(This story was originally written and recorded for Retrocast #29 – Podcast #229, released on November 12, 2024.)
On February 25, 1979, the Boston Globe ran a story about Jerzy Kosinski’s 1969 book “Steps,” which snagged the National Book Award for Fiction. By the time this story had been published, the book had already sold an estimated 400,000 paperback copies, so it was well-known to the publishing world. But “Steps” is no ordinary read—it’s a bit weird, unconventional, and unapologetically edgy. “No one should have trouble recognizing it on a second reading,” quips California writer Chuck Ross. Well, everyone except for the 14 major publishers to whom Ross submitted it as a manuscript to. Not even Random House—the original publisher of “Steps”—recognized their own award-winning book. Oops!
The whole strange saga of Ross’s experiment, carried out with Kosinski’s blessing, was chronicled in the February 12, 1969, issue of “New West” magazine.
Ross’s mischievous plan had two parts. About three years ago, he typed up the first 21 pages of “Steps” and sent them to a carefully chosen batch of publishers. Houghton-Mifflin’s rejection letter explained that they “did not think they could publish it successfully,” even though they had recently racked up praise for publishing Kosinski’s other book, “Cockpit.”

But 21 pages? That’s hardly enough to judge a book, according to some editors—and Kosinski agreed. Kosinski explained to Ross that “Steps” only works through its cumulative effect. Not one to back down, Ross took on the challenge and retyped the entire novel from start to finish.
This time, he submitted it under the gloriously fake pseudonym “Erik Demos” and expanded his list of targets. In May 1977, off went the freshly typed “Steps” to even more publishers. Within three months, rejection letters came flooding in. Seymour Lawrence, the Atlantic Monthly Press, Viking, Knopf—you name it. Doubleday didn’t even bother opening the package (they don’t accept unsolicited manuscripts). Harcourt Brace? They lost it. And Random House held onto it for six months before sending it back with a polite note explaining that it had been sent to the wrong party.
At least Houghton Mifflin tried. Someone there wrote, “Jerzy Kosinski comes to mind as a point of comparison when reading the stark, chilly episodic incidents you have set down.” Unfortunately, the manuscript struck them as “sketchy and incomplete.” Ross’s conclusion? “Evidently, Kosinski is not as good as Kosinski when Demos is the name on the envelope.”
If publishers were bad, literary agents were worse. In October, Ross sent the full manuscript to 13 top agents in New York, hoping for a better response. Nope. More lost manuscripts, more form rejections, more vague excuses.
The most shocking part? Not a single publisher or agent realized they were holding an already-published National Book Award winner. Now, to be fair, publishing houses get swamped with unsolicited manuscripts, and mix-ups happen just like in any other business. Still, Ross’s verdict is hard to argue with: “The present system for looking at over-the-transom material is not working and should be re-evaluated.”
Part of the problem is that when publishers do read unsolicited submissions, they often pawn them off on their least-experienced staff—usually some poor English major fresh out of college. In the end, Ross’s experiment did what it was intended to do: call out the industry’s bias and tunnel vision.
