IT is perhaps indicative of the shortcomings of publishing in Scotland that it took the publisher Hunter Steele (Herald Essay, May 23) more than six months to reply to my column in the Scotsman.

Mr Steele says that my view is partial, unfair, and unconstructive. That is his opinion. However, the vast majority of authors to whom I have spoken agree with me about the parlous state of one of our once great industries.

At a time when Scotland's literary stock has rarely been higher its publishers continue to publish tourist-trap pap, sports hagiographies, and tartan kitsch. A look at the current Scottish best-seller list says it all: take away the books published by English publishers and we are left with The Jimmy Shand Story and Gardens of Scotland.

This would not be so bad if class acts were still being published here. But they are not. Four recent novels by relatively young Scottish or Scottish-based writers illustrate the point. Gordon Legge's Near Neighbours, The Sopranos by Alan Warner, Ajay Close's Forspoken, and Pandora's Box by Alice Thompson are all books that should have found a home here. Instead, these highly entertaining and compelling writers are published in England. The same goes for almost any Scottish writer of real merit.

For a nation that prides itself on its literary heritage this is pathetic. Hunter Steele can blather on all he likes about small being beautiful and his own company's unerring (but unproven) ability to steer clear of ''crap'' but there is no gainsaying the fact that much of what is produced by Scottish publishers ought not to see the light of day.

Mr Steele extols Canongate's Classics. So do I. In fact, I compiled the original list of neglected books for the Scottish Arts Council. But I don't believe you can base a vibrant industry on reheating cauld kale. But this, alas, is the one thing Scottish publishers are particularly good at.

One need look no further than Canongate's brilliant ruse of repackaging the Bible. Enterprising as this may be it is no substitute for nurturing a list of indigenous authors and commissioning books that require more than rudimentary research. Time and again, however, the books that one wants to read are not published here.

This should not be allowed to continue and I hope that when the Parliament is up and running it will address itself to the remit of the Scottish Arts Council and the funding of publishing and literature. Much can be learnt from Ireland where writers often have two publishers, one Irish, the other English.

Too much of SAC's budget goes on spurious but well-meaning attempts to fund writers, from bursaries to placements in schools. It is much more preferable, I believe, to back writers with talent and offer them reasonable grants which will keep a roof over their head while they get on with the business of writing.

Similarly the piecemeal approach to publishing urgently needs to be reviewed. When I said that the SAC was pouring good money after bad I meant that publishers were receiving grants for books that did not deserve them and which would not be properly edited, designed, distributed, and sold. I maintain that this is still the case and I refrain from giving examples to protect the guilty.

Mr Steele would like to portray me as only interested in money. He should have a word with my bank manager who will tell him otherwise. However, if he thinks that anyone - even a Scottish writer - writes for anything other than money he is, as Dr Johnson rightly opined, a blockhead.

Alan Taylor,

Managing Editor,

The Scotsman Publications Ltd,

20 North Bridge,

Edinburgh.

May 28.