In the handwritten drafts from which so much of this volume was transcribed, Loy has scope for a real range of dashes: sometimes they are very low or high on the line, sometimes they are broken up into short, repeated hyphens; quite often they are extraordinarily long. The significance of handwritten dashes has become something of a sore point in the study of Emily Dickinson’s manuscripts and poems, and I want to steer clear of unduly fetishising Loy’s dashes here.12 Indeed, Loy’s dashes often stand for an incomplete and unedited thought process. Consider, for instance, the following sentence, which is drawn from the handwritten draft of “The Sacred Prostitute”: “Love — is a feminine conception — spell’t Greed — with a capital G — this is female — alright!” In the typescript edited in Loy’s hand, the same sentence shows a marked reduction in dashes, and a return to more standard punctuation: “Love is a feminine conception spelt ‘Greed’ with a capital ‘G’—this is female, all right!” Although the number of Loy’s dashes usually diminishes as editing gets underway, there can be no doubt that the length of her dashes is meant to signify either an extended pause, or on occasion, an unspoken word. Loy also incorporates some odd punctuation in her writing, as in her essay “Conversion” which includes “++++++++++” as well as a series of exaggerated dashes; in this instance, both of these typographical tics intensify the willful choppiness of her prose. In short, these aberrations quite regularly serve the content of Loy’s work; as such, I’ve done my utmost to maintain these variations in punctuation whenever possible.13
A fidelity to Loy’s revisions is particularly important, as ample evidence exists that she was serious about preserving and perfecting these works: Loy frequently endeavoured to have her handwritten manuscripts typed (and some instances, typed again), she extensively edited drafts both typed and handwritten, she signed her name to many pieces, and she tabulated precise word counts throughout some of her prose, and the stories in particular. A number of these narratives, however, remain incomplete, a problem that is compounded by a degree of disorganisation in Loy’s papers, which contain folders of improperly labelled or unidentified, fragmented writings. With careful sleuthing, I have been able to reassemble some of the stories; whenever uncertainties about narrative chronology remain, or parts of a text cannot be located, I detail as such in the editorial notes at the end of the book.
Everyone who explores an archive becomes a voyeur of sorts; alongside typescripts and handwritten drafts, Loy’s papers yield lists of expenses, doodles, some deeply personal, diary-like scraps, and a constant return to a game whereby she tries to make as many words as possible out of the letters of a single word. As I articulate the ways and means that Loy seems to envision an audience for her work, I’m aware that my claims act as excuse and consolation for what must necessarily be an invasive exercise. But while there are more in the way of Loy’s prose musings in her archive, every piece in this collection is either titled by Loy or bears a title page upon which its contents are summarised; each of these gestures suggests that Loy saw the work as an approximate, functional whole that could be encapsulated. In her essay “Conversion” Loy tells us “[t]he aim of the artist is to miss the Absolute”—so too, by stark necessity, must this be the aim of the editor. While not entire, Stories and Essays of Mina Loy offers insight into the ribaldry, the pathos, the occasional bathos, and the experimentation in Loy’s prose stylings. It is a book that shows us a Loy truly contemplative about, and occasionally sentimental toward, her fellow human beings. Here Loy recognises Picasso’s foundational role in twentieth-century art, takes her male contemporaries to task for their sexism, questions the popularity and limitations of psychoanalysis, ponders ways of rectifying poverty, and tries her hand, ambitiously, at numerous genres. These fictions, dramas, essays, and philosophical and religious tracts affirm and extend what we know about Loy from her poetry: as it turns out, Loy is every bit as astute, original, interrogative, and witty in her prose.
EDITORIAL PROCESS
First and foremost, let me clarify that Stories and Essays of Mina Loy is not, and should not be considered, a critical or definitive edition of these writings. Having said that, the manuscripts I’ve been working from are often handwritten, or are typescripts that have been edited by hand. As Loy did not have the opportunity to view final proofs and corrections, some notation of the changes made to the texts seemed absolutely necessary. In choosing to track Loy’s revisions in the editorial notes, I follow the dictates of the well-known bibliographical scholar, Fredson Bowers, who asserts that the reader’s awareness of textual revisions offers valuable insight into an author at work.14 The need for this insight is inarguably compounded in this collection by the fact that the majority of these writings were left as works in progress.
Scholarly editions track every change made to manuscripts, while practical editions leave those decisions unremarked and in the hands of the editor. In the editorial notes to each piece contained in this volume, I offer an amalgam of these two approaches: I rarely note where I have corrected inaccuracies of spelling or punctuation, and a very few small revisions (regarding prepositions or articles, for instance) are silently incorporated into the text. Nor do I always detail instances where Loy has crossed out words that she reinstates elsewhere. On occasion, the illegibility of Loy’s editing has made it impossible to verify a given change — either through scrawled handwriting or severe blacking out.
However, substantial differences within texts are listed, as are significant editorial alterations; by design, the latter category occurs rather rarely. Changes Loy made to her scripts are indicated by the word “was,” as in the following, from the notes accompanying “Brancusi and the Ocean”:
“evolved by” was “that has evolved through”
Editorial changes are indicated by the word “reads”, and are followed by “—ed.” as in this example from “Gate Crashers of Olympus—”:
“revaluation of values” reads “revaluation values”—ed.
I have made a point of noting changes between Loy’s various drafts when they contribute significantly to the understanding of the gestation of the piece; when these distinctions are included, I have stated as such in the editorial notes. Loy’s marginalia and speculative changes are also listed; Loy occasionally offers an alternate word, followed by a question mark, and these tentative edits are noted, as in this instance, from “Gate Crashers of Olympus—”: