Evening star., 1936-05-16

apparently during the last twelve
month, if Mr.. O'Brien's present vol
ume is to be taken as criterion. In
stead of a grotesque menagerie Of
literary animals, uttering incompre-
hensible grunts, chirps and walls, q
sort of sideshow of deformities of
composition, displaying self-inflicted
malformations in the name of art, we
have here q group of tales of an al
most unvarying conventionality, digni-
FED. trite and eminently respectable
by any standard. The shock is al
most more than critical consciousness
can bear.
There are 80 stories in the group.
Nine are from Story, two from the
American Mercury, and two from
Pictorial Review. Other periodicals
presented by single tale are Red
Book, Harpers Bazaar, Harpers Mag
azine. London Mercury. Scribners.
International Literature, Esquire,
Frontier and Midland, New Masses,
Virginia Quarterly Review, Vanity
Fair. Atlantic Monthly, American Pref
aces, Saplings, Literary America and
the New Yorker. One story has not
been previously published in a mag
aZine.
One has to feel certain admiration
for Mr.. O'Brien in his capacity Of
gatherer of representative work. If
he had published his collection under
different title, as, for example,
The Average Short Story 1885," one
could subscribe to his selection whole
heartedly. But-the best stories?
Thirty best stories? There are hardly
more than 80 distinguished stories in
half as many years.
The average struck here is the
average that one finds currently in
the quality magazines. That is to say.
the stories are neat, obvious and
rather more inclined to have q point,
or, If you prefer. plot, than has been
customary for some years past. One
Of them can be called q fine piece of
work. Six others, by latitude Of judg-
ment, can be called above the ordinary
quality" level. The rest are the
usual fare. Why they should have
been chosen instead of any of hun
dreds exactly like them is q question
which only Mr.. O'Brien can answer.
One supposes that he happened to
like these most.
The fault of the assemblage would
seem to be twofold. The chief sin,
and certainly the commonest one, is
in q lack Of finished intensity of writ
ing. Few Of the tales cause the reader
to feel that the writer cared about
his theme. In few more 1t should
seem that he cared SO much that he
has fallen into over-writing. But
that exact beautiful tension which the
perfect story has, from its first word
until its last, that tension which
causes one to feel that the author is
paying out his line with deliberate
mastery and knowledge-not han
ding it with indifference, nor with
reckless abandon flinging everything
overboard-that Is singularly lacking.
In the stories that are not over
written there is perceptible a me
chanical quality Of construction, as II
the material used were building blocks.
Needless to point out, q thing of
blocks will 60 down ut . slight push.
Publication In q quality" periodical,
of course, carries with It immunity to
most pushes. Who, for example, would
push the Atlantic Monthly? But
this singing out for volume appear
ance makes the weakness painfully
evident.
The other sin would seem to be q
wistful hankering on the part of our
writer's to be ''ironical." Maybe they
took short story courses in college.
Anyway, they oil seem to have heard
somewhere that irony Is the thing.
Look" they seem to say, "you can't
fool US: we know that the laughing
mask conceals q grinning skull. And
will we uncover it9 Oh. boy! Just
watch us!"
And so they set the mechanism