Repainting the Treasury

 Though I love this old blog, my unfortunate choice of name (particularly the transliterated Greek in the URL) make this blog hard to remember and hard to find.  So I am porting the whole blog over to Undusted Texts (a new blog, not my old hand-made website).  This blog will remain, in all its old-fashioned glory.  Perhaps I'll get sick of the new-fangled look of the new blog and change it to match here; perhaps I'll be extra crazy and post both here and there.  We'll see what the future holds.  But, no matter what, this blog will remain in perpetuo.

Why Self-Publish Theology Translations?

Theology translations are not the most common works to encounter in self-publishing: the practice is better-known for genre fiction or memoirs.  In itself, though, it is simply a technique, applicable to any kind of written work.

What is it, then, that makes self-publishing appealing, especially for a work of this kind?  It is easier to see when we consider the three main styles of publishing: academic presses, mainstream presses, and self-publishing.

Academic presses are generally connected to a college or university, though they may be connected to independent institutes as well.  Such presses are best known for monographs, exceedingly erudite, often fairly slim, works on highly-specific subjects, sold for outrageous sums.  Typical academic books are priced highly because they have a low sales volume (very few people would generally be interested in reading them, so few sales made); in addition, the most common purchasers of such academic works are libraries at other colleges and universities, not individuals.  It is a sealed-off world of institutions publishing exorbitantly-priced books simply for each other to read.  Many theological translations end up here, being the result of and input for academic research.

This is not always the case: many academic presses will try to aim certain of their books at a wider public, and price them accordingly.  Many major universities—Princeton, Oxford, Harvard, etc.—are well-known for such publications.  These publications probably won't sell at the same volume as those from completely mainstream presses, but they will do well enough; the low prices can also be subsidized by other institutional funds.  (Though not always: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press has its Popular Patristics series, aimed, as the title says, at a wide audience, and the pricing reflects that.  However, the seminary is not rich enough to subsidize these publications, so manuscript submitters need to come with their own funding.  That's why I've never submitted any translations to them.)

Another aspect of academic presses is their institutional quality: generally, they aim to publish works coming from their own faculty.  They might also publish the works of other academics, if there is a match in specialties between academic and press.  Being an independent scholar, I have few-to-no contacts within academic institutions, and so I don't have any hope of publication in such presses.  Academic publications are also, as mentioned above, generally intended for academics alone, and I don't want my translations relegated to the ivory tower.

Mainstream presses are ruled by the marketplace.  A press may have a good intention, a specific aim with its publications, but those publications, at the end of the day, must make money, or the press will fail.  So mainstream presses will often forego books that fit perfectly with the aim and niche of their press, if the book will not be marketable enough.  For a mainstream book is an investment: there is payment to the author or translator; there is the upfront payment for the print run; there is advertising and marketing; there is the whole machinery of press staff to make everything run.  

That being said, there are some presses which, though not academic or institutional in the sense outlined above, may have an endowment or a powerful donor backing them.  In that case, the press may be able to publish the occasional book at a loss, if it befits the mission of the press.  But that is the exception, not the rule.

Self-publishing covers a wide range.  Some endowed or donor-backed presses, like those just mentioned, may be able to forego market forces completely: some donors may decide to treat a press as a money-losing ministry rather than a market venture.  In that case, the press is more akin to self-publishing than to a mainstream press.

Self-publishing in the past could require a hefty outlay on the author's part: he might have to pay for the whole print run, and then hope to sell enough copies to cover his costs (and a bit more).  The modern self-published author typically uses a print-on-demand service, eliminating this large starting cost.  There may be other costs: the author may hire a proofreader, an editor, a layout or cover designer, or possibly even pay for marketing.  But those things are not strictly necessary, unlike with a mainstream press.

If he wanted (and I know a self-published author of this kind), the author could simply do his own proofreading, editing, layout, cover design, and skip marketing.  At the bare minimum, the modern self-published author simply needs a properly-formatted manuscript, and his book can be available for sale.  

Without professional services, without marketing, the self-published author will rarely sell much.  If he is in it for the money, he will need to adopt many practices of the mainstream press, though he will always be at a disadvantage.  The mainstream press has connections with stores, with media outlets, with catalogs; only the rarest of the rare self-published authors is able to obtain a similar level of success as a mainstream press does.  But, because of the huge decrease (or, sometimes, almost complete elimination) of overhead, the self-published author can ignore market forces: his publishing can be more similar to a donor-backed ministry press, one that prints what he likes, what he thinks is worth printing, regardless of whether it sells.

Is the author's goal to make money?  Then self-publishing is an unlikely route: a mainstream press is the best shot (though most authors don't make that much).  Is the author's goal to have his book read?  Again, the mainstream press is the best bet: such a press has many well-trod avenues for getting readers to hear about books, as well as for getting books in libraries.  (Libraries rarely, if ever, accept self-published books.)  Is the author's goal simply to have his work available?  Then academic presses or self-publishing can be sufficient.  If he is a true denizen of academia, he should have connections to academic presses, and those would be his aim; if he is independent, then the ivory towers are locked to him.  Then he may turn to the mainstream presses, but, if they deem a book not marketable enough, then his last resort is self-publishing, or "copyleft" distribution.  The latter blocks out all hope of monetary recompense, and it often means there will be no hard copies of the book, nothing on Amazon, but it makes the work freely available to all with an Internet connection...as long as they're able to find it in the increasingly-hard-to-search Internet.  

Self-publishing is a middle ground between "copyleft" distribution and the mainstream press.  Like the former, it's an "anything goes" rubber-stamp: there's no submissions editor to evaluate a work's worth and marketability.  Hit "publish," and it's done.  Like the latter, though, self-publishing results in tangible books, in the distant possibility of a few royalties, and in access to a few channels to possible readers.  (Some may choose an Amazon-only distribution; with a bit of outlay, a self-published author may get in contact with other booksellers, such as via Ingram Spark's connections.)  That way, the author is able to piggyback on the search presence of big names like Amazon, so that his work has a bit more chance of appearing on a search than if it's only on a primitive, Grecian-named blog.

My goal is to have my work accessible, able to affect others, though I certainly wouldn't mind a bit of recompense (or, maybe, honorarium, if I want my "work" to really be "leisure": Pieper says that the products of leisure can never receive a wage, a recompense, or else leisure itself is overtaken by the "total-work-state").¹  The method for freest accessibility is my blog, with its "copyleft" distribution.  But I run into the issues of unfindability, as well as my pride in wanting to see my name in print.  So I aim for mainstream presses first, to connect in to their distribution and marketing channels (and, I freely admit, to make a bit of money); when that fails, I now turn to self-publishing, for it has the balance of easy access (I'm able to set the cost as I want, though restricted by the need to work around print costs and royalty structures) and a channel for findability—as well as the occasional ducat or two.

So it is that I've begun to self-publish—not genre fiction or memoirs—but semi-scholarly theological translations.  The benefits of self-publishing—ease of start-up, a channel for discovery, the non-necessity of marketability, etc.—apply to me as well as the composer of space operas.  Whether it will be any more effective than my blog for actually getting my work under the eyes of readers is unknown, but it's certainly worth a shot.  God sows even in the crags of the rocks, for good soil may yet be hiding where no one bothered to look.

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1 See Josef Pieper, Leisure and Worship (Muße und Kult), better known by the title of its English translation, Leisure, the Basis of Culture.^↩

Text ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the author.

St. Bruno of Cologne: Commentary on the Psalms, Prologue

 Introduction

St. Bruno (1030-1101) was from one of the leading families of Cologne; after being ordained as a priest in 1055, he was called to the college at Reims, which he led for eighteen years (1057-1075).  After being chancellor of the Archdiocese of Reims for a few years, he began to feel a monastic vocation.  After a brief time considering the solitary life with St. Robert of Molesme (1028-1111), later founder of the Cistercians, he instead turned to the coenobitic life and lived in an oratory in Chartreuse with a few companions: the first Carthusians.  His life of retirement was shattered when his former pupil, now Pope Urban II (1035-1099, r. 1088-1099), dragged him to Rome to act as his advisor.  He was able to refuse the pope's push to make him an archbishop, but he was not allowed to leave Italy, so he and his companions started a new oratory in Calabria, which is where he lived until his death.  

Alongside his teaching work, his founding of an order, and his role as a papal advisor, Bruno also wrote a few Scriptural commentaries.  Below is the prologue to his Commentary on the Psalms.

 

Commentary on the Psalms

Prologue

The psaltery is a kind of musical instrument that resounds from its upper hole.  And, since the melody of the psalms was played on such an instrument, this whole work rightly receives its name from its instrument.  For as the psaltery resounds from the upper [hole], so, too, this whole work resounds from the upper, that is, from the praise of God.  But the intention of this work is shown to be manifold, through the diversity of the individual titles.  For now it intends to prophesy the Incarnation, Birth, Passion, Resurrection, and other acts of Christ, now the salvation of the good and the damnation of the evil, in all of which God’s praises are aimed for.  For in His passion and other works, and in the salvation of the just by His humility and mercy, in the damnation of the impious through [His] justice, praises are found to be there.  Therefore, for good reason, this book is called by the Jews “Book of Hymns,” that is, the praise of God.  For “hymns” were, properly speaking, praises of God set in verse, but “psalms” were composed in lyric verse; so Arator¹ says, The Psalter is composed of lyric feet.

So three things are to be considered, in divine as well as secular books.  For, just as secular [books] tend partly to the physical, partly to the ethical, and partly to the logical, so, too, divine [books tend] towards the physical in some spots, so that physical figures are noted in it, such as the origin of the world in Genesis, and, in Ecclesiastes, many natural things are treated mystically.  And, in some places, logical things tend toward the ethical, like the Book of Job, and Blessed the spotless (Ps 119), and some other psalms.  And in some places, logical and ethical things tend towards the theorical,² that is, towards contemplation, namely, those which contain God’s mysteries, sublime in themselves, and far from common thought, as in the Song of Songs.  In which God is introduced as speaking to the Church, like a groom to a bride, by a miraculous mystery.  So even if, in some places, this book seems to tend towards the ethical, yet it principally tends towards the theorical, especially when it tends toward the mysteries of the Incarnation, Nativity, and other acts of Christ.

Indeed, it should be understood that there are many kinds of prophecies.  For some prophecies are through deeds, like the exodus of the sons of Israel, and their other deeds, “all” of which (so says the Apostle) “occurred to them in figure” (1 Cor 10:11).  Others, through speech: as it is said that God spoke to Moses and many other prophets, through angels, of things to come.  Others, through revelation, as many things were said to have been revealed to Ezekiel and Daniel in portents of dreams.  Others, too, through the hidden inspiration of the Holy Spirit, as David [and] the prophets were intimate with the mysteries of the Lord’s Passion and other acts, not through deeds or acts or some other revelation, but through the hidden inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

It should be noted, too, that, through the excessive agility of the Holy Spirit, the prophets spoke of future things as well as present and past things.  For every future thing is present to the Holy Spirit, and is known as if it were past.  It should also be noted that, when, in the psalms, Christ is sometimes introduced as praying and acting humbly, it is to be accepted in accord with His humanity, and, when [acting] sublimely, in accord with His divinity.  It should also be noted why the first psalm lacks a title, when the others are seen to have titles, namely, because it is to be considered as the title of all the other psalms.  For when, in this psalm, there is the intention of praising Christ, it intimates that, in all the others, He is to be treated of in various ways.  For the intention of this psalm is how Christ removed those three deaths by which the first man came to death, and, on the other hand, to praise Him because of His threefold obedience, which the first man lacked.  And it is the voice considering the prophet’s damnation of the human race, because of Adam’s disobedience, and foreseeing his future reparation through Christ.  And so it says this:

[Therein follows the commentary on Psalm 1]

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1 Arator was a 6th-century Latin poet from Liguria, best-known for a versified history of the Apostles. Remigius of Auxerre (841-908) also quotes this line of Arator's in his Explanations of the Psalms (PL 131:148A).^↩
2 St. Bruno is using is a neologism based on the Greek θεωρια (theōria), commonly used by the Greek Fathers to mean “contemplation.” Since logical and ethical originally derive from Greek roots, it seems St. Bruno wanted to continue the Grecian trend.^↩

^{Source: PL 152:637B-639C.}

Translation ©2024 Brandon P. Otto.  Licensed via CC BY-NC.  Feel free to redistribute non-commercially, as long as credit is given to the translator.