfer.pdf.

23 Harold Loeb, “Foreign Exchange,” Broom 2, no. 2 (May 1922): 176.

24 Harold Loeb, “Comment: Broom 1921-23,” Broom 5, no. 1 (August 1923): 55.

25 In 1921, the U.S. dollar was equal to 23.3 Italian lire. In 1922, it went down to 21 lire. In 1922, the U.S. dollar was equal to 430 deutschemarks, but by 1923, it jumped to 50,000. Historical currency conversions made using http://www.measureworth.com.

26 Cowley, Exile’s Return, 82.

27 Gorham Munson, “How to Run a Little Magazine,” Saturday Review of Literature 15, no. 22 (March 27, 1937): 14.

28 Gorham Munson, Secession 5 (July 1923): 30.

29 Pascale Casanova, The World Republic of Letters, trans. M. B. DeBevoise (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2004).

30 The exception, of course, would be the limited deluxe editions reserved for the most important donors or contributors. An entire history remains to be written of the deluxe edition little magazine.

31 Munson, “How to Run a Little Magazine,” 4.

32 See Lyman Horace Weeks, A History of Paper Manufacturing in the United States, 1690-1916 (New York: Lockwood Trade Journal, 1916), 319.

33 See David C. Smith, History of Papermaking in the United States, 1691-1969 (New York: Lockwood, 1970), 344.

34 Loeb also hired a German-speaking assistant in Berlin to negotiate the “cost of printing, paper, and reproductions.” See Loeb, Way It Was, 128.

35 In 1921, the U.S. dollar was the equivalent of 21 lire.

36 Box 9, folders 328, 329, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke. The breakdown for the Dial is included in a summary of cash payments for 1921 (Cash Payments Year 1921) and 1922 (Cash Payments Year 1922). Paper for 1921: $7,344.65. Paper for 1922: $9,646.57. To get that number, I averaged the two years and divided by twelve issues.

37 Loeb, Way It Was, 75.

38 Nat Shaw to Harold Loeb, 28 January 1922, Box 1, folder 6, Broom Correspondence of Harold Loeb, Manuscripts Division, Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, Princeton University Library, Princeton, N.J. (hereafter cited as Princeton).

39 Pierre Loving, “Towards Walt Whitman,” Double Dealer 4, no. 21 (1922): 141.

40 Loeb, Way It Was, 76.

41 Most of the expense reports from this period in Rome are in “Broom Manuscript Lists and Newspaper Clippings,” Box 2, folder 11, Broom Correspondence of Harold Loeb, and Box 1, folder 6, Broom “Rome,” Princeton. For a point of comparison, the printing costs for the Dial in 1921 and 1922 were $17,994.86 and $17,706.10 respectively. See Box 9, folder 329, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke.

42 For the first issue, this didn’t prove to be much of a problem, only a misplaced linecut on page 21 (noticed by Nat Shaw in a letter of October 5, 1921). Wole Soyinka describes a similar situation with Transition’s non-English-speaking printer, an Italian refugee from Zaire: “But he, patient Signor Pessina, set every letter of the early Transitions by hand, purely at sight from the typed copy, without understanding a single word, and errors occurred wildly.” Quoted in Peter Benson, “Black Orpheus,” “Transition,” and Modern Cultural Awakening in Africa (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), 106. Margaret Anderson and Ezra Pound blamed the typos in the Little Review on a temperamental Serbian printer known only as Mr. Popovitch. See Anderson, My Thirty Years’ War: The Autobiography, Beginnings, and Battles to 1930 (New York: Covici, Friede Publishers, 1930), 162.

43 Loeb, Way It Was, 138-39. Describing this experience to Loeb in a letter dated October 20, 1922, Ridge wrote: “Much of the September issue—which only arrived at 4 p.m. (over a month late!!) water soaked. Inspector called. I shall have to separate magazines left into three parts…. Under the circumstances—dealers and subscribers writing—some of them insulting letters—inquiries, to which we have had to send over one hundred written replies, there was nothing to do but correct them by hand. By working all day Sunday and sitting up till three o’clock Monday morning, we got out all subscribers, dealers, and publicity—six cases—by noon Monday.” Box 2, folder 1, Broom Correspondence of Harold Loeb, Princeton.

44 As indicated in the expense reports.

45 Theodor Adorno, Notes to Literature, trans. Shierry Weber Nicholsen, 2 vols. (1974; repr., New York: Columbia University Press, 1992), 2:24, 29.

46 See Walter Benjamin, “Graphology Old and New,” in The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility and Other Writings, ed. Michael Jennings, Brigid Doherty, and Thomas Levin (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2008), 192-94.

47 Some time in mid-October 1921 (and in regards to the first issue), Shaw informed Loeb: “I have cabled to find out about the BROOM, why it doesn’t come. It floors me to find out that it wasn’t shipped on the 15th of September or if it was shipped from Rome on the 15th of September, it left Naples by S. S. Palermo on the 14th of October. Jezes Christ.” He followed up on October 31, with news that “the shipment of brooms arrived in port Saturday, October 29” but he was temporarily delayed in collecting them because he didn’t have the proper bill of landing or consular invoice. Box 1, folder 6, Broom Correspondence of Harold Loeb, Princeton.

48 Shaw to Loeb, 28 January 1922, ibid.

49 Loeb to American Express, ibid.

50 Bernard Poli notes that because of these shipping delays, the transatlantic review regularly came out a month later in the United States. With the arrival of issue 6, Thomas Seltzer decided that they would be stamped for the following month: a June number in Europe, then, was a July number in the United States. Poli, Ford Madox Ford and the “Transatlantic Review” (Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1967), 93.

51 And delivery time wasn’t much better in parts of Europe. On a letter dated November 14, 1921, Alfred Kreyemborg sent Scofield Thayer two copies of Broom, adding, “Mails so atrocious these days. Our second copertino was to present a new design, but the design was held up 22 days in transit, via Prague.” Box 34, folder 935, YCAL MSS 34, Dial/Scofield Thayer Papers, Beinecke.

52 The printer, L’Universelle in Rome, would take care of the subscriptions within Italy and, I suspect, the rest of Europe, since there was often a printer’s charge for “mail-shipping” separate from “paper freight” costs. One undated document in the Broom Correspondence of Harold Loeb lists the “Most Favourable Booksellers, With Addresses” in England, noting that eight out of the nine sell only “one copy” per month and return the rest. Another document shows that they had better luck with Shakespeare & Co. in Paris, which averaged fifteen copies per month. Box 2, folder 11, “Manuscript Lists and Newspaper Clippings, 1921-23,” Broom Correspondence of Harold Loeb, Princeton.

53 The Italian envelopes were Shaw’s idea. In November 1921, he wrote to Loeb, “Of course I can by [sic] envelopes here which have a distinctive touch, but the most commonplace envelope which you buy there who far excel my most troublesome and ambitious attempt. If you agree to this send me 5,000.” Box 1, folder 6, Broom Correspondence of Harold Loeb, Princeton.

54 Loeb, Way It Was, 136.

55 Ibid., 150-51. The contract with Labisch was finalized on August 22, 1922. The cost for the paper (22½ cm x 31½ cm), cover paper, blocks, and printing came to 196,000 deutschmarks. The currency exchange rate for July 1922 was 492 deutschmarks to the U.S. dollar, which would bring the total cost to roughly US$398. Loeb calculates in his October expense report that the “Broom cover & paper Aug. 26” was the equivalent of US$100 and the printing US$150, leaving the rest for the blocks and printing. Paper costs for September 8 were 85,000 deutschmarks. Since the devaluation of the deutschmark was happening so quickly, it’s difficult to pinpoint what the value in U.S. dollars would be on that day, especially when you factor in that by January 1923, one U.S. dollar was the equivalent of 17,972 deutschmarks. See Brian Trumbore, “The German Currency Crisis of 1922-24,” BUYandHOLD, accessed May 6, 2016. https://www.buyandhold.com/bh/en/education/history/2000/german_currency.xhtml.

56 Matthew Josephson, the associate editor, ended up taking a job as a data analyst on Wall Street. Loeb became a government administrator. See North, “Transatlantic Transfer,” 20-21.

57 Poli suspects that this disconnect had something to do with the demise of the transatlantic review: it was “too expensive and not interesting enough for French readers and was too foreign to compete favorably with locally published periodicals in England and in the United States” (Ford Madox Ford and the “Transatlantic Review,” 48).

58 In La revue transition (1927-38): Le modernisme historique en devenir (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2009), 95, Celine Mansanti calls it “the last big little magazine-in-exile…to emerge in the wake of high modernism.” See also Celine Mansanti, “Between Modernisms: transition (1927-38),” in Brooker and Thacker, Oxford Critical and Cultural History of Modernist Magazines, vol. 2, 718-736.

59 “Stalin only needs to clear his throat and they throw Kafka and Van Gogh on the rubbish-heap.” Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia:Reflections on a Damaged Life, trans. E. F. N. Jephcott (1945; repr., New York: Verso, 2010), 207.

60 VVV 2-3 (1943): 45.

61 Emily Hage, “The Magazine as Strategy: Tristan Tzara’s Dada and the Seminal Role of Dada Art Journals in the Dada Movement,” Journal of Modern Periodical Studies 2, no. 1 (2011): 33-53. See also Howardena Pindell, “Alternative Space: Artists’ Periodicals,” Print Collector’s Newsletter 8, no. 4 (1977): 96-121; and Gwen Allen, Artists’ Magazines: An Alternative Space for Art (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2011). Allen has pointed out that later uses of the magazine as an exhibition space included Aspen 5-6 (1967), edited and designed by Brian O’Doherty, who, influenced by the Boîte-en-valise of Marcel Duchamp, later recalled that “with conceptual art, you needed a magazine more than a gallery” since it could function as a “miniature museum” (49-50).

62 Rosalind Krauss, The Originality of the Avant-Garde and Other Modernist Myths (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1986), 101. Krauss came to this conclusion after visiting the 1978 exhibition Dada and Surrealism Reviewed. The exhibition catalogue provides extensive details about each publication. More recently, Ades delivered a lecture on the relationship between the exiled Surrealists and Aimé Césaire, titled “Transnational Surrealism: Tropiques and the Role of the Little Magazine.” It can be found at http://podcasts.ox.ac.uk/slade-lectures-7-transnational-surrealism-tropiques-and-role-little-magazine-audio.

63 The term alternative space was first used by Howardena Pindell in “Alternative Space: Artists’ Periodicals,” which included an incredibly useful chronology of examples from 1900 up until 1976. See Print Collectors Newsletter 4 (September-October 1977): 96-121.

64 Walter Benjamin, “Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproducibility,” in Walter Benjamin: Selected Writings, ed. Howard Eiland and Michael Jennings, 2 vols. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2002), 2:57.

65 T. J. Demos associates the placelessness enabled by technologies of reproduction with the experience of exile. “Reproductions,” he writes, “became homeless representations: free-floating, they existed in no secure location, geographical or temporal.” Demos, The Exiles of Marcel Duchamp (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2007), 42.

66 Jackson Pollock, for one, had a full run of Dyn on his shelves.

67 No. 1 was published in June 1942, nos. 2-3 in March 1943, no. 4 in February 1944.

68 Roberto Matta, one of the first exiles to reach New York, had the idea to start a review based on Minotaure and the London Bulletin. A notice appeared, but nothing ever came of it. See Dawn Ades, Dada and Surrealism Reviewed (London: Arts Council of Great Britain, 1978), 375.

69 Quoted in Monica Sawin, Surrealism in Exile and the Beginning of the New York School (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1995), 219.

70 Ibid., 219-20. Ades has a slightly different emphasis: “The variety both in the type and manner of presenting the illustrations, the different kinds of paper used in the review (possibly of course determined by what was available, though the practical problems of producing a review in America were nowhere near as acute as they were in Europe), the care in the setting, and the choice of type, make VVV one of the most striking Surrealist magazines” (Dada and Surrealism Reviewed, 376).

71 For an account of the 1938 Exposition international du surréalisme, see Demos, Exiles of Marcel Duchamp, 128-88.

72 Demos argues instead that there is an antinationalist subtext in this image, one that demonstrates how “the desire for collective unity is fulfilled at the bloody cost of fragmentation.” Ibid., 66.

73 Quoted in Lowert Stokes Sims and Wifredo Lam, Wifredo Lam and the International Avant-Garde, 1923-1982 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2002), 86.

74 Tristan Tzara, Le surréalisme et l’après-guerre (Paris: Nagel, 1947), quoted in Helena Lewis, Dada Turns Red: The Politics of Surrealism (Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh Press, 1990), 164.

75 Aimé Césaire, “Conquete de l’aube,” VVV 1 (June 1942): 39-41; Césaire, “Poèmes,” VVV 2-3 (March 1943): 132; Césaire, “Batouque,” VVV 4 (February 1944): 22-26.

76 For a useful discussion of Césaire’s relationship with Surrealism and his relationship with Tropiques, see Jean-Claude Michel, Les écrivains noirs et le surréalisme (Sherbrooke, Quebec: Éditions Naaman, 1982).

77 André Breton, “Un grande poète noir,” Tropiques 11 (May 1944): 120. The use of “lumière” here alludes to the final line of Césaire’s opening editorial for Tropiques 1 (April 1941): 6: “Les hommes de bonne volonté feront au monde un nouvelle lumière.” When thinking about the significance of voix as a keyword, it should also be noted that Breton worked as a French radio announcer for “La voix de l’Amerique en guerre” while living in New York City. Still back in occupied Paris, André Thirion recalls hearing these broadcasts: “In spirit of the atmospherics, the voice of André Breton, so recognisable in the broadcasts from America, resounded as a summons and an encouragement.” Quoted in Ades, Dada and Surrealism Reviewed, 410.

78 Suzanne Césaire, “1943: Le surréalisme et nous,” Tropiques 8-9 (October 1943): 14.

79 Hoffman, Allen, and Ulrich, Little Magazine, 79.

80 Celia Aijmer Rydsjö and AnnKatrin Jonsson brought some other Anglo-American examples from the 1930s to my attention: Échanges (1929-1932), the New Review (1931-1932), Booster (1937-1939), Epilogue (1935-1937), and Caravel (1934-1936). See “‘Published by Us, Written by Us, Read by Us’: Little Magazine Networks,” Global Review 1, no. 1 (2013): 39-65.

81 The Chicago-based Arsenal 3 (1976) reprinted the “Manifesto of the Arab Surrealist Movement.”

1 Pound, “Small Magazines,” 702.

2 See Lewis Nkosi, “On Okyeame,” Transition 12, no. 1 (1964): 28. Bernth Lindfors, repeating Nkosi, later put it this way: “When comprehensive histories of modern African literature come to be written, some attention will have to be given to ephemeral printed media that provided aspiring authors with opportunities to express themselves.” Lindfors, Loaded Vehicles: Studies in African Literary Media (Trenton, N.J.: Africa World, 1996), 43.

3 “Onitsha authors were influenced by Indian popular pamphlets which were in turn based on Victorian popular magazine fiction introduced into India by colonising troops and traders. India pamphlets were brought back by African soldiers returning from Burma and the Far East campaigns after the Second World War and inspired the Onitsha Market pamphlet.” Emmanuel Obiechina, An African Popular Literature: A Study of Onitsha Market Pamphlets (New York: Africana, 1971), 95.

4 For a broad overview on the subject of little magazines and Africa, see Milton Krieger, “The Formative Journals and Institutions,” in The Cambridge History of African and Caribbean Literature, ed. Abiola Irele and Simon Gikandi (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 398-407.

5 Simon Gikandi identifies modernism as a site of “Eurocentric danger,” which is one of the reasons postcolonial critics have treated it with suspicion. Gikandi, “Modernism in the World,” Modernism/Modernity 13, no. 3 (2006): 421.

6 Neil Lazarus, The Postcolonial Unconscious (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011); Jahan Ramazani, A Transnational Poetics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009); Peter Kalliney, “Modernism, African Literature, and the Cold War,” Modern Language Quarterly 76, no. 3 (September 2015): 333-68; Simon Gikandi, Writing in Limbo: Modernism and Caribbean Literature (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1992).

7 Gikandi, “Modernism in the World,” 421.

8 Malcolm Bradbury and James McFarlane, Modernism: A Guide to European Literature, 1890-1930 (London and New York: Penguin, 1978), 203.

9 A. J. Seymour, “Little Reviews,” Kyk-over-al 2, no. 10 (April 1950): 204. The terms little review and little magazine get applied to West Indian and African in an uncritical manner again and again in the following decades. Here are a few representative examples: “Bim and Kyk-over-al are more in the nature of the little reviews.” J. A. Ramsaran, Black Orpheus 4 (October 1958): 58. “Little Magazines have played a big role in the development of anglophone African writing.” Lindfors, “African Little Magazines,” in Mapping Intersections: African Literature and Africa’s Development, ed. Anne V. Adams and Janis A. Mayes (Trenton, N.J.: Africa World, 1998), 87-94. “What has been called the explosion of creative writing which took place in the late forties and early fifties owes an important debt to a little magazine in Barbados, one of the smallest of the islands.” John Wickham, introduction to Bim: The Literary Magazine of Barbados, 1942-1973, vol. 1 (Millwood, N.Y.: Kraus Reprint, 1977), iii.

10 I am modifying a formulation made by Neil Lazarus regarding the globality of anticolonial nationalism: “In its appearance in works of literature, anticolonial nationalism is seldom narrow, sectarian, or chauvinistic; it seeks instead to open the community up to the globe. The fostering of nationalism is also the fostering of internationalism and transcultural solidaristic affiliation.” Lazarus, Postcolonial Unconscious, 65.

11 O. R. Dathorne, Black Orpheus 15 (1964): 60.

12 A. J. Seymour, “Literature in the Making—the Contribution of Kyk-over-al,” Kyk-over-al 33-34 (April 1986): 3-12.

13 Emilio Rodriguez, “An Overview of Caribbean Literary Magazine: Its Liberating Function,” Bim 17, 66-67 (1983): 126; Lindfors, “African Little Magazines”; Mervyn Morris, “Little Magazines in the Caribbean,” Bim 68 (1984): 3-9.

14 Albert Gomes, “West Indian Magazines,” Beacon 3, no. 4 (November 1933): 74-75.

15 Albert Gomes, “West Indian Literature,” Beacon 12, no. 12 (June 1933): 4.

16 For a sampling of the most significant literary and political contributions, see Reinhard Sander, ed., From Trinidad: An Anthology of Early West Indian Writing (New York: Africana, 1978).

17 Jahan Ramazani, The Hybrid Muse: Postcolonial Poetry in English (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001).

18 Robie Macauley, “The ‘Little Magazines,’” Transition, no. 9 (1963): 24.

19 “The most important—and the most enduring—of the little literary magazines that arose in this period was Kyk-over-al, in Guyana, edited by the poet A. J. Seymour from 1945 to 1961 and then revived in the 1980s by Seymour and Ian McDonald, and Bim in Barbados, edited by Frank Collymore (and later John Wickham) from the 1940s through to the 1990s.” Stewart Brown and Mark Mc-Watt, introduction to The Oxford Book of Caribbean Verse, ed. Stewart Brown and Mark McWatt (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), xxviii.

20 Sander, From Trinidad, 9. He’s playing off a statement made by A. J. Seymour in an editorial for Kyk-over-al: “It is difficult to over-estimate the importance of the Little Reviews appearing in the West Indies because they have been and still are the nursery of literature.” Seymour, “The Little Review,” Kyk-over-al 2, no. 10 (April 1950): 204.

21 In an early editorial, in fact, an anonymous writer for the Beacon points out that the number of literary clubs in Barbados is limited (the Barbados Literary Society and Forum Club), both of them run by individuals who “take an exceptionally keen interest in the historic background of the Negro.” “Barbados Notes,” Beacon 3, no. 4 (November 1933): 90.

22 Erika J. Waters, “Music of Language: An Interview with George Lamming,” The Caribbean Writer 13 (1999): 193.

23 Simon Gikandi, Writing in Limbo: Modernism and Caribbean Literature (Ithaca, NY: Cornelll University Press, 1992), 33-34.

24 See Peter Kalliney, “Metropolitan Modernism and Its West Indian Interlocutors: 1950s London and the Emergence of Postcolonial Literature,” Publication of the Modern Language Association 122, no. 1 (2007): 89-104.

25 George Lamming, “The Caribbean Artist in Society,” Caribbean Writer 13 (1999): 190-200.

26 Gail Low, Publishing the Postcolonial: Anglophone West African and Caribbean Writing in the UK, 1948-1968 (New York: Routledge, 2012), 100.

27 In a review that appeared in Black Orpheus, Bim gets singled out: “Bim takes the palm for literary eminence since in its pages have appeared over a number of years poems, short stories, and essays by such well known West Indian writers as Edgar Mittelholzer, Samuel Selvon, George Lamming, Roger Mais, and John Hearne.” J. A. Ramsaran, “Caribbean Little Reviews,” Black Orpheus 4 (1958): 58.

28 See Bernth Lindfors, “A Decade of Black Orpheus,” World Literature Today 42, no. 4 (1968): 509-16.

29 Christopher Okigbo, interview by Dennis Duerden, August 1963, London, Transcription Service, Sc-Audio C-3 (side 1, no. 1), tape cassette, Moving Image and Recorded Sound Division, Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, New York, N.Y. See also Peter Benson, “Black Orpheus,” “Transition,” and Modern Cultural Awakening in Africa (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), 298. Okigbo’s primary role as West African editor involved finding material to publish. An announcement for the West African edition did appear in an early issue, stating that it would be printed in Ibadan as a quarterly and edited by Okigbo. Though the literary content was going to be the same, the political and nonliterary material would be different. In a 1963 interview, Okigbo claimed that there were two hundred subscribers for Transition in West Africa, but the “sell or return” policy of bookstores raised the overall cost, further limiting its potential to travel. Okigbo interview, Sc-Audio C-3 (side 1, no. 1).

30 Transition 18 (1965): 16-17; Black Orpheus 17 (1965): 13-17.

31 For a valuable overview of the global book business, see Andre Schriffin, The Business of Books: How International Conglomerates Took Over the Book Business and Changed the Way We Read (New York: Verso, 2001).

32 See Low, Publishing the Postcolonial, 15-33.

33 Bernth Lindfors, “Amos Tutuola’s Search for a Publisher,” in Toward Defining the African Aesthetic, ed. Lemuel A. Johnson et al., (Washington, D.C.: Three Continents Press, 1982) 100-101.

34 See Eileen Julien, “The Extroverted African Novel,” in The Novel:History, Geography, and Culture, ed. Franco Moretti, 2 vols. (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2006), 1:685.

35 Oxford University Press, Heinemann, and Longman ended up producing cheap paperback books, mostly as a special series, and they were intended to reach audiences across Africa, many of them with substantial discounts, ready for use as textbooks in schools and universities. But this process did not kick in until the mid-1960s. See Low, Publishing the Postcolonial, 43-47, 66-73.

36 British publishers catering to universities and schools had more success because their books were getting adapted for syllabi. Robert Fraser points out that during this process of the “internationalisation of African Literature” in the 1960s, 80 percent of Heinemann’s sales from its African Writers Series (begun in 1962) went to Africa and 10 percent to Britain and the United States. From the mid-1980s, however, and largely as a result of the rise of black studies programs in the United States, that number changed dramatically, with 50 percent getting absorbed by a “diasporic constituency” and 20 percent arriving in Africa. Fraser, Book History through Postcolonial Eyes: Rewriting the Script (New York: Routledge, 2008), 182. The Heinemann series, as James Currey contends, provided “good serious reading at accessible prices for the rapidly emerging professional classes as the countries became independent,” helping to do in Africa what the Penguin paperback did in the United Kingdom. Currey, “Africa Writes Back: Heinemann African Writers Series—A Publisher’s Memoir,” in Books without Borders, ed. Robert Fraser and Mary Hammond, 2 vols. (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), 1:159. The market in Africa was “primarily educational rather than general” (Low, Publishing the Postcolonial, 67). The reason for this, Low explains, “was that the Anglophone book trade in Africa was at this juncture left more or less to lie in the consumption of textbooks, despite the presence of popular local publishing such as the Onitsha market or pamphlet literature” (ibid.).

37 Kalliney, “Modernism, African Literature, and the Cold War,” 339.

39 The Daily Times had a readership of around 100,000 and the weekly Sunday Times around 127,000, both of them exceeding the average circulation for a West African newspaper by five times. See Committee on Inter-African Relations, Report on the Press in West Africa (Ibadan, Nigeria: Department of Extramural Studies, University College, 1960). There was a wide range of studentunion magazines, campus newspapers, literary leaflets, departmental periodicals, scholarly journals, and church bulletins. See Bernth Lindfors, “Popular Literature for an African Elite,” Journal of Modern African Studies 12, no. 3 (1974): 471-86.

41 Brent Edwards, The Practice of Diaspora: Literature, Translation, and the Rise of Black Internationalism (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2003), 9.

42 Janheinz Jahn resigned as coeditor after issue 6, and the role was taken over by Ezekiel Mphahlele (until issue 17) and Wole Soyinka (until issue 14).

43 Beier, “Editorial,” Black Orpheus 1 (1957).

44 In an essay devoted almost entirely to Aimé Césaire, Janheinz Jahn took some time to explain the origins of the title: “In 1948, Senghor was able to combine sixteen black authors in an anthology to which no less a writer than Jean-Paul Sartre produced the preface. In this preface ‘Orphée Noir’ we find the enthusiastic sentence: ‘The black poetry in the French language, is in our days, the only great revolutionary poetry.’” Jahn, “Aimé Césaire,” Black Orpheus 2 (1958): 35.

45 Critics who have tracked the development of Black Orpheus (twenty-two issues in ten years, collecting 224 writers from twenty-six African nations) notice the marked shift in content over the years: there are, at first, frequent translations of Francophone poets such as Léopold Senghor, Aimé Césaire, and Leon Damas that later open up to West Indian and African American writers before arriving at a more consistent run of Anglophone contributions from all over the continent.

46 Even without the official distribution list informing readers where Black Orpheus could be found, it was still making its way around the world. Andrew Salkey, for one, claimed that he came across individual copies in the United States, Jamaica, England, France, and Germany. And when meeting a reader from South Africa, Beier inquired how much Black Orpheus was selling for on the newsstands. “I don’t know,” the man replied. “I usually buy a stolen copy.” See Ulli Beier, “Black Orpheus” (discussion of the aims of the magazine), a conversation with Andrew Salkey and Gerald Moore, 1966, London Transcription Service, Sc-Audio C-27 (side 2, no. 2), Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, New York, N.Y.

47 Black Orpheus 14 (1964): 60. This review is unsigned, but Peter Benson suspects that it is Gerald Moore (“Black Orpheus,” “Transition,” and Modern Cultural Awakening in Africa, 19).

48 “While all this new literary activity was going on, the critics were silent. Only three critical articles appeared, one on Langston Hughes, the other two introducing Flavien Ranaivo and Tchicaya U Tam’si. The West Indians and francophone Africans who had attracted a great deal of attention in the first numbers of Black Orpheus were no longer mentioned; the new writers springing up in every issue were perhaps too new and too little published to be intelligently discussed. For the critics it was a time of watching and waiting, a time for writing book reviews rather than lengthy articles.” Lindfors, Loaded Vehicles, 28.

49 For an informative account regarding Nigerian magazines published before Black Orpheus, see Lindfors, “Popular Literature for an African Elite.”

50 In Black Orpheus 19, a sample of each of them can be found: Ulli Beier, “Naive Nigerian Painting,” Black Orpheus 19 (March 1966): 31-32; Marin Esslin, “Two African Playwrights” [Soyinka and J. P. Clark], Black Orpheus 19 (March 1966): 33-39; Janheinz Jahn, “Senghor without a Propeller,” Black Orpheus 19 (March 1966): 40-47; and Lewis Nkosi, “South African Fiction,” Black Orpheus 19 (March 1966): 48-54.

51 Una MacClean, “Soyinka’s International Drama,” Black Orpheus 15 (1964): 46.

52 Neil Lazarus points out that Chinua Achebe would put a different spin on the term universal, seeing it instead as a code word for Western, modern, European. See Lazarus, “Modernism and African Literature,” in The Oxford Handbook of Global Modernisms, ed. Mark Wollaeger with Matt Eatough (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 229.

53 Beier, “Black Orpheus,” Sc-Audio C-27 (side 2, no. 2).

54 Beier, “Editorial,” 1 (1957).

55 For a discussion of this volte face (and a valuable overview of the first ten years), see Bernth Lindfors, “Black Orpheus,” in European-Language Writing in Sub-Saharan Africa, ed. Albert S. Gérard, 2 vols. (Budapest: Akademiai Kiado, 1986), 2:668-79.

56 Rajat Neogy, “Editorial Note,” Transition 12 (January-February 1964): 3.

57 Twelve hundred copies of issue 1 were printed; eight hundred copies of issue 2 followed. An advertisement in issue 33 (October-November 1967) boasted a readership of thirty-six thousand. I’ve been unable to confirm whether this is true.

58 Paul Theroux, “Slickest, Sprightliest, Sexiest,” Transition 37 (1968): 41.

59 For Okigbo, the difference between the two magazines was clear. Black Orpheus will publish “anybody who is black,” while Transition was put in place “to establish the criteria for judging good African literature.” Christopher Okigbo interviewed by Lewis Nkosi, Dennis Duerden, and Robert Serumaga, African Writers Talking: A Collection of Radio Interviews, ed. Cosmo Pieterse and Dennis Duerden (New York: Africana, 1972), 142.

60 Neogy, “An Introductory Offer,” Transition 1 (November 1961).

61 Neogy, “Do Magazines Culture?,” 32.

62 Abiola Irele, “Review of Transition (Issues 1-32),” Journal of Modern African Studies 5, no. 3 (1967): 444.

64 Neogy, “Do Magazines Culture?”, 31.

65 Lionel Trilling, “Letter to the Editor,” Transition 18 (1965): 6.

66 For a discussion of the similarities and differences between the two t/Transitions, see Dayo Olopade, “The Meaning of Modernism in Two Transitions,” Transition 106 (2011): 45-61.

67 For a full discussion of these events, see Benson, “Black Orpheus,” “Transition,” and Modern Cultural Awakening in Africa, 160-89.

68 Ali Mazrui’s controversial piece “Nkrumah: The Leninist Czar” convinced some people that the magazine was publishing propaganda for the U.S. government. Transition 26 (1966): 9-17.

69 Barbara Lapcek-Neogy, “A Matter of Transition,” Transition 75-76 (1997): 244-48.

70 Editorial, Transition 38 (1971): 5.

71 Rajat Neogy, “Letter to the Editor,” Transition 38 (June-July 1971): 6.

72 Neogy, “Do Magazines Culture?,” 31.

73 Michael J. C. Echeruo, ed., A Concordance to the Poems of Christopher Okigbo (With the Complete Text of the Poems, 1957-67) (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen, 2008), 550.

74 Chinweizu, Onwuchekwa Jemie, and Ihechukwu Madubuike, after making a series of fierce indictments against Okigbo’s difficulty, argue that “Limits” and “Heavensgate” have occasional flashes of power, but the lack of a coherent plot and well-formed thoughts makes them “rather sorry imitations of Okigbo’s anglomodernist masters.” Chinweizu, Jemie, and Madubuike, Toward the Decolonization of African Literature (Washington, D.C.: Howard University Press, 1983), 276.

75 Ramazani, Transnational Poetics, 99.

76 See Romanus N. Egudu, “Ezra Pound in African Poetry: Christopher Okigbo,” Comparative Literature Studies 8, no. 2 (1971): 143-54; and M. J. C. Echeruo, “Traditional and Borrowed Elements in Nigerian Poetry,” Nigeria Magazine 87 (1966): 142-55.

77 Michael Levenson, A Genealogy of Modernism: A Study of English Literary Doctrine, 1908-1922 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 194.

78 Ulli Beier, “Three Mbari Poets,” Black Orpheus 12 (1963): 47.

79 It turns out that Eliot’s Waste Land played a role in this as well. In early 1922, while Pound was writing “Canto VIII,” he was also reading Eliot’s poem in manuscript form, and both of them benefited enormously from the interaction, Pound finding a new direction for his Cantos (including using blocks of quoted text), Eliot discovering a new structure for The Waste Land. “Canto VIII” opens, in fact, with an allusion to Eliot as the editor: “These fragments you have shelved (shored),” drawing attention in this particular adaptation to the shelving, not the shoring, of poetic fragments. And there’s something else here that might help us understand Okigbo’s choice of this particular line for his epigraph. “Canto VIII,” which became the first in a sequence of what became the “Malatesta Cantos,” marked a turning point in the composition of the Cantos as a whole. Up until that point, Pound had imagined that they would be strung together by a single sensibility, but here he realized that the juxtaposition of historical figures, events, and voices could create the kind of polyphonic depth he was looking for to guide his epic pursuits. Pound, “Canto VIII,” in The Cantos of Ezra Pound (New York: New Directions, 1970), 28 (lines 30, 28).

80 The typo for “mortar” is in the original and has been kept here.

81 In the authorized final version, the ampersand in these final lines is replaced by “and,” and the final line is detached from the others.

82 Sir James George Frazer, The Golden Bough: Spirits of the Corn and of the Wild (New York: Macmillan, 1914), 310-35.

83 Ibid. Frazer has butchered the line here, which should read, “‘Malisons, malisons, mair than ten / That harrie the nest o’ the heavenly hen.” See William Cadenhead, “The Laverock’s Song,” in Flights of Fancy, and Las of Bon-accord (Aberdeen, U.K.: A. Brown, 1853), 115.

84 Donatus Nwoga has singled out sections X and XI “as a description of the colonial and missionary exploitation of Africa and the demise of Africa gods and values,” noting that other critics before him have seen “Limits” as an allegory for Nigerian independence and the Congo crisis of 1960. See Nwoga, “Okigbo’s Limits: An Approach to Meaning,” in Critical Essays on Christopher Okigbo, ed. Uzoma Esonwanne (New York: G. K. Hall, 2000), 143.

85 Still, it’s interesting to know that even back then, a poet like Okigbo, though publishing like the modernists, still didn’t feel as if he fit in entirely. In 1963, two years after “Limits” appeared, he approached the editor of Poetry magazine, the same one used by Eliot and Pound almost half a century earlier (as advertised in the inside cover), about bringing out “Lament of the Silent Sisters” so that he could “have an audience in America.” Nothing came of the request, but it makes you wonder if Okigbo somehow hadn’t realized that he had already found readers in Europe, England, and America, though it was through a magazine based in East Africa—and, what’s more, he managed to insert himself in Pound’s and Eliot’s company without ever having to appear directly in the pages of an American one. See Michael Echeruo, “Christopher Okigbo, Poetry Magazine, and the ‘Lament of the Silent Sisters,’” Research in African Literatures 35, no. 3 (2004): 10.

1 He wasn’t alone. “Anche tu sei archistufo e nauseato delle forme bestiali dei libri comuni,” Corrado Govoni wrote to Marinetti in 1914, going on to describe his own dreams of publishing his poems as an “organetto” so he could avoid using “la forma odiosa e odiata del libro.” See “Una lettera inedita di Corrado Govoni a F. T. Marinetti sul libro Futurista,” in Bibliografia del futurismo, 19091944, ed. Claudia Salaris (Rome: Biblioteca del Vascello, 1988).

2 He didn’t always feel this way. In 1913, he was still more open to the idea that the book could still function as the site for Futurist experiments with typography: “The book must be the Futurist expression of our Futurist thought. And this is not all. My revolution is directed against the so-called typographical harmony of the page, which contradicts the ebb and flow, the leaps and bounds of style that surge over the page. We shall therefore use three or four different colors of ink on a single page, and should we think it necessary, as many as twenty different typographical characters. For example, italics for a series of like or swift sensations, bold Roman characters for violent onomatopoeias, and so on. With this typographical revolution and this multicolored variety of characters, my purpose is to double the expressive power of words.” F. T. Marinetti, “Destruction of Syntax—Untrammeled Imagination—Words in Freedom,” in F. T. Marinetti: Critical Writings, ed. Günter Berghaus, trans. Doug Thompson (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2006), 128.

3 F. T. Marinetti, “The Futurist Cinema,” “The Radio,” in Critical Writings, 260, 412.

4 F. T. Marinetti, “L’eccellenza Marinetti parla a Graphicus della rivoluzione tipografica futurista,” Graphicus: Rivista mensile di tecnica ed estetica grafica 2 (February 19, 1941). A translation can be found in Claudia Salaris, Riviste futuriste, 347.

5 Stephen Bury describes the avant-garde magazine as follows: “What characterized European avant-garde magazines was their status as a preferred forum for avant-garde debate, their number (however short-lived) and their internationalism in terms of interchange of texts, translated (or not), approved by their authors (or not), and their promotion of ‘like-minded’ magazines.” Bury, Breaking the Rules: The Printed Face of the European Avant-Garde, 1900-1937 (London: British Library, 2007), 38.

6 Regarding the large number of Futurist magazines, Stephen Heller has this to say: “Sometimes it seems as though there were as many different periodicals as there were leaders of the Futurist movement. While retaining loyalty to the overall movement, different members affiliated with different periodicals and many of these reviews were tabloid or broadsheet newspapers that bore the Futurist name-plate and served as both record and demonstration of Futurist exuberance.” Heller, Merz to Émigré and Beyond: Avant-Garde Magazine of the Twentieth Century (London: Phaidon, 2003), 39.

7 See Gleason Leonard Archer, History of Radio to 1926 (New York: American Historical Society, 1938).

8 Katherine Hayles, “Print Is Flat, Code Is Deep: The Importance of Media-Specific Analysis,” Poetics Today 25, no. 1 (2004): 87.

9 L’immaginazione senza fili builds on the Manifesto tecnico della letteratura futurista (1912), and it appeared originally in Lacerba under the titles L’immaginazione senza fili e le parole in libertà (June 15, 1913) and Dopo il verso libero le parole in libertà (November 15, 1913).

10 Marinetti, “Destruction of Syntax,” 123.

11 For an excellent account of the relationship between wireless, radio, and modernist aesthetics, see Timothy Campbell, Wireless Writing in the Age of Marconi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2006). Equally important for understanding the impact of wireless on literature is Mark Goble, Beautiful Circuits: Modernism and the Mediated Life (New York: Columbia University Press, 2010); and Richard Menke, Telegraphic Realism: Victorian Fiction and Other Information Systems (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2007).

12 Later, in 1936, Augusto Calabi argued that the printing press would remain but would have to modernize by reorganizing and teaming up with radio: “Discutono anche gli editori di giornali stampati, per vedere di arginare la concorrenza sempre più temibile che viene loro fatta dalle stazioni emittenti della società di radiodiffusione, ma molto probabilmente non resterà loro altra possibilità oltre quella di trasformare le loro organizzazioni, portandole in parte al servizio del nuovo strumento di comunicazione, rendendole in parte insostituibili.” Calabi, “La radio e la stampa,” Graphicus (September 1936): 14.

13 In Letters from the Avant-Garde: Modern Graphic Design (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1996), Elaine Lustig Cohen and Ellen Lupton argue that print was the preferred medium of the avant-garde because it was easily accessible and based on already established technologies. In developing this point, they look at the letterheads of avant-garde movements, focusing on their experiments with graphic design.

14 It turns out that the term itself was already used by one ecstatic reader in 1914 when complimenting the editors of Wireless Age, a magazine made exclusively for the wireless amateur: “The Wireless Age is the only real wireless magazine worth reading, among a number of so-called wireless magazines.” Letter to the editor, Wireless Age (May 1914): 658.

15 For an excellent collection of articles on the subject, see Jay David Bolter and Richard Grusin, Remediation: Understanding New Media (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2000).

16 Carlo Carrà’s “1914-15,” which appeared in La balza futurista (April 27, 1915), documents the wireless transmission of a ship at sea. Moving from the top of the page to the bottom—north to south—the reader sees the enlarged letters “TSF” (telegrafia senza fili) arranged vertically on the lower left-hand side below “stazione,” indicating either the destination of the electromagnetic signal as it travels or its source.

17 “The word ‘wireless’ still used in Britain, manifests the negative ‘horseless carriage’ attitude toward a new form. Early wireless was regarded as a form of telegraph, and was not seen even in relation to the telephone.” Marshall Mc-Luhan, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1994), 304.

18 Books were costly, took long to produce, and were expensive to transport internationally; the manifesto could move quickly, but its potential as a medium was extremely limited; newspapers were reproducible on a daily basis, but they were regularly under the control of a company and/or government.

19 Scans of Zenit can be found at http://web.archive.org/web/20111224173241/http://scc.digital.nb.rs/collection/zenit.

20 Ljubomir Micić, “O elektrogeniju Nikoli Tesli,” Zenit 15 (June 1922): 37-38.

21 See Darko Šimičić, “From Zenit to Mental Space: Avant-garde, Neo-avant-garde, and Post-avant-garde Magazines and Books in Yugoslavia, 1921-1987,” in Impossible Histories: Historical Avant-gardes, Neo-avant-gardes, and Post-avant-gardes in Yugoslavia, 1918-1991, ed. Dubravka Djurić and Miško Šuvaković (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2003), 294-331.

23 Zenit 2, no. 12 (1922).

24 Aviogram could be translated literally as “air mail,” which did not exist at the time when the magazine was made. It is being used here as another term for wireless, which by this time was breaking off into telegraphy and radio. I suspect that Brauner and Voronca used the “Avio” variation because it played off the speed theme being used to organize the contents of the entire issue. Though planes were indeed fast, wireless was still faster.

25 In 1928, Brauner was associated with Unu, another Bucharest-based magazine. In the first few lines of the opening manifesto, the memory of 75HP remains: “airplane wireless telegraphy radio television 76 HP Marinetti.” See Benson, and Éva Forgács, eds., Between Worlds: A Sourcebook of Central European Avant-Gardes, 1910-1930 (Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 2002), 535-36.

26 F. T. Marinetti, “Futurisme mondial: Manifeste à Paris,” Le futurisme 9 (January 11, 1924): 1-3, reprinted in Noi, 2nd ser., 1, nos. 6-9 (1924): 1-2.

27 Salaris, Riviste Futuriste, 17.

28 “Il gruppo futurista di Marinetti non esiste piú. La vecchia rivista di Marinetti Poesia è ora diretta da un certo Mario Dessí, un uomo senza la minima capacità intelletuale e organizzativa. Nel Sud, specie in Sicilia, compaiono molti fogli futuristi, in cui Marinetti scrive degli articoli: ma questi foglietti vengono pubblicati da studenti che scambiano per futurismo l’ignoranza della grammatica italiana.” Antonio Gramsci, “Una lettera a Trotskij sul futurism,” in Scritti politici, ed. Paolo Spriano, 4 vols. (Rome: Editori Riuniti, 1967), 2:530.

29 Antonio Gramsci, “Types of Periodicals,” in An Antonio Gramsci Reader: Selected Writings, 1916-1935, ed. David Forgacs (New York: Schocken Books, 1988), 385.

30 Ibid. Indeed, the Futurist movement was breaking up into factions, but Marinetti was still intent on championing his own orthodox program. Instead of fighting to eliminate these other Futurisms, he encouraged them, believing that they could only bring attention to his own message. On this topic, see Günter Berghaus, Futurism and Politics: Between Anarchist Rebellion and Fascist Reaction, 1909-1944 (Providence: Berghahn Books, 1996).

31 Among them were Mario Carli, Settimelli, Mario Dessy, Daquanno, Corra, and Giuseppe Bottai. See Claudia Salaris, Marinetti arte e vita futurista (Rome: Editori Riuniti, 1997), 234-35.

32 To make up for the absence of a live periodical, Marinetti brought out three four-page supplements to Poesia, titled Il futurismo, and used them to cover Futurist soirées. See Salaris, Riviste futuriste, 301.

33 F. T. Marinetti, “Futurism’s First Battles,” in Critical Writings, 151.

34 The letters between Mario Carli and Marinetti reveal just how extensive these directions could be. See Mario Carli and F. T. Marinetti, Lettere futuriste tra arte e politica, ed. Claudia Salaris (Rome: Officina Edizioni, 1989).

35 Among them are Der Futurismus in Berlin, Le futurisme in Paris and Rome, Le fiamme d’Italia in Montreal, Futurist Aristocracy in New York City (in English), and Portugal futurista. When N. L. Castelli returned to Bologna, he brought out an Italian version of Futurist Aristocracy that was, Claudia Salaris notes, “more provincial in tone when compared with the New York edition” (Riviste futuriste, 329).

36 During a visit to London in 1914, Marinetti boasted to Mario Carli on July 20, “Tutti i maggiori giornali londinesi, d’altronde, furono e continuarono adessere pieni di Futurismo” (in Carli and Marinetti, Lettere futuriste tra arte e politica, 42).

37 Raymond Williams, Marxism and Literature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), 123.

38 Bari, Bassano, Bologna, Capri, Cesena, Ferrara, Florence, Forli, Gorizia, La Spezia, Lecce, Mantua, Messina, Milan, Naples, Palermo, Parma, Pavia, Perugia, Piacenza, Ravenna, Reggio Calabria, Reggio Emilia, Rome, Rovereto, Salerno, Torino, Trapani, Trento, Trieste, Venice.

39 Salaris, Marinetti editore (Rome: Il Mulino, 1990), 213-25.

40 One of the outliers would be the eleven magazines published in 1915, though it should be added that five of them were published as single issues by Oswaldo Bot in Bassano.

41 For this reason, Salaris calls Marinetti “l’ispiratore” (inspirer), the one who enlisted supporters to edit, and often fund, magazines while he handed them out (Marinetti editore, 222-23). Marinetti’s letters to Mario Carli, editor of Roma futurista, are evidence of his power to exert editorial pressure from afar by recommending topics and titles, giving advice on pagination and layout, and providing constant reminders to check newsstands and bookstores for distribution numbers (see Carli and Marinetti, Lettere futuriste tra arte e politica).

42 Salaris, Riviste futuriste, 308.

44 The fourteen issues, several of them misnumbered, came out as follows: Il futurismo 1 (January 11, 1922); Le futurisme 2 (January 11, 1922); Il futurismo 2 (1922) [sic]; Le futurisme 4 (October 1, 1922); Il futurismo 5 (March 1, 1923); Il futurismo 6 (May 1, 1923); Le futurisme 7 (July 1, 1923); Il futurismo 8 (October 1, 1923); Le futurisme 9 (January 11, 1924); Il futurismo 10 (December 11, 1924); Il futurismo 11 (February 11, 1925); Il futurismo 11 (January 11, 1926) [sic]; Le futurisme 12 (November 11, 1926); Il futurismo 22 (January 11, 1931). See Salaris, Riviste futuriste, 307.

45 Quoted in Salaris, Riviste futuriste, 718.

46 “L’Antenna riceve e trasmette le onde di tutti i cervelli creatori ultradinamici. Una centrale elettrica—posta a fianco della nostra stazione—carbonizza tutte le zucche-barbe passatiste.” Quoted in ibid., 50.

47 “The Thirties saw a proliferation of nationally distributed magazines” (ibid., 284).

48 Douglas Kahn argues that in general early twentieth-century responses to radio were mostly rhetorical because the access to technology was limited. See Kahn, “Radio Space,” in Radio Rethink, ed. Dan Lander and Daina Augitus (Banff, Alberta: Banff Centre of the Arts, 1994).

49 Bertolt Brecht, “Radio as an Apparatus of Communication,” in Brecht on Theater: The Development of an Aesthetic, ed. and trans. John Willett (New York: Hill and Wang, 1964), 52.

50 For a detailed examination on the subject, see Margaret Fisher, “Futurism and Radio,” in Futurism and the Technological Imagination, ed. Günter Berghaus (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2009), 229-62. For a more general history of radio in Italy, see Franco Monteleone, La storia della radio e della televisione in Italia (Venice: Marsilio, 1992).

51 F. T. Marinetti and Pino Masnata, La radia: Manifesto futurista, in Critical Writings, 411. The original Italian reads, “destinata a centuplicare il genio creatore della razza italiana abolire l’antico strazio nostalgico delle lontananze e imporre dovunque le parole in libertà come suo logico e naturale modo di esprimersi.” See “La radia,” in F. T. Marinetti: Teoria e invenzione futurista, ed. Luciano De Maria (Milan: Mondadori, 1968), 207.

52 “Questo fenomeno di sentire, di essere in due località così lontane nello stesso istante, non poteva prima dell’invenzione della radio neanche essere sognato.” Pino Masnata, “Il nome radia,” Box 34, folder 1561, Gen MSS 130, F. T. Marinetti Papers, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University Library, New Haven, Conn.

53 In a section titled “Lotta di rumori e di lontananze diverse,” for instance, Marinetti and Masnata write, “Alla radio può facilmente accadere di udire una predica in una chiesa cattolica di Firenze, una predica su Maria, e contemporaneamente udire la musica di un Jazz di un grande albergo di Londra…. Ma la lotta veramente nuova è quella geografica: il fatto di udire contemporaneamente Firenze, proprio Firenze, e non una presunta Firenze, e Londra, proprio Londra e non una presunta Londra.” (Ibid., 34).

54 In 1924, Marinetti recited “Il bombardamento di Adrianopoli” over the radio while planes were whizzing by overhead.

55 Berghaus, Futurism and Politics, 287. In 1933, Mino Somenzi published an article in Futurismo criticizing the EIAR’s marginalization of Futurists from the airwaves. Somenzi, “Futuristizziamo la radiofonia,” Futurismo (January 8, 1933): 18.

56 Fisher, “Futurism and the Radio,” 242.

57 Velimir Khlebnikov, “The Radio of the Future,” in The King of Time: Selected Writings of the Russian Futurian, ed. Charlotte Douglas, trans. Paul Schmidt (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1985), 155.

58 Lucien Febvre, The Coming of the Book: The Impact of Printing (New York: Verso, 1997), 23.

1 T. S. Eliot to Karl Shapiro, London, 6 March 1950, quoted in Dear Editor: A History of “Poetry” in Letters: The First Fifty Years, 1912-1962), eds. Joseph Parisi and Stephen Young (New York: Norton, 2002), 383. In 1929, Morton Zabel made a similar statement about the coming and going of the Dial, the Little Review, Broom, Others, the Egoist, Wheels, S4N, Secession, This Quarter, and transition: “The way of periodicals is strange. By them we trace the ebb and flow of ideas and literary manners. Unless they represent definite official interests or happen to be established on massive foundations, they are short-lived. For every long-established scientific organ or Edinburgh Review, we have scores of brief ephemeral publications, never destined to outlive the small circle or hasty decade which fostered them. Yet, it is usually in these impermanent organs that the vital literary productions of any century find refuge.” Zabel, “The Way of Periodicals,” Poetry 34, no. 6 (1929): 331. When putting together a history of avant-garde magazine design, Steven Heller was under the impression that Frank Luther Mott’s estimate that one million magazines and newspapers had been published in the United States and Europe was inflated until he discovered that it included “countless short-lived magazines” (independent, alternative, and avant-garde), which subsequently forced him to think the number was too low. Heller, Merz to Émigré and Beyond: Avant-Garde Magazine Design of the Twentieth Century (London: Phaidon, 2003), 240.

2 Among them is Ezra Pound’s “The ‘Criterion’ Passes,” British Union Quarterly 3, no. 2 (April-June 1939): 60-72; and Gorham Munson’s “Post-Mortem (on Secession),” which he sent to the press and subscribers after the final issue appeared (April 1924) and had reprinted in Modern S4NReview (1926): 25. On the subject of little magazine’s dying, see Mary Whitely, “Shall We Let It Die?,” Saturday Review of Literature 9, no. 2 (July 30, 1932): 7-10; and Zabel, “Way of Periodicals,” 330-34. In a review of Hoffman, Allen, and Ulrich’s Little Magazine, Paul Bixler refers to the bibliography at the back as “life histories (or obituaries).” Bixler, “The Little Magazine, What Now?,” Antioch Review 8, no. 1 (1948): 64.

3 See Denise Scott Brown, “Little Magazines in Architecture and Urbanism,” Journal of American Institute of Planners 34, no. 4 (1968): 223-33; Beatriz Colomina and Craig Buckley, eds., Clip, Stamp, Fold: The Radical Architecture of Little Magazines, 196X to 197X (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Architectural Press, 2011); Evan Kindley, “Big Criticism,” Critical Inquiry 38 (Autumn 2011): 71-95; Stephen Duncombe, Notes from Underground: Zines and the Politics of Alternative Culture (Bloomington, Ind.: Microcosm, 2014); Ian Morris and Joan Diaz, eds., The Little Magazine in Contemporary America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015).

4 For a complete catalogue of microfilmed magazines, see Little Magazines on Microfiche (Washington, D.C.: Brookhaven, 1977). The page shown in figure A.1 is from a copy of the Egoist that first arrived in the periodicals room at Columbia University in 1917 and remained somewhere on the shelves before getting shipped off again in 1964 to the Photoduplication Services at the Library of Congress, where it was transformed, along with the entire five-year run, into four reels of thirty-five-millimeter film.

5 For a complete list of the titles, see Kraus Reprint, The Little Magazines: Announcing the Reprinting of 104 Avant-Garde Magazines, Including 37 New Listings (New York: Kraus Reprint, 1967).

6 In the 1970s, the Milan-based publisher Gabriele Mazzotta achieved remarkable results with this method, printing small runs of magazines (usually in the hundreds) to the exact specifications of the originals. Another, less expensive option was created by Jean-Michel Place, who had worked as an editor for Kraus in the 1970s before starting his own house. To this day, his publishing house continues to sell affordable reprints of Surrealist, Dadaist, and other avant-garde magazines, paying particular attention to details like color and cover.

7 Digital, digitization, digittle: there’s a necessary distinction to make here. Digitization is the process by which a printed document gets transformed into an image file through the use of photographic technologies like scanners and cameras. The term digital, on the other hand, which tends to get paired with preservation, describes the process by which this digitized material is made accessible to users. Digittle, as I’m using it, incorporates both valences. It is the transformation process and the infrastructure put in place to preserve and make it accessible.

8 When Hoffmann, Allen, and Ulrich compiled the first comprehensive history and bibliography on the subject of American little magazines in the 1940s (Little Magazine), they had to track down full runs housed at the Library of Congress, Yale University, the University of Chicago, the University of Buffalo, Brown University, Columbia University, the University of Connecticut, the University of California, the St. Louis Public Library, the American Antiquarian Society Library, the Ohio State Library, the Princeton Library, the Free Public Library of Philadelphia, the University of Oregon, and the New York Public Libraryifteen libraries in all, and that was just to consult copies and runs mostly produced within a single nation between 1910 and 1945.