REX BEACH

Even the most prejudiced opponent of the moving pictures will admit that

they are becoming more intellectually respectable. Crude farce and

melodrama are being replaced by versions of classic plays and novels;

literature is elevating the motion picture. And Mr. Rex Beach believes

that the motion picture is benefiting literature.

This author of widely read novels had been talking to me about the

departments of literature--the novel, the short story, and the rest--and

among them he named the moving picture. I asked him if he believed that

moving pictures were dangerous for novelists, leading them to fill their

books with action, with a view to the profits of cinematographic

reproduction. He said:

"Well, authors are human beings, of course. They like to make money and

to have their work reach as large an audience as possible. I suppose

that the great majority of them keep their eyes on the screen, because

they know how profitable the moving picture is and because they want

their work seen by more people than would read their novels."

"Do you think that this harms their work?" I asked.

"It might if the novelists overdid it," he answered. "It would harm

their work if they became nothing but scenario writers. But so far the

result has been good.

"The tendency of the moving picture has been to make authors visualize

more clearly than ever before their characters and scenes that they are

writing about. Their work has become more realistic. I do not mean

realistic in the sense in which this word is used of some French

writers; I do not mean erotic or morbid. I mean actual, convincing,

clearly visualized.

"Literature has elevated the moving picture, keeping it out, to a great

extent, of melodrama and slap-stick comedy. And in return, the moving

picture has done a service to fiction, making the authors give more

attention to exact visualization."

"Has American fiction been lacking in visualization?" I asked.

"No," said Mr. Beach. "American novelists visualize more clearly to-day

than they did four or five years ago, before the moving picture had

become so important, but they always were strong in visualization. This

sort of realism is America's chief contribution to fiction."

"Then you believe that there is a distinctively American literature?" I

asked. "You do not agree with the critic who said that American

literature was 'a condition of English literature'?"

"I do not agree with him," Mr. Beach replied. "American writers use the

English language, so I suppose that what they write belongs to English

literature. But there is a distinctively American literature; Americans

talk in their own manner, think in their own manner, and handle business

propositions in their own manner, and naturally they write in their own

manner. American literature is different from other kinds of literature

just as American business methods are different from those of Europe.

"Fiction written in America must necessarily be tinged with American

thought and American action. I have no patience with people who say

that America has no literature. They say that nothing we are writing

to-day will live. Well, what if that is true? It's true not only of

literature, but of everything else.

"Our roads won't last forever; they're built in a hurry to be used in a

hurry. But they're better roads to drive and motor over than those old

Roman roads of Europe. Our office-buildings won't last as long as the

Pyramids, but they're better for business purposes.

"Personally, I've never been enthusiastic over things that have no

virtues but age and ugliness. I'd rather have a good, strong,

serviceable piece of Grand Rapids furniture than any ramshackle,

moth-eaten antique."

"But don't you think," I asked, "that the permanence of a book's appeal

is a proof of its greatness?"

"I don't see how we can tell anything definite about the permanence of

the appeal of books written in our time. And I don't mean by literature

writings that necessarily endure through the ages. I believe that

literature is the expression of the mind, the sentiment, the

intellectual attitude of the people who live at the time it is written.

I admit that our literature is ephemeral--like everything else about

us--but I believe that it is good."

Mr. Rex Beach was not pacing his floor nervously; he was crossing the

room with the practical intention of procuring a cigarette.

Nevertheless, his firm tread lent emphasis to his remarks.

"There is a sort of literary snobbery," he said, "noticeable among

people who condemn contemporaneous literature just because it is

contemporaneous. The strongest proof that there is something good in the

literature of the day is that it reaches a great audience. There must be

something in it or people wouldn't read it.

"The people are the final judges; it is to them that authors must

appeal. Take any big question of public importance--after it has been

discussed by politicians and newspapers, it is the people who at last

decide it.

"A man may have devoted his life to some tremendous achievement, and

have left it as a monument to his fame. But it is to public opinion that

we must look for the verdict on the value of his life's work.

"Take Carnegie, for example; when he dies, you bet people will have his

number! His ideas are a tremendous menace, and the people who believe

as he does about peace will find themselves generally execrated one of

these days.

"It may seem to you that this has nothing to do with literature. But it

has a good deal to do with it. I know that many things have been said

about the effect on literature of the war. But I want to say that the

war will have, I hope, one admirable effect on American writers--it will

make them stir up the American conscience to a sense of the necessity

for national defensive preparation. The writers must educate the people

in world politics and show them the necessity for defensive action.

Americans have a sort of mental inertia in regard to public questions,

and the writers must overcome this inertia.

"The writers must stir up the politicians and the people. There's been a

whole lot of mush written about peace. There always will be war. We

can't reform the world.

"The pacifists say that it is useless to arm because war cannot be

prevented by armaments. The obvious answer to that is that neither can

the failure to arm prevent war. And the verdict after the war will be

better if we are prepared for it. The writers must call our attention to

the folly of leaving ourselves open to attack.

"It's hard to reach the conscience of the American people on any big

issue. We are too independent, too indifferent, too ready to slump back.

That's one of the penalties of democracy, I suppose; the national sense

of patriotism becomes atrophied. It needs some whaling-big jolt to wake

it up. Every American writer can help to do this.

"The trouble is that we have too many men with feminine minds, too many

of these delicate fellows with handkerchiefs up their sleeves. I can't

imagine any women with ideas more feminine than those of Bryan--could

any woman evolve anything more feminine than his peace-at-any-price

idea?"

Mr. Beach smiled. "I suppose I should not be talking about world

politics," he said. "There are so many men who have specialized in that

subject and are therefore competent to talk about it. I am only a

specialist in writing."

"Do you think," I asked, "that writers should be specialists in writing?

Some people believe that the best fiction, for example, is produced by

men who do some other work for a living."

"I certainly believe that a writer should devote himself to writing,"

said Mr. Beach. "This is an age of specialization, and literature is no

exception to the general rule. Literature is like everything else--you

must specialize in it to be successful."

"This has not always been the case, has it?" I asked. "Has literature

been produced by people who made writing only an avocation?"

"Surely," said Mr. Beach. "It is only within the last few years that

writers have been able to write for a living and make enough to keep the

fringe off their cuffs."

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