The State of Book Marketing in 1943: "You Can't Do Business With Hitler" and "The Pocket Book of Boners"

I finally found a used copy of Ruth McKenney’s My Sister Eileen last month. I’m always chasing the high of Cheaper By the Dozen when it comes to light, comic 20th-century family memoirs (like Kathryn Forbes’ Mama’s Bank Account, Vivian Moore Hallinan’s My Wild Irish Rogues, Shirley Jackson’s Life Among the Savages, Betty MacDonald’s The Egg and I). None of them quite scratch the itch, but I remain optimistic.

My Sister Eileen was popular in a way that’s a little hard to believe now – first it was a series of autobiographical New Yorker articles in the late 1930s, then a book, then a straight play, then a musical, then two different film adaptations, one in 1942 and one in 1955, then a sitcom in 1960. For over twenty years this country couldn’t get enough of Ruth McKenney and her sister.

The stories are fun, if a little flimsy – “Hun-gah,” an account of the author’s girlhood elocution lessons is a real standout — but I wouldn’t recommend you run out and grab a copy immediately. If you happen to come across it at a used bookstore, by all means give it a go, but you’re not missing out on a gem otherwise.

The advertising copy for other Pocket Book editions at the end, though – that’s another story. I don’t mean to put down anybody working in book marketing these days, but my God, were the 1940s a great decade for ad copy. There was a perfect balance between the snappy and the sincere. Worldly, but earnest. Addressing an audience that was on the go, but craving literature.

Have we got a job for you: Once you’re finished reading this book, you can simply take your copy to the nearest library and hand it in at the front desk. Tell them to see that it’s sent to our fighting boys overseas. The clerk will know where to send it.

And buy some stamps while you’re at it. But don’t buy much else. Knock off those paper- and rubber-shopping sprees you’ve been on lately. Give them to the nearest Boy Scout, or hand it to a traffic cop; they’ll know what to do with it.

And don’t forget about our boys. They’re over there, and they’re fighting, and they’re boys. They’re ours, too, and they want books. That means their books are our responsibility, because they’re our boys. We’ve got the most, we’ve got the best, and we’ve got it for the least, and surely that’s the least we can do for them. They love it. They can’t get enough of it. They’re always writing to us, begging us to stop buying rubber and to mail them more books.

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The taglines for other Pocket Book editions are exquisite. This is why I believe all blurbs and author bios should be no more than two sentences. Can anyone improve on this?

“MRS. MINIVER by Jan Struther. Meet Mrs. Miniver. She is British. When you read her story, you’ll know why ‘there’ll always been an England!’”

“THE POCKET BOOK OF BONERS. An omnibus of schoolboy howlers—‘Geometry teaches us to bisex angels’—and other bits of unconscious humor.”

“PINOCCHIO by Collodi. The amazing, joyous, and sorrowful adventures of a wooden puppet. A favorite of all ages in all lands.”

“MICROBE HUNTERS by Paul de Kruif. Twelve absorbing biographies of the world’s greatest, most selfless scientists, and the endless search of each to end human suffering.”

“THE BEST OF DAMON RUNYON. As Wodehouse is to the English, so is Runyon to the Bronxese and Brooklynese. Here are 15 stories about Spanish John, Dream Street Rose, and others.”

“YOU CAN’T DO BUSINESS WITH HITLER by Douglas Miller. Mr. Miller, for many years American Commercial Attaché in Berlin, portrays a clear, factual picture of Nazi commerce.”

“THE POCKET BOOK OF WAR HUMOR edited by Bennett Cerf. A collection of war anecdotes, stories, articles, cartoons, including selections from See Here, Private Hargrove; Dere Mable; Private Purkey in Love and War and others.”

“REBECCA by Daphne du Maurier. A young, second wife struggles with the glamorous ‘hold’ her deceased predecessor has on an english household.”

“TOPPER TAKES A TRIP by Thorne Smith. Topper once again indulges in some fast and furious ectoplasmic ecapades with George and Marion Kerby—this time accompanied by the Colonel, Mrs. Hart, aand a dog who can materialize only his tail!”

“CLAUDIA by Rose Franken. A delightful story of a happy marriage.”

“WHAT TO DO TILL THE DOCTOR COMES by Donald B. Armstrong, M.D. The ABC of what you should do, and should not do, while waiting for the doctor in case of sudden illness or accident.”

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And we need more titles like these. A Coffin for Dimitrios —!

DEATH LIGHTS A CANDLE—Phoebe Atwood Taylor

OVERTURE TO DEATH—Ngaio Marsh

THE CASE OF THE SULKY GIRL—Erle Stanley Garner

A COFFIN FOR DIMITRIOS—Eric Ambler

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The end pages close with a run of Pocket Books endorsements from what I have to believe are imaginary soldiers invented by a busy copywriter at 4pm. Or maybe a bunch of lieutenants really took the time to write their thoughts to American mass-market publishers in those days!

“Lincoln studied by firelight — we read on the run, today. Your POCKET BOOKS surely are a break for us busy moderns!” I. . . .F. T. . . .

“Your POCKET BOOK OF VERSE has been my constant companion throughout the Libyan, Syrian and New Guinea campaign. I bought it at Tel Aviv, Palestine, and it is the best value my money has ever purchased.” SGT. F.J. . . ., A.I.F.

“I might mention that your POCKET BOOKS have proved invaluable—reading time is snatched between sessions of moving and simulated fire, and subject to continual interruption by rain, approach of the enemy and of work. Your volumes have withstood the ravages of rain, sun and being passed around the battery, and are in good shape.” CPL. X.S.F. . . ., Camp Robinson, Ark.

“Keep POCKET BOOKS rolling off the press, for I am sure they will play a big part in the victory that is sure to come. Moral must be kept up and GOOD books are one of the many ways to help do it.” PFC. J. . . .K.H. . . ., Charleston, S.C.

“In POCKET BOOKS we find interesting, inexpensive and convenient reading material in a compact form. ‘Keep ‘em printed’ and we’ll keep ‘em read!!’” PFC. K.M.U. . . ., Bakersfield, Calif.

“Somewhere in the depths of Australian jungle, isolated from civilization, where sanity fights a feeble battle with time and blazing sun—are we. A few year-old newspapers and magazines are all taht trickle through to give us hope. Then one day your POCKET BOOK edition of The Door turned up; it was as if our parched dreams of ice-cubes came true: worn, soft, almost pulverized, and black with grime, this literary gem is still handed tenderly from tent to tent, to be read and re-read countless times. S/SGT. Q. . . .Q. . . ., co/Postmaster, San Francisco, Cal.

“Here’s hoping the curtailment of paper and supplies does not interfere with the publication of POCKET BOOKS, as I believe them to be an aid in building up the morale of the nation.” 2ND LT. T.S.R. . . ., Richmond, Va.

“As one of Uncle Sam’s new soldiers, I want to tell you of the many hours of pleasure I spent with your books, reading them while riding on the hard seats of the G.I. trucks, and lying under the canvas top of our pyramidal tents. In two months of maneuvers in La., it was a pleasure to find that even in the smaller towns one or two of the local drugstores would carry your books, towns in which it would have been hopeless to look for legitimate sources to purchase books.” CPL K. . . . G.G. . . ., Fort Bragg, N.C.

It’s worth getting an old Pocket Book edition of My Sister Eileen just for the end pages, come to think of it. You can probably find it on AbeBooks for six dollars, if you hurry. Moral must be kept up.