By Walter Littlefield.
About 60,000 volumes are annually published in Germany, France, Italy,
Great Britain, and the United States. Germany heads the list, with
something less than 25,000, and the United States ends it, with
between five and six thousand titles, although it should be added that
Continental figures refer to all material bearing an imprint published
for circulation whether pamphlet or book. Aside from purely scientific
and specialistic publications those intended for public perusal of all
grades of literacy and intelligence may be classified as history,
biography, travel, _belles-lettres_ (including art, criticism, and
poetry), and fiction. It is the work of the literary critic to write
about these books in such a manner that neither the author nor the
public may suffer injustice by their purchase or non-purchase. The
critic must explain their purpose, point out their merits and
imperfections, and compare their features with the features of other
books on the same subject. In short, he should tell the public whether
to read the book or not. He should do so in an entertaining manner.
Now the way this end is achieved in America often excites the derision
of the literary foreigner; for although most American reviews are
readable enough, they often lack the critical emphasis and literary
scope and color so conspicuous in the literary criticism of the
British and Continental reviews. But the foreigner overlooks the fact
that American reviewers usually have something to say about every
publication which claims to appeal to a reading public, and that many
of these would be absolutely ignored by foreign critics, who are
possibly right--when we consider their readers--in selecting only what
they deem worthy of their knowledge and critical acumen. The foreign
man-of-letters' idea of what should constitute the functions of the
critic I find most admirably laid down in Mr. Arthur Symons's
introduction to a new edition of Coleridge's "Biographia Literaria" in
Everyman's Library. Mr. Symons writes:--
The aim of criticism is to distinguish what is essential in
the work of a writer; and in order to do this, its first
business must be to find out where he is different from all
other writers. It is the delight of the critic to praise;
but praise is scarcely a part of his duty. He may often seem
to find himself obliged to condemn; yet condemnation is
hardly a necessary part of his office. What we ask of him
is, that he should find out for us more than we can find out
for ourselves: trace what in us is a whim or leaning to its
remote home or centre of gravity, and explain why we are
affected in this way or that way by this or that writer. He
studies origins in effects, and must know himself, and be
able to allow for his own mental and emotional variations,
if he is to do more than give us the records of his likes
and dislikes. He must have the passion of the lover, and be
enamored of every form of beauty; and, like the lover, not
of all equally, but with a general allowance of those least
to his liking. He will do well to be not without a touch of
intolerance: that intolerance which, in the lover of the
best, is an act of justice against the second-rate. The
second-rate may perhaps have some reason for existence: that
is doubtful; but the danger of the second-rate, if it is
accepted "on its own merits," as people say, is that it may
come to be taken for the thing it resembles, as a wavering
image in water resembles the rock which it reflects.
Obviously, here in America we have a sympathetic tolerance for the
"second-rate." But such tolerance is not without its excuse. The fault
of the uncritical element in many of the book notices which appear in
American newspapers and magazines lies to a large extent at the door
of the author who gives us material which humiliates and silences
criticism, although a certain expository attention must be given for
the very fact that the book invariably has a public awaiting it. For
such gratuitous attention the author should be grateful. At least his
public is not misled.
Literary criticism is a distinct department of literature, with its
functions and limits as clearly defined as are those of any of the
creative departments,--history, biography, fiction. It presupposes on
the part of the writer the possession of a knowledge of permanent
literature, of the rules of literary construction, of trained taste in
selecting models, and of a quick imagination capable of perceiving
pertinent comparisons and setting forth vivid impressions. Writers
like Lessing, Victor Cousin, Matthew Arnold, and Jules Lemaitre have
exercised in criticism a system which is quite as capable of
exposition and analysis as that of the historian, the poet, or the
novelist. In America this system has also done its best, without
entirely prostituting its art, to meet the exigencies and claims of
pseudo-literary production and its sympathetic, impressionable public.
Until within quite recent years there were only two acknowledged
schools of criticism: the scientific and the classical. The former
gauged the work to be criticised by rule and measure; the latter
compared it with models which had long been established as criterions
of good taste. Then came the impressionistic school, in which the
critic, while not unmindful of accepted and approved rules of
construction and expression or of classical paradigms, allowed the
author more license, more individuality, and permitted himself the
same freedom in noting a thing good, bad, or indifferent, because it
so appealed to his personal taste at the time of perusal and quite
independent of what had gone before. This impressionistic criticism is
essentially a personal view, and without it very few current books
could be considered critically at all.
Now of the 5000 odd books annually brought out in the United States
there are possibly not more than 100, including half a dozen novels,
which are worthy subjects for the professional critic. If this be
deemed an exaggeration, one has only to look over the Publishers' List
of twenty-five years ago and see how many books then published are
read to-day. Why, then, do the 4900 receive any attention?
Books, like every other commercial commodity, whether presented under
the guise of art or science, have their production regulated by the
law of supply and demand. The ability to read print in the United
States is pretty general, and this ability is diffused among all sorts
and conditions of people of vastly varied ideas as to what may give
instruction, satisfaction, or pleasure in the form of books. We know
that a large majority of the people who read do not read what is
considered the best. The enormous circulation of the "Yellow Press,"
the low literary value of books of rapidly succeeding phenomenal
editions, prove this. Criticism, except in acknowledged "literary"
reviews, has been obliged to take into account the mental limitations
and tastes of the readers of the 4900 books, and so it fixes its
standard of popular exposition and elucidation at a little above the
average taste, and does its best to explain according to the author's
own lights what to criticise would be remorselessly to condemn.
But do all the one hundred worthy and elect books receive correct
treatment according to the tenets of criticism? it may be asked.
Probably not at every hand and in all cases. And here may be
introduced another cause of the lack of proficient literary criticism
noticed by the literary foreigner in American magazines, and
especially in those pages of the daily and weekly press devoted to
books. The discussion of books which once occupied several pages in
American monthly magazines is now principally confined to the books
issued by the publishing house which also publishes the magazine. What
has come to be known as the "news value" of books cannot suffer a
review of a novel by a prominent author or of a book on a current
political or sociological topic to appear a month or two or three
after the publication of the book itself. The eagerness of the public
can hardly wait for an elaborate review in the press. Thus the
newspapers rival one another in setting before their readers the first
"news" of the book. It is usually impossible to expect "criticism" in
such active circumstances. The public neither expects nor desires it.
This leads to expositions in which are incorporated generous citations
from the book, and from this the public is invited to form its own
opinion. When such an exposition is properly done, a reader can tell
whether he wishes to peruse the book as a whole. In late years this
system of exposition has been growing in popularity,--a popularity no
doubt augmented by the reader's increasing desire to be his own
critic,--so now only the more important historical, biographical, and
travellers' books receive expert criticism. Why wait months to get
expert opinion on a popular book on Russia, Ibsen, or a journey in
search of one of the poles, while the public is impatient to find out
simply whether the book is entertaining? And again, how expert is
expert opinion? I know of one famous biography of a famous man which,
having been accepted as "the" authority for five years, finally had
its pretensions demolished, its citations proved a mass of forgeries,
by one tireless and persevering critic who would not accept the
"expert" opinion which lauded it to the skies shortly after its
publication.
Now that criticism, or rather the lack of it, has been explained, it
may be of some interest to learn how the vast number of books which is
annually put forth is handled by the editors of literary reviews and
the "book pages" of the daily press. Having for nearly ten years been
connected with the literary supplement of a New York daily which
prides itself on ignoring nothing which is published with the idea of
being read, my experiences for observation have been somewhat unusual.
The increase in the number of books, and the eagerness of the public
to learn about them at the earliest possible moment, have caused the
daily press to usurp some of the functions formerly enjoyed by the
monthly reviews. The latter do little more than mention the vast
majority of publications and confine more and more their critical
talents to what they consider conspicuous and distinctive literary
productions. Purely literary periodicals have come and gone and left
few mourners. The pages of The Bookman, for example, are no longer
confined to literary criticism, to essays on bookish topics, to gossip
of author and publisher.
There are four distinct publishing periods in the book world. The
early spring season, principally confined to those books which could
not be made ready to meet the recent holiday season, and to routine
books,--books which on account of copyright exigencies have to be
published then, books which for prestige the publisher would have bear
his imprint, etc. Then comes the late spring season, which is
principally confined to novels of the lighter sort and to books for
supplementary school reading for the coming autumn. Toward the end of
August the first Holiday books usually make their appearance. They
increase in number until the end of September, when there is a lull.
From the middle of October until the end of November there is a
perfect outpour of books. The months of November and December until
Christmas Day are the busiest times in the year for the reviewer.
As the books come in they are carefully looked over by the one who is
known as the "critic" of the review or paper. He has men and women on
his lists whose pens he has tried before--they may be lawyers, college
professors, sportsmen, society men, professional novel readers, etc.
He considers the author of the book at hand, its seeming importance,
etc., and despatches it to a critic. An expert writer of expositions
is usually ready to relieve him of volumes upon which for some reason
he does not feel justified in requesting expert opinion. Occasionally
he makes a mistake by giving out for exposition a really important
book. The expert who has been impatiently waiting for the volume
points out the error. The work of a well-known novelist is usually
sent to a critic who is familiar with former tales by the same author.
Juveniles are handed over to one of proved sympathy with stories for
boys and girls--one who is conservative yet quick to catch a new
element. Books that are essentially for gifts are disposed of in a
similar manner--to one who has proved his or her ability to set forth
artistic features in books. New editions of classics are turned over
to writers who are acquainted with the mechanical make-up of a book,
so that the reader may learn whether the new edition of the favorite
author is well bound, printed, and appropriately decorated and
illustrated. And among the hundreds of "brief notices," expositions,
impressions, descriptions, and long and short essays that are handed
in, there are invariably some pieces of valuable comment which are
well in keeping with the traditions of professional criticism. The
critic usually returns the book with his article. These books are
ultimately collected and disposed of in various ways. They may be sold
at auction to members of the staff, which is an effective way of
getting rid of them just before Christmas.
Is there any likelihood of an improvement in literary criticism--any
chance of a return by the daily press to what the Reviews of the past
gave and those of England and the Continent still give? The standard
of criticism is determined by two forces: the quality of books and the
taste of would-be purchasers. If every book were really "criticised,"
the criticisms of many would be utterly incomprehensible to many of
their possible readers. The public gets the books it desires; the
books receive the attention they deserve. When the standard of reading
shall be raised, so that the public shall demand better books, it will
be found that more books will receive "serious" attention. As it is at
present, the public does not desire much elaborate, fine criticism.
It, together with its favorite authors, would be sorely dissatisfied
if it got more. It may be added that, in my humble opinion, the
function of a critic as an arbiter of literary taste is measurably
overestimated. Of course, a man who has won distinction as a judge of
books and who signs his articles may have some influence. But it
seems to me that the function of the anonymous reviewer should begin
and end by explaining the book and let the public be its own critic.
It will certainly be in the end. For no critic ever killed a good
book; none ever praised an unworthy volume into success and fame.