New-York tribune., 1922-12-24
a Bookman's Day Book sz burton zs.s;


looking than ! expected him 70 be, remem-
bering that he published "sister Carrie more
than twenty years ago. He is tall, without
supcrhuous hesh and only slightly stopped.
his hair Is gray. his eyes deep-set, his cheeks
10 full rs to seem puffy, his lips thick. He
has no gestures and is the most immobile
writer ever saw, apparently capable Of sit-
,irg NJ ease for an hour without moving
q musele His voice is we'll modulated, sof,
and without any nasal quality. Ne speaks
slowlv. with tho average stamtner, and there
ia a certain air Of humility and gen,leness IN
bis bearing. I got from him The same sort
of lmpresslon of dogged, persistent honesty
s,,eerity. frankness and hungry curiosity
obou, life that get from his writings. lie
erected me with the friendly easualness one
has toward friends Of long standing. He had
q sbeaf Of manuscript in his hand and Aiter
he had cot a match for ny cigarette Che
docsnt smoke) he sat down and explained N
n timid and bashful manner that he had been
writing poems and that ne was anxious 70
l,ov what I thought OF them. He said he
,,ould Ike 10 send the batch Of poems ne has
written over long period Of years and have
me make frank notes Of comment on each one
"Tbev are free verse sort Of things" he
said. "Just moods and impressions and at
tempts TO get into few words something
feel about the color and beauty and strange
nos. Of lie. have been writing them of
and on for years. don't know whether they
are any good or not but they are things had
TO write just the way they are written"
asked him 10 read some OF them to me-
knowing that had been much more sympa-
thetic toward Sherwood Anderson's Mid
American Chants" after hearing Sherwood
reeite them than had upon reading them
in "The Little Review; but Dresser picked
out FIVE and handed them to me. had al
most wanted to laugh when he told me he
was writing poetry, so redundant, eaeophan-
Gus and deficient in word yalues is he in his
prose; but these strange pieces had life and
heart in them, like his plodding, eumbrous
novels, and moreover they have the i'm
press Of authentic poetic emotion. Here was
ineluctable sadness with a poignancy in no
way rhetorical, glimpses Of beauty caught
in images from life in city street-aston- /
ishing things, really, yet somehow in char .
aeter, somehow the sort Of fumbling grasps /
OF poetic essentials one would expect Of him .
did one ever think Of him expressing him /
self in verse, free or otherwise.
lie works daily, he told me, from 10 until I
3 or 4, uninterruptedy and without lunehing \
He is still writing "The Bulwark," the third /
volume Of the trlogy which includes The /
Finaneiern and "The Titan and he has also \
written eight Of a series Of fifteen portraits /
OF women, which Is 10 be a companion /
volume to Twelve Men," That book, Twelve |
Men" he said is apparently the best liked /
Of all his books More copies Of IL have |
been sent to him for his signature than Of /
all the others combined.
lie recited to me without bitterness, in
deed with an amused resignation, the re
bufs he had had, the difficulties he still en- ]
counters IN finding market for his writ
ings, the. hostility Of the reviewers, the
trenchant personal abuse that has been I
heapcd upon him gratuitously by critics, the |
hard time he has had in making a living. |
OF the series Of fine and original portraits
ia Twelve Men" he was able 70 dispose OF
only one TO a magazine, although, he said, !
Il hawked them all in every editorial oaiee. |
Everybody said they were no good until after /
they came out in book form and critics here
and there began to praise them. Then /
editors wanted me 10 write more like them"
Dreiser's tenaeity OF purpose in the face
OF all possible odds against him has been
not the least noble aspect Of his writing |
career Against a storm Of critical derision,
moral indignation, the bounding Of the yies |
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