Publishing Chats: Noelle Allen, Publisher at Wolsak & Wynn, in Conversation with Brian Lam, Publisher at Arsenal Pulp Press
A series of conversations about the publishing world focusing on the role of independent Canadian publishers
Brian Lam is the president and publisher of Arsenal Pulp Press. A graduate of the University of Victoria’s creative writing program, he has been with Arsenal since 1984, becoming co-owner of the company in 1992. He is a former president of the Association of Book Publishers of British Columbia, and a former board member of the Association for the Export of Canadian Books (now Livres Canada Books). He currently serves on the board of the Association of Canadian Publishers. He won the Community Builder Award from the Asian Canadian Writers' Workshop in 2014, the Ivy Award from the Toronto International Festival of Authors in 2018, and the Publishing Professional Award from Lambda Literary in the US in 2020.
Noelle Allen: First, could you tell us a bit about Arsenal Pulp Press. When and how did it start, and when did you come on board? Where is the press today?
Brian Lam: Arsenal Pulp Press was started in Vancouver in 1971 by a group of university students and local writers who wanted to undermine and reshape the polite, slightly dull nature of Canadian literature at that time. There were political motivations as well, informed by leftist and even anarchist sensibilities; in the early years, they published political broadsheets and manifestos along with poetry books and novels. They had a self-effacing sense of humour as well; they published a magazine called Three-Cent Pulp (the cost determined by the change left over from buying a “real” magazine).
I started at Arsenal in 1984 as a creative writing co-op student from the University of Victoria. I showed up to my interview in a suit and tie, which reveals how little I knew about the industry. After my first work term ended, they asked me to come back, and then again, and then finally hired me full time before I had finished my degree. It’s been my first and only job in publishing. In those early years, I was one of two employees (and sometimes the only one); money was scarce, so in addition to keeping the press going, I earned extra money typing manuscripts for writers and escorting authors from other publishers on their media tours. For Arsenal, I did everything from reading manuscripts to pasting up book type (using hot wax and a light table) to calling on bookstores to solicit orders.
I was very fortunate to have Stephen Osborne, Arsenal’s founder, as my mentor. He opened many doors for me and invited me to become a company partner in 1992. Stephen had just started the magazine Geist and was slowly leaving the book world behind; I think he was just relieved that someone was interested in keeping Arsenal going. Over the next twenty-five years, Stephen sold his shares in the company to myself and my partner, Robert Ballantyne, who is now Arsenal’s associate publisher. It’s been probably one of the longest publisher succession plans ever, but in the end I’m eternally grateful to Stephen for his support and belief in us.
As a publisher, I’ve always been motivated by my own interests as a reader, so as someone who identifies as a queer Chinese Canadian, early on I gravitated toward books written by members of racialized and LGBTQ2S+ communities. Back in the 1980s, there were very few writers from these communities, quite frankly because there were very few opportunities for them. Mainstream publishers weren’t interested because they were considered “fringe”; those publishers believed that these communities were too small to support them (as if racialized-authored books would only be read by racialized communities) and because media and booksellers wouldn’t be interested (which, in many cases, was sadly true). We started publishing BIPOC and LGBTQ2S+ anthologies that included many writers never before published, such as Queeries: An Anthology of Gay Male Prose in 1993 and Swallowing Clouds: An Anthology of Chinese Canadian Poetry in 1999, which led to long-term relationships with many BIPOC and LGBTQ2S+ authors, including Jim Wong-Chu, Larissa Lai, Vivek Shraya, Ivan Coyote, Casey Plett, Joshua Whitehead, and Amber Dawn.
Of course, it’s no longer the case that BIPOC and LGBTQ2S+ writers are being ignored; today, mainstream presses are embracing them, including those publishers who once turned their backs on these communities. So I guess imitation is the best form of flattery?
NA: You’ve been working in the publishing industry a long time. What are some of the biggest changes you’ve seen?
BL: The business of publishing has become a lot more complicated. I’ve become one of “those people” who refers nostalgically to the past with sentences that begin, “I remember when…” But I think that while technology has revolutionized our business, it’s also made heavier demands on us – the need for books to be edited, designed, and available for reviewers six to nine months ahead of publication date; the requirement for metadata to be constantly comprehensive and up-to-date; the importance of having various formats – print, digital, audiobook, accessible ebooks – available simultaneously. And while the workload has increased, the ability of indie publishers to maintain sufficient staff levels hasn’t. So there’s this constant feeling of not having enough time to do everything.
At the same time, I think the publishing industry is finally waking up to the realities of equity and diversity. The industry is overwhelmingly white, especially at the executive level. I remember being at Association of Canadian Publisher meetings twenty years ago, when the late Greg Younging of Theytus Books and I would be the only non-white faces, and quite frankly, it hasn’t changed all that much. But I think the industry is aware of this challenge and is actively encouraging a more diverse workforce, so that there will be meaningful change in the kind of gatekeepers determining who gets published and who doesn’t.
NA: Where does the 3-Day Novel fit into the press’ history?
BL: It started as an in-house dare among Arsenal staffers in 1977, when the conversation turned to the legend that Voltaire had written his novella “Candide” in three days, and whether any of them would be up to the challenge. No one actually finished that first time, but it spawned a contest that continues to this day. In the 1980s, bookstores featured contestants writing their novels on typewriters in store windows, and during Expo 86 in Vancouver, rows of word processors were set up for contestants writing in front of fairgoers. The contest, which is now run by Vancouver’s Anvil Press, is another good example of Arsenal’s early tongue-in-cheek approach to Canadian literature, poking a stick at the grizzly bear of CanLit.
NA: Vancouver is pretty far away from Toronto, where a lot of the publishing industry is clustered. Have you found there to be challenges running a company from the West Coast? Besides the gorgeous weather, are there any benefits?
BL: It’s been an interesting experience as a publisher based in Vancouver. In my early years at the press, it was definitely difficult to gain any kind of traction with Toronto media, who always considered us as a “regional” press even though we published many writers from across Canada. It was easier for them to pigeonhole us, and thus ignore us, than to actually give our books and authors any meaningful attention. And that’s when they weren’t outright hostile; when our marketing manager presented our list to a power-that-was in Toronto, he waited until she was done and then asked, “You don’t really think you can be taken seriously since you’re based in Vancouver, do you?”
I like to think that our recent critical and commercial successes have meant that we’ve proven our worth, though we still occasionally get stuck with the “regional” tag; it’s still a difficult slog trying to get attention in our national newspapers and from our national book chain/cultural department store. We actually get more love from American media and booksellers, believe it or not. But we love the support we get from Toronto’s indie booksellers – shout out to Another Story, Queen Books, and Flying Books, among others.
NA: Is there anything about publishing you wish more people understood? Such as returns, or how distribution works (those are a couple of my top picks), or something else entirely?
BL: First and foremost, please don’t buy from Amazon. Their business model is predatory at best, and when we add up all their fees and penalties, we make less from each sale than from anywhere else, which means our authors make less.
I also wish more people understood how much work and expense goes into the publication of a book, especially those who complain that books are expensive. For a $20 paperback, publishers receive on average 60 percent of that price (or $12); from this, we pay a distributor fee, a sales rep fee, costs incurred from editing, designing, and printing it, publisher overhead, and an author royalty. It doesn’t take a mathematician to understand that there’s not a whole lot left over as “profit.”
NA: Do you have a favourite publishing story you’d like to share with us? A book that defied expectations or an amazing coincidence?
BL: I have a couple. One is well known, from 2021: the year that, beyond our wildest expectations, we had the last two books standing in CBC’s Canada Reads competition – Joshua Whitehead’s Jonny Appleseed, which eventually won, and Francesca Ekwuyasi’s Butter Honey Pig Bread, which finished second. What was even more gratifying was that a) both books were debut novels by racialized, LGBTQ2S+ authors; and b) both authors were a dream to work with: humble, sincere, and hard working. Of course, prior to the final debate, we couldn’t pick sides, but in the end, both authors won, truly.
Another favourite story is the trajectory of an American book we published in 2016, Sarah Schulman’s Conflict Is Not Abuse. Sarah is one of the smartest people I know, and her book is a complex understanding of how inflated accusations of harm are used to avoid accountability, both at the global level (i.e., Trump) and interpersonal. Sarah’s book had been turned down by a number of respected American publishers, due largely to their cold feet over some of Sarah’s allegedly controversial positions. Sarah then came to us; we already had a relationship with her as we had reissued several of Sarah’s novels in the past. And though she expected us to turn it down as well, we loved it for its daring and its ideas. So this visionary book by a respected American intellectual came to be published by an indie Canadian press in 2016. During the first few months, media ignored it, but then something extraordinary happened – people started talking about it, sharing it, promoting it on social media. It took on a life of its own, and before long the media finally caught on. It’s now sold over 50,000 copies, has been published in France and Italy, and remains one of our bestselling titles. It’s an example to me of the “power of the people” to lead the conversation about what books and authors are important, despite the efforts of powerful gatekeepers.
NA: Finally, any words of wisdom for people trying to understand this strange business, whether they’re new authors or people who want to work in publishing? What keeps you going?
BL: I’ve very fortunate to have spent my entire career at one press; I know and appreciate how rare this is. I started university with the idea of becoming a writer, but soon after starting at Arsenal, I learned that publishing was the best way to expend my creative energies. After thirty-eight years, I’m still in love with the business; I still get excited when I read a manuscript from a brilliant new writer, or when we get a major media hit or award recognition. Best of all is sharing that experience with our authors – there’s nothing better.