BOOK REVIEWING A LA MODE.

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1252, 7 October 1911, Page 9

BOOK REVIEWING A LA MODE.

It all began with the publisher who ventured to express his opinion, on tho paper wrappers of the book, tihat tho author's style carried a suggestion of Thackeray or Stevenson or T'oktoy, as thocaso might be. The deluge was upon us immediately,/ To-day it is tho rule in publishers' notices that when a story is loose-jointed, sprightly", and at times lingTainmajtital, it marks its author as a worthy successor of Thackeray. When a stary is ropletu wifJi battle, murder, sudden death, and , .antiques adjective?, it has, the charnr. of-Stevenson. When a story deals' with '/real" people, that is, vitili finaaciCTs, politicians, hj"pocritcs, murcrs, dreamers; lovers, and scoundrels, its author is immediately an American Balzac. When a writer ends his dories with a snap ho is our American Maupas.iant. When ho ends them with a laugh, he is our new Mark Twain. When he ends them with a riot he is our American Victor Hugo. When he ends them with a death scene and tears, ho is our American Dkkens. Literary criticism has become simply a matter of identification. It is no longer necessary to say whether a book is good or bad, or even whether you liko it or not; You mwrcly take ths author's thumb-print and by comparison with the originals ascertain whether ho is Bnlxac or Iliackeray ot Dumas. All this is bewildering to many men of an oli'ot generation; bewildering and a. lit painful. Thfy wonder whether congonial incapacity makes tfhem inseira'blo to'the'• fact that the literary.-world to-day reeks with genius, or whether tho deadening hand or time has come upon them. Oiioa upon a time people beb'eved that a I'iokens or a Thackeray comes once in a hundred years. To-day they come at lca-i twice a yenir, in the spring and fall pubIMrinc , sw™, Did we say. Dickens or Balziic? We have- for some t'imo been pant the «feige of invoking these individual eld Titans. To-day we "have writers- of first novels who embody tihe concent ratal essence of th? entire ninetcen-Hi century. For the r-ptty aum of one dollar and twenty cents you can have your choice of half a dozen books, each of which conta'.'ns the robust realism of Fielding, the 'rrac nf J. M. Barrio, the rollicking lmm- • ur of Pickwick, the bravura of Dumas, find the 'ovely sentiment of "Henry Esmond." All these qualities, it will fo noted, the book contains without losing any of tho qualities that appeal so in-tcr't.-ely to the modern American, lots of red blond, lots of notion, lots of Gibson femininity. lots of optimism, ami lots of wliole,°r):ne advice on how to succeed. Our raulvrs of the older generation can only shake their.heads and wonder how tho is done.

But there aro other readers in whom the. awakened emotion is not wonder, but a sharp disgust. These wild encomiums plastered 'on every shoddy novel not only tell lies about tho present, they besmirch tho honoured past. While they aro appraising Robinson's first 'novel in terms of luackeray or Balsac, they are, of course, appraising Thackeray and Balzac in terms of Kobiuson. A viist body uf fiction consumers that do not know their Maiipnsfijiiit or tllieir Tolstoy .will henceforth cherish the belief that Maupassant is very much like Jonos, and t'.liat Tolstoy is.vrrv much likn Brown. The offenco is ethical and it is aesthetic. It borrows from get-quick-rich flnancu tho elegant nssuinption that a sucker is born every minute, ami applies it to literature, thereby emphasising tho primal truth that a book is like a washboard or a sen-ing machiuo cr an insurance policy: you can claim all imaginable virtues for-it and caveat omptor. Under present conditions a book •Iβ not quite as important a commodity as a bottle of patent medicine. The law punwhos the jl-nig manufactuier for misbrandinjr his waxes. But there is no law to keep a bookseller from sending his Goads into the open market labelled Thackeray Extra Choico or Dickens, Fancy Prime.

But the publisher at least makes no presence in the matter. He is out to sell his gonU, ami if a fancy cigoi-latol will 'do the t/'ick it is g.yy\ enoerii lor hi 1. .What, however, shall be said of the professional reviewer who plays the assiduous, parrot w tho publisher's puffs? He imperils the dignity of criticism and of literature. Ho imperils tho dignity of the human understanding. For there need be no mincinfj the matter; tho book reviewer who, month after month, unearths writers with tho charm of Thackeray, with the humour of Dickens, with.the vast insiffht of Balzac, must either be a fool or a liar. It is well enough to be good-natured, to shrink from knocking," to search for tho best that, can bo said in favour of a new book or a new writer. But good-nature should havo its limits in this business. Greater things than ireod-nniure are truth'and tho duty w clear (thinking, and tho duty not to Muddle the minds and the standards of the masses.—New York "Nation."