"I don't like the publicity part," she sighed, and added as she read, "Oh, this is ridiculous, I won't have it."
"My dear, you'll find that advertising is the most important thing in art these days. This kind of thing is nuts and ale to your publishers."
"But, Jerry, how can it be? All this silly, untrue stuff about my private life."
"That's what they want. The D. P. care much more for your private life than it does for your work. The more they know—or think they know—about it, the more willing they are to buy what you have to sell."
"It's disgusting; it debases art."
"So it does; it also popularizes it."
"I suppose that is what we want, isn't it—a democratic art?"
"Yes, if artists are to live. But it has to be spoon fed, with a rich sauce of personality to get it down their throats," he grumbled.
"But my book isn't the popular kind—only a few people are going to read it—so why do I have to go through this cheap advertising? It will disgust the people who might read me, and the people it might attract will never read me."
"Don't expect the advertiser to have any judgment, Jane. All kinds of soap and all kinds of books are alike to him."