New York Letter
George Soule.
Easternpublishers have been much amused by the advertising ofThe Eyes of the Worldspread over full pages of the recent magazines. The burden of the appeal to the public is, first, that we have been overrun with immoral books; second, that clergymen, editors, and all other forces of decency are powerless to stop the flood; third, that Mr. Harold Bell Wright has sprung to the front as the great leader against the vicious influence of the other writers by the production of his latest novel; and fourth, that the whole battle will be won if the public will step into the nearest bookshop and pay $1.35 net for Mr. Wright’s book. From the glowing moral tone of the advertisement one might think it the work of an uplift committee; but in small type at the bottom is a copyright notice bearing the name of the president of Mr. Wright’s publishing house. This gentleman is undoubtedly deeply sincere in his admiration of Mr. Wright’s work and its influence, but in this case his admiration has led him to a somewhat ingenuous confusion of moral and business motives. It reminds one of the tactics of the billboard advertising men who, when they discovered that billboard advertising was being strongly attacked by those who object to the disfigurement of our countryside, put up a large number of biblical posters to curry favor with simple religious souls—and were afterwards so injudicious as to boast of their cleverness inPrinter’s Ink.
The effectiveness of Mr. Wright’s plea is somewhat prejudiced by his own case. His novel sets forth the thesis that in order to make an artistic or literary success it is necessary only to resort to flattery and corruption. But his own novels have for some years been far more popular than those of most competitors. Is it pure perversity that makes his hated rivals reject his obviously successful methods in favor of the despicable ones which he so vehemently attacks?
We wish only that someone with an equal enthusiasm for artistically moral literature would try a similar advertising campaign for a genuine artist. Such advertisements might set forth the facts that the bookshops are being overrun with mediocre novels which make successes by pandering to untruth and public prejudice, that the work of genius is in danger of being choked out by the insincere product of commercial writers, and that the best way to promote the interests of good literature would be to buy in large quantities the novels of John Galsworthy or Romain Rolland! But, alas, such a campaign is impossible in a commercial democracy—it wouldn’t pay!
A respectable number of the best publishers have already aroused themselves to the impropriety—or at least to the eventual ineffectiveness—of announcing extreme praises of their own publications even in the critical vein. Surely the book-reading public can’t be made to believe that four or five “great novels” are issued every year. Surely they would be grateful for a little genuine information about the books they are asked to buy. And so these publishers have issued for two years a monthly circular entitledNew Books, which contains descriptions of important new publications without praise of any kind. It would be telling tales out of school to say how carefully the publishers’ copy-writers must be watched in order to prevent them from slipping dubious phrases into their notes. Some advertising men seem to have principles against giving any candid information about what they have for sale. But the task has been accomplished so far, and it remains to be seen whether this civilized form of advertising can make much progress against the advertising vandalism which destroys the effectiveness of all publicity by extravagant statements. One begins to suspect that the effort is pitifully Utopian in a state of economic savagery like the present, where every man’s attention is more naturally directed to his profits than to the honesty of his work. The chances would be better if the majority of the public knew what intellectual honesty is and really wanted it.
There is hope among the magazines in the form ofThe Metropolitan. That is making a commercial success and is also attempting to publish genuine work—not necessarily “highbrow,” but at least genuine. An expert on an important subject recently wished to write a magazine article. The first editor he approached recast the material to suit his own ideas. A second and a third told him that his message was good, but over the heads of the public; they ordered “popular” and ephemeral trivialities.The Metropolitanis the only magazine that wanted him to write, in his own way, what he really had to say. Another writer submitted the outline of an article to aMetropolitaneditor. It was on a subject ordinarily considered somewhat “dangerous.” The editor said: “That is new, and interesting. It ought to make a good article. You must be careful of only one thing. Be absolutely frank. Don’t try to gloss over anything that is a plain matter of fact.” Such directness is astounding to one accustomed to the ways of editors.
An editor has recently confessed to me that now for the first time he begins to believe that the popular magazines may have a really good reason for existence, aside from furnishing amusement in hours of train and family boredom. He thinks that the tremendous events in Europe are likely to bring forth literature of worth and quickened emotion which nevertheless cannot wait for book publication, and that so we shall find use for the more ephemeral medium. It certainly is true that the keen public interest in thewar is likely to decline even before the war is over. We are bound to experience a reaction in favor of reading matter at the opposite pole of thought.
An incredible rumor that Hearst has boughtThe Atlantic Monthlyis as startling as many of the war headlines which occur when no authentic news is available. In spite of the absurdity of the idea, it has possibilities of momentary amusement. What a retribution to overtake the spinsterly Bostonese journal which tries with such a brown and wren-like conscience to be judiciously radical!