SHOULD WRITERS BE ENCOURAGED?

New Zealand Listener, Volume 9, Issue 233, 10 December 1943, Page 8

SHOULD WRITERS BE ENCOURAGED?

(Written for "The Listener" by

A. R. D.

FAIRBURN

HE old question of giving encouragement to New Zealand writers came to the surface again recently in the correspondence columns of The Listener. I have no wish to take sides in the particular controversy, but I can’t resist the impulse to say something on the general question of writers, reviewers and readers, with particular reference to New Zealand. Consider first of all the idea that our reviewers should give specially favourable treatment to local writers. I know all the arguments in favour of it. "This is a young country, and we are trying to build up a literature. .. . Our writers work under the natural disadvantage of catering for a small public, and should therefore not be trodden on _ too heavily ... ." And so on. But when all this has been said, I still find that idea a little offensive. Isn’t there something insulting in the adoption of a double standard of criticism? Whenever I have received the impression, in reading notices of my own writing, that the reviewer was conscientiously trying to avoid hurting my feelings, I've always felt as if I were being given underhand serves at tennis. New Zealand reviewers are, in my experience, too generous. The policy of giving everything local a pat on the back is one that does no service to our literature. If it has any effect at all, it is to encourage an undiscriminating public to be still more uncritical in its tastes. Let Criticism Be Intelligent If our book reviewers are to be critics-and I am very much in favour of it-then they can make themselves most useful by trying to build up intelligent standards of criticism. If this involves the writing of "bad" (meaning unfavourable) reviews, then this is all to the good, so long as the critics are conscientious and intelligent. I can’t see that any real harm can be done by an unfavourable review, so long as it can be related to some respectable standard of criticism. For instance, I have seen some of D. H. Lawrence’s -writing subjected to penetrating adverse criticism by a-Catholi¢ critic. The effect of the criticism was not to demolish Lawrence, but to give me important bearings on his position, and allow me to "place" him more accurately. Whether he was in my opinion deraolished or not was dependent on whether I accepted or rejected the Catholic viewpoint. Criticism that has no basis other than the critic’s personal fads and prejudices is obviously of little value-for which reason it will have little effect in the long run, The worst thing our journals can do with New Zealand writing is to ignore it completely. The next worst is to praise it indiscriminately. If they ignore it, while paying attention to overseas

writing, then the growth of a solid body of New Zealand literature will be retarded. I had rather they savagely attacked everything of local’ origin than that they should take no notice of it at all. If, on the other hand, they praise it immoderately, the effect will be to encourage writers in their vices; and that, too, will retard the growth, of a literature. If the public is to be seduced by flattering reviews, into reading a lot of second-rate stuff, then its reaction will be one of disappointment and possibly resentment. It will end by despising all local work. If New Zealand writers are to be read by New Zealanders, they will get recognition in only one way, and that is by doing good work. This is where good critical standards are important. Public taste can be kept up to the mark to a great extent by intelligent reviewing. One of the necessary conditions of good reviewing is that the critic shall be worthy of the book he is dealing with. Poe said to some reviewer or other that "he knew no more about literature than a poulterer does of a phoenix." Such critics shouldn’t be let loose on the public, and it is the responsibility of editors to see that they aren’t. But intelligent reviewing, even if it is hostile, will always be useful to writers as a whole, because it helps to maintain objective standards of criticism. Shoot the Pianist If Necessary If somebody a8ks me what I mean by "intelligent" reviewing, I'll try to give them an idea. When we read a review of a book of modern verse in which the writer complains that the poet "has no sense of beauty," or that he "deals with ugly and unpleasant things," or that his verse "doesn’t sing," we may be almost sure that the reviewer is a dunce. He is almost certain to be basing his opinion on an inadequate knowledge of English literature. Apart from that, criticism of this sort is usually quite worthless, because it begs all the relevant questions. Perhaps the verse wasn’t intended to "sing"; much of the very greatest verse doesn’t, you know. And the poet’s "sense of beauty" (dreadful expression!) may be based on something other than an appreciation of poetical candy, and a belief that it is the function of poetry to chloroform people. A reviewer, of this sort gives himself away by the phrases he uses. He has probably*no better critical apparatus than a sweet tooth and a distaste for facts. Writers don’t benefit by being treated as household pets. Let us suppose, however, that we are going to make it a matter of national policy to give them every possible encouragement; then why not’ go the whole hog? Nearly every local industry. in New Zealand enjoys tariff protection. Those who make their living by manufacturing boots, for instance, are given a virtual monopoly of the boot trade by the imposition of a high tariff on the imported article. There are numerous people in the ‘Dominion who are trying to make a living by writing. Why shouldn’t all overseas novels carry a heavy tariff, too? (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) Why should Aldous Huxley and Compton Mackenzie be allowed to take the bread out of their mouths? That question shouldn’t need an answer, but nevertheless, I’m going to try to provide one, just for the sake of setting down certain things that I believe to be important, Books Are Commodities Literature is, of necessity, mixed up with commerce, because books are commodities. But it is necessary to draw a practical distinction between those authors whose sole aim it is to make money by selling their writings to the public, and those who set themselves certain literary standards. The purely commercial writer will be quite cynical, He will write stuff that he knows to be stale mutton, and sell it to the public as fresh lamb. As a way of making a livelihood, this is no worse than any others. But such a writer can claim no sympathetic treatment from the reviewer who is concerned with literary standards. The plea that he "has his living to make" will carry no weight. On the other hand, the writer who is concerned to maintain his literary integrity has nothing to gain, really, if a reviewer dilutes his standards of criticism in order to be kind. What on earth has he to gain? Only a fool is pleased with flattery. If we were to protect local writers with customs tariffs, the commercial writer would certainly gain. But I see no reason why he shouldn’t have to take his chance in an open field. If he can’t make a living out of his pen, let him take up carpentry or some other honest trade. The effect on the writer of literary integrity, on the other hand, would be thoro y bad. It would rob him of that integrity. Literature must be governed by intellectual freedom and intellectual responsibility. Critical standards should take no account of the age, sex, or nationality of a writer. If a critic allows his judgment to be distorted by the fact that a writer is trying to make a living, or is a cripple, or married a cousin of the wife’s then he is doing no good either to the writer or to literature. Merit Will Out From thé point of. view of any serious writer, I don’t think it matters threeha’pence whether he is reviewed kindly or not-so long as he is not swayed by criticism that he knows to be illinformed (whether kind or cruel). The really important thing is for him to get his work published. Once a work exists in printed form, it is impossible for it not to be given justice sooner or later. Once it is on record, its merits, if it has any, will be discovered by some critic. I am equally sure that if a valueless book is boosted into immediate success by bad reviewers, it will be "found out" before very long. What I am saying amounts to this-that I believe that it is impossible to suppress truth, except for a short time; and that mankind is, in the long run, guided by reason. If I didn’t believe those things, I should despair of humanity. My advice to writers is very simple. If you are a commercial writer, organise your racket properly. Use every means you can to get your books sold. (I once knew a man in London who wrote a novel, published it, wrote the blurb: on the dust-jacket, and finished up by doing a flattering review of it for

one of the papers). You won’t get any help from me-but carry on. If, on the other hand, you want to turn out work that is guided by high literary standards don’t complain if critics apply those standards to you. Welcome any review, however aritagonistic, that indicates that the reviewer has read English literature thoroughly, is aware of the proper nature of critical standards, and is attempting to uphold them, But don’t be too much impressed by criticism of any kind, unless you find it illuminating. Publishers Should Be Encouraged I have said that the really important thing for a serious writer is to get his stuff printed and placed on record. For this reason the work of publishing books is a vital part of the process of building up a New Zealand literature. I think that New Zealand publishers should be given every possible encour-agement-by journals and their reviewers, by writers, and by the general public. I consider that there is a good case for their being given State assistance, Publishers, of course, are dependent on writers for good writing, and on reviewers for good reviewing. They certainly can’t exist without good writers. The point I have been trying to hammer in is that unless high standards both of writing and of criticism are maintained, New Zealand literature will get the blight. In that case, publishing, along with everything else, will go to the devil.