How much has changed in 120 years?

I've just finished reading New Grub Street, a novel published in 1891 by George Gissing, about the London literary scene. Gissing deals with several issues that pop up all the time on AW--art vs. money, what publishers want, the price of literary fame, and so forth--and though his long-winded Victorian style isn't for everybody, I ran across a couple of quotes I wanted to share for comment.

Jasper Milvain (what names!), a young, none-too-scrupulous writer on his way up, says:

"If I am an unknown man, and publish a wonderful book, it will make its way very slowly, or not at all. If I, become a known man, publish that very same book, its praise will echo over both hemisphere. . . You have to become famous before you can secure the attention which would give you fame. . . . If a man can't hit upon any other way of attracting attention, let him dance on his head in the middle of the street; after that he may hope to get consideration for his volume of poems. I am speaking of men who wish to win reputation before they are toothless."

"The struggle for existence among books is nowadays as severe as among men. . . . the growing flood of literature swamps everything but work of primary genius. If a clever and conscientious book does not spring to success at once, there's precious small chance that it will survive."

Actually, in Milvain's case, it wasn't sour grapes. He was expounding a theory, which he proceeded to put in practice by trying to find a wealthy woman to marry, on whose money he intended to give the parties and entertainments that would make himself known. Up to that point, he'd been fairly successful at smaller-scale networking (as we'd call it today) and was laying out what he thought it would take to reach the next level.