The Birmingham age-herald., 1922-03-02
LETTERS TO EDITOR
COHEN AND LITERATURE

SA SS'AAS SANSHNiiSo in the Birmingham News about two years ago. purporting to represent character in negro dialect. The name of the character, I believe, was "Florian Slappy." I learned at the same time that similar sketches by MT. Cohen had ap- peared in the Saturday Evening Post.
 For the editor of the Post and the editor of the News and Dolly Dalrymple to conspire to perpetuatc such an offense against the cause of good literature is passing strange. What their motive could be I cannot surmse, unless it because the editor of the Post was born and reared in the north and knew no better and that the editor of the News and Dolly Dalrymple were unduly influenced by the fact that the writer of the sketches is native of their own city.
 No one is capable of writing negro dialect who was not born or reared in the midst of that of people, especially in the south. The writer must be intimately acquainted with the instincts the manner of thought and the mode of expression of the negro, before he can de- liniate his character or follow him in his da- lect. I have never been so much disgusted as by the attempt of northern writers to repre- sent the dialect of the negro of the south, about which they know nothing.
 presume MT. Cohen was born and reared in the south, but why he missed the mark so far in trying to write the negro dialect is past all understanding. His chief mistake was his at tempt to put into the mind and mouth of his character ideas and words far above the lat ter's capacity. But this is a common error found in the productions of most writers of fiction. They lose sghs-of the mental capacity of their characters, and substitute for the same their own capacity of thought and expression
 have never read any of MT. Cohens serious fiction, but if I should judge from the sample given by Dolly Dalrymple, he must be following the grooves made by the writers of the popular fiction of the day. But understand that popular book is by no book of high literary quality. Mr. Cohen may have written some good things, as far as I know but if all of his fiction is like the sample given by Dolly Darymple, you must me for declining to read further.
 If the popular fiction of the day is to super cede the standard literature of our country as it seems to be rapidly doing, it will not be long before our civilization will be destroyed When the/ most powerful element of appeal in the literature of a country is the sex-appeal, is demonstrated on the stage and in the picture show, as well as in the popular novel of the day. it is high time that all who prize the high moral standards of human conduct should sist with all their might the coming of the assault.
 When such title of book as 'The Sweets of Forbidden Fruit" is more attractive to the majority of readers than "A Story of the Ideal Life" country should become alarmed at the approaching fate of it's literature. If it were possible for the dead to take notice of what the living are doing, the spirits of Joseph Addison and Oliver Goldsmith and Washington Irving and Nathaniel Hawthorn would turn from their pursuits in the other world to rebuke with indignation the little faddish and slangy writ CTS of the present day for daring to assault the dignity of pure literature with their little lit erary popguns-
 One of the chief mistakes of the modern fic- tion writer is to put the padding of his book into the pages instead of into the binding. When l take up a book of fiction and find that the first sentence contains from 50 to 100 words, and which sentence contains but vague idea which could be better expressed in 25 words, l cast the book from with disgust and indig nation. But more especially when it begins by stating: Horace Mortimer knocked the ashes from his Havana, placed his left foot upon the table and cast his eyes upon the lovely countenance of Cinderella DeForest, when he put his arm around her thinly draped waist, and then choked and sputtered, How l do love your"
 The greatest deficiency of most of the writers of fiction is that they have but little gray mat ter in their brains. Of course, they are not to be blamed for this deficiency, but rather for not knowing that it exists. blood-shotten brain is not expected to produce rich and vigorous idea, any more than hot and dusty highway is expected to grow vigorous and beautiful flower.
 Another fault of many writers of fiction is they presume to know what their characters are thinking about under all circumstances, and then attempt to express it in language that would delight an idiot. If Shakespeare had burdened the soliloquy of Hamlet with ex nlanations of what his character was thinking about and what were his motives he would have burred and weakened one of the noblest pas sages in all literature Let the writer of fiction merely state in brief and clear man. ner what his characters do and say, but never add to this rigmarole of nothings.
 I trust that Dolly Dalrymple and Octavus Roy Cohen will some day realize what sound lit erature is, and will direct their sprightly minds and pens toward its encouragement. Respect fully, ROBERT T. BENTLEY.
 MeridianviIle, February 2S, 1922.
 ACTIVITIES OF MIR. CHAPLIN