A BRILLIANT AND NOTORIOUS EXPERIMENT, whose implications for literary teachers and scholars have not been realized, was recently conducted by Chuck Ross. He simply typed up Jerzy Kosinski's novel Steps, which had been published in 1968, had won the National Book Award in 1969, had sold 400,000 copies and was still in print, and sent the typed copy under a false name to fifteen publishers and fifteen agents, as if it were a new submission by an unknown author. Without exception, all-including the novel's actual publisher-rejected the work, usually on the basis that it was inferior. Ross concludes his case against the selection process of the commercial publishing houses with some interesting statistics. According to him, Viking published only one unsolicited manuscript out of approximately 135,000 that had been submitted to them in twenty-seven years, and Random House's score was one published unsolicited manuscript in twelve years, out of 60,000 to 70,000 submissions. As Ross comments, he can scarcely believe that more of these manuscripts were not worth publishing.' For the university literature teacher interested in the health of his own field, Ross' work implies two major and unpleasant questions. First, how many unpublished works of literary of past and present periods have we as scholars missed totally because they died in the clutches of commercial publishers' readers, or because we allowed them to die from other causes? And by high literary quality I mean highbrow works of poetry, drama, fiction, and non-fiction that deal with human thoughts, emotions, and affairs with sensitivity, depth, and seriousness; I do not refer to the works of popular literature which currently receive so much attention from university critics and teachers and presses, whether deservedly or not. We seem to assume that a book is worthwhile only if it finds a commercial or university publisher, because we devote ourselves exclusively to books that have been so published. We even seem to prefer, for teaching and writing purposes, a published popular work to a serious but unpublished or privately published literary attempt. Yet, as Ronald Sukenick has recently pointed out, anyone who really wants to know