THE responsibilities of a book reviewer, always heavy, sometimes assume
a gravity which makes it quite impossible for them to be borne on any
single pair of shoulders. We have received a letter to-day upon which so
much depends that we hesitate to answer without requesting advice from
readers. It is from a young man in Pittsburgh who identifies himself
merely by the initials X. Q., which we presume to be fictitious. He
writes as follows:
"As a reader of the book columns of _The Tribune_ I am humbly requesting
your assistance in the matter of a little experiment that I desire to
perform. I find myself highly enamored of a superlatively attractive
young lady who has, however, one apparent drawback to me. That lies in
the fact that she has never cultivated a taste for really worth while
reading. Such reading to me is one of the greatest of life's pleasures.
Now, my idea is this: that this reading taste may be developed by the
reading of a number of the best books in various lines. I have decided
upon an experiment wherein a list of fifty books shall be furnished by
you and a serious attempt made by the young lady to read them. When she
has completed this reading I shall ask her to make a thoroughly frank
statement as to whether a reading habit has been cultivated which will
enable her to enjoy good literature. I would appreciate very much your
furnishing me a list of fifty of the very best books which you consider
suitable for the experiment which I have in mind. The lady in question
has read but little, but has completed the regulation high school course
and in addition has taken two years at one of the recognized girls'
schools of the country."
Obviously, the making of such a list involves a responsibility which we
do not care to assume. We do not like to risk the possibility that our
own particular literary prejudices might rear a barrier between two fond
hearts. After all, as somebody has said, fond hearts are more than
Conrads. However, we do venture the suggestion that if the young man's
intentions are honorable, fifty books is far too great a number for the
experiment which he has in mind. We have known many a young couple to
begin life with no possession to their name but a common fondness for
the poems of W. E. Henley. We have known others to marry on Kipling and
repent on Shaw.
Of course, it would be a great deal easier for us to advise the young
man if we knew just what sort of a wife he wanted. If she likes _Dombey
and Son_ and _Little Dorrit_ it seems to us fair to assume that she will
be able to do a little plain mending and some of the cooking. On the
other hand, if her favorite author is May Sinclair, we rather think it
would be well to be prepared to provide hired help from the beginning.
Should she prefer Eleanor H. Porter, we think there would be no danger
in telling the paperhangers to do the bedroom in pink. After all, if she
is a thoroughgoing follower of Pollyanna and the glad game, you don't
really need any wall paper at all. It would still be her duty to be glad
about it.
But we are afraid that some of this is frivolous and beside the point,
and we assume that the young man truly wants serious advice to help him
in the solution of his problem. Since marriage is at best a gamble, we
advise him earnestly not to compromise his ardor with any dreary round
of fifty books. Let him chance all on a single volume. And what shall it
be? Personally, we have always been strongly attracted by persons who
liked _Joan and Peter_, but we know that there are excellent wives and
mothers who find this particular novel of Wells's dreary stuff. There
are certain dislikes which might well serve as green signals of caution.
A young man, we think, should certainly go slow if she does not like _An
Inland Voyage_, or _Virginibus Puerisque_, or _The Ebb Tide_ or
_Sentimental Tommy_. He should take thought and ask himself repeatedly,
"Is this really love?" if she confesses a distaste for _Tono Bungay_, or
_Far from the Madding Crowd_, or _Caesar and Cleopatra_. And if she can
find no interest in _Conrad in Quest of His Youth_, or _Mary Olivier_
or _Huckleberry Finn_, let him by all means stipulate a long
engagement. But if she dislikes _Alice in Wonderland_ let the young man
temporize no more. It is then his plain duty to tell her that he has
made a mistake and that what he took for love was no more than the
passing infatuation of physical passion.