Elizabeth Jordan's autobiography tells the story of her life as a pioneering woman journalist, from her early days as a lowly reporter at the New York World to her editorship of Harper's Bazaar in the early 1900s.
Elizabeth Garver Jordan (May 9, 1865 – February 24, 1947) was an American journalist, author, editor, and suffragist, now remembered primarily for having edited the first two novels of Sinclair Lewis, and for her relationship with Henry James, especially for recruiting him to participate in the round-robin novel The Whole Family. She was editor of Harper's Bazaar from 1900 to 1913.
Elizabeth Jordan entered my consciousness in a slightly tangential way, as the author of an obscure semi-autobiographical series of books about the lively doings of a girl at a mid-western convent school (May Iverson: Her Book is the first). This is because boarding school stories are one my things. Jordan was actually far better known (in her time, not so much now) as a newspaper woman and the editor of Harper's Bazaar, and later, an editor and consultant for Harper's book publishing arm.
On the whole, I enjoyed this autobiography, which covers the highlights of her career. I felt at home because she was friendly with a number of authors who I feel I am the only one who knows anything about anymore, including Agnes Repplier, Josephine Daskam Bacon, and Alice Brown. She also mentions a lot of people I wasn't familiar with, and as I read I was glad to have close at hand my much thumbed copy of Reader's Encyclopedia of American Literature, which has detailed entries for many of the 19th century newspaper men whose names she casually mentions as though everyone knows who they are (there's also an entry for Jordan herself). Some of her anecdotes are funny and were used in her fiction. Her account of the publication of The Whole Family: A Novel by Twelve Authors, of which she was the editor, makes me wants to read it to see if it's as much of a mess as she says. Curiously, she doesn't mention a similar project written a few years later but with only women authors, Sturdy Oak.
By the end though, I was a little weary of the name dropping and the constant self aggrandizement, bolstered by the inclusion of many letters from such authors as Frances Hodgson Burnett (who was a good friend) and Sinclair Lewis (whose first book she published) singing her praises. There was also a rather impersonal tone -- I found myself wanting to know more about her private life, but of course she wasn't setting out to write that sort of book.
I'm glad to have read this, but it's not one I'm likely to reread.