New-York tribune., 1902-08-24
A BRITISH VAIL.

THE TWENTIETH CENTURY TASTE IN NOVELS
From The London Chronicle
That twentieth century taste is no longer the
taste Of the Victorian era, that it is no longer
the taste of even that despised period, the
eighties, is a platitude Then there were still
literary magazines there still a standard.
Then character drawing, emotion, situation,
environment still found admirers To-day none
of these things are necessary for success. They
need not prevent success but they not asked
for. All that Is now required of the writer of
fiction is a certain ingenuity in rearranging
sensational incidents. in reshuffling the old pup
pets and the old plots AS for style. the oftener
he can make use of the ready made phrase the
better 1t will be for him. because the more
pleasing 10 his readers For who are the chief
novel readers OF to-day? The young and semi
educated; the boy in his first situation shop
man or clerk, the girl beginning life general
servant OF dres5makers improver; readers know
ing no language but their own. and of that only
{ smattering.
Such readers repertory of words is small.
his repertory of ideas is smaller still He re-
sentS the appearance of unexpected adjec-
tive an unfamiliar noun is ana thema to him.
He doesn't want TO be tripped up by even a
passing hesitation on his way TO the discovery
as TO why the beautiful Virginia Treherne al
ways 4 mysterious pearl finger stall her
left thumb. or the reason Sir Reginald Wulfstan
invariab bly, followed by a sinister looking
female leading a mongoose on gold chain, and
carrying a weird little amber casket in the
other hand. No; the twentieth century reader
we have in our mind wants to be alternately
lulIed and thrilled by his author. who will hurry
him from one sensation to another and finally
pitchfork him into denouement in reality stale
as yesterdays beer but in which. from a species
of hypnotisn exercised on him during the telling
Of the tale, he finds momentary satisfaction.
A man. in this style of writing, then. never
looks tired. but Jaded; woman never wears
q gown. but is attired in it. You don't hurry
back upon your road. you speed back. Il sped
back is the favorte case and tense. When
you get a letter or telegram you thrust it into
your pocket, after which you lounge down to
the Casino where the other visitors constitute
an ever shifting vortex OF laughter loving pleas
ure seekers If the other hand. you give
missve TO any one else. he. finding time 10
after which he either turns pale death
else swoons to the ground and passes to the
land that lies beyond human ken. This weird
scene is photographed indeby upon the tablets
OF YOUR memory, and you learn later that his
life was fraught with much bitterness, foul
murder having been committed while France
lay helpless beneath the iron heel of the invader
The sad thing is that this is the stuff which is
wanted. this is the stuff which pays. and the
writer CAPABLE perhaps of better things, must
either conform or go hungry. While from the
literary standpoint the educated standpoint,
the majority of to-days sensational fiction is
utterly beneath contempt, a travesty OF human
nature an insult to the intelligence. degrade
ton of the English language, from the com
ruerciaI standpoint il is eminently satisfactory
And when. as appears probable In some rev
years time all literary taste, all literary percep
ton, all literary output, shall be entirely SUB
merged when every writer clothes his borrowed
inventions In the threadbare frppery of the
wardrobe SHOP then ii should be of comfort to
our patriotism to know that this at least was
our work and not another S. that at least
the literary side of the general debacle was OF
British manufacture and not maze IN GERMANY