The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1903-02-01
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newest six shilling novel by Mr.. Game,
Miss Corelli, or the next literary bawler
in tho market From morning
till night many Englishwomen do little
but read this precious stuff. What they
get out of it amounts in the long run 10
hysteria and anaemia 1t brings about
a general deadening of the minu ana
general jaggedness of the emotions,
coupled with an utter incapacity to take
any save an exaggerated view of the facts
of life. Discomfort, establishment,
ennuie, boredom, ill-temper, sharp ton
que, and a cynical spirit are other symp-
toms which the shilling novel is
prone to evoke The habit is worse than
opium or haschisch or tea cigarettes 1t
is just the devil, and that is all you
need say about it. The persons en-
ployed in the opium traffic are supposed
to be very wicked. To my mind, the
persons employed in the fiction traffic
are as wicked as wicked can be. When
the foul disease began first to make it's
ravages obvious, there were not wanting
persons who would have checked it and
provided remedies for it. These persons
squeaked somewhat, and nothing more
has been heard of them. So the thing
goes on unrestrained, and even applaud
ed by press and pulpit alike; and the
Englishwoman has become a confirmed
inVeterate, and incurable fiction reader.
If a man have an enemy to whom he
would do an abiding injury, let him per-
suade that enemy to obtain the six most
popular six-shilling novels of the mo-
ment, and read them through. If the
mans enemy sticks to his bargain-at
which, however, he will probably ship in
the middle of the second volume-the
chances are that he gets up from that
reading a broken and spiritless man. His
brain will be as soggy as sponge full
of treacle. and his vision as unreliable
as that Of the alcoholholist who always
saw two cabs, and invariably got into
the one that was not there.
Seriously, however, what is there
about this English fictiOn--or, for that
matter, about Scottish fiction-that men
and women should buy it and devour it
to the exclusion of all other literary fare?
1t is ill-written, it is not original it is
not like life it is not beautiful, it is not
inspiring. it does not touch the profound
emotions, it means nothing, and it ends
nowhere.
"Some months back a considerable
hubbub arose in English literary circles
because M. Jules Verne had been saying
to an interviewer, that the novel as
form of literary expression was doomed,
and would gradually die out of popular
favor. 1t is safe to say that, in the eyes
of sundry critics of pretty we'll every
nationality, the novel has been doomed
any time this last fifty years. Yn+ the
it was reduced in price to six shilling in
England it has undoubtedly deteriOrated,
not only as a piece Of writing, but also
in the matter of ethical intentions. SO
long as it remains the prey of some of
its latter-day exploiters, so long will it
continue to deteriorate. So long as the
English mind continues to be feeble and
unwholesome, and to yearn for artificial
thrills and undesirable emotions, so long
will English fiction continue to be of its
present decadent quality. AS the CAPT.
talist says, it is all a question of supply
and demand. The great aim of writers
of fiction, or at any rate of ninety-nine
per cent. of them, is to produce an ar
ticle sthat will sell. You must turn out
what the public want, and they will as
suredly buy it. The knack of hitting
the public taste looks easy to acquire,
and the fictionist strives after it with
all his might Many are called to make
fortunes out of novel writing; few are
chosen. But nobody can examine the
work of those fey without perceiving
that for veal or woe-principally for woe
they know their business.
"Of course, it goes without saying that
a very considerable amount of fiction is
published in England which is just as
mild and just as innocuous as timed
milk. To this pulling variety of fiction,
however, the English do not appear to be
very greatly drawn. 1t crops up with
great regularity every publishing sea-
son, it is solemnly reviewed in the
Icritical journals, and it even stands
shoulder by shoulder with a stronger
meat in the bookshops. But the fact re-
mains that it does not sell; to see Second
Edition" on it is the rarest occurrence.
In fine, the English will have their fic-
ton spiced, and highly spiced, or not at
all. Mealy mouthed writer's, oVer-reti
cent over-blushful, over-austere writer's,
they do not want neither have they any
admiration for a writer who is plagued
with a feeling for style, and who may be
reckoned an artist in the collocation of
words Their much Wanted Meredith
has never had the sale of Crockett or
a Berrie or a Hooking, or for that mat
ter, of a ]. *. Jerome. The English have
little or no literary taste, little or no
literary acumen, and they expect their
fictionists to give them anything and
everything save what is edifying