UNDER THE SUN

New Zealand Listener, Volume 11, Issue 279, 27 October 1944, Page 20

UNDER THE SUN

AUSTRALIAN NEW WRITING, No. 2. Edited hy Catherine S. Pritchard. George Farwell & Bernard Smith. Current Book Distributors. NEW ZEALAND NEW WRITING, No. 3. Edited by I. A. Gordon. Progressive Publishing Society. (Reviewed by A. R. D. Fairburn) ¢ T appears (say the editors of Australian New Writing) that whet our readers derhand is new writing that is really new — in the sense of having something to say about present-day ideas, trends and problems. They have shown themselves less concerned with subtleties of style, highly-polished technique than material, that gets down to fundamentals." David Hyman, in his article "Literature and the People’s War," elaborates the theme. He attacks Hemingway, Eliot, D. H. Lawrence, Joyce, Proust, Gertrude Stein, Steinbeck (The Moon is Down) and Gauguin as escapists, decadents and so on. The function of art, he says, is "to create a complete picture of man." Joyce and Proust give us "the psychoanalytic man, the intellectual or emotional man, but never the complete man." I am not at all sure that Mr. Hyman isn’t trying to offer us another heresy in exchange-that of the political man. "It is the task of the artist," he says, "to awaken new sources of energy in the people, for the struggle against Fascism." If we are to understand from this that (for example) Millais’ picture "Bubblés" would be great art if only it contained anti-Fascist propaganda, then I must disagree. The primary task of the artist, as I understand it, is to produce good (and if possible, great) art. If he is out of touch with social reality, so much the worse for him and his art. But there is something more to be said: even if the artist’s grasp of social reality is strong and his instincts are healthy, his vision must always be a personal one if it is to be of any value. I feel that the "new writers’ I have quoted above are reacting too violently against romantic individualism in art. In any future state that is to be tolerable, the creative freedom of the individual must be the end of social organisation. The artist is both a symbol of this freedom and the means of its realisation by other péople. He has a function, and he must not be hindered in fulfilling it, or bullied into being a mere ‘propagandist. He also needs skill. If the readers of Australian New Writirig are, as we have been told, indifferent to questions of style and craftsmanship, then they are indifferent to art. They should be content to make their approach to politics, or to life, by some other path. The best thing among the prose in this collection is a short sketch by the New Zealander, A. P. Gaskell,"in which a familiar type of "Imperial Army Man" is vivisected with expert malice. Another sketch, by an anonymous author, "Splinter," is as thickly sprinkled with exclamation stops as a schoolboy’s essay, end is a good example (though not the only one) of the sort of exaltation of amateurism against which I have ~been protesting. It is altogether a very crude piece of work. The poetry is mediocre, @xcept for John Thompson’s "Traveller" and Muir Holburn’s "Australian Film Studio," (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) both of which say something, and say it well. V. G. O’Connor’s article on "Art and Fascism" is a good bit of. hard hitting, in which Sir Lionel Lindsay and his brother Norman are deservedly pulped. In his article "Take the People to Art,’ John Reed says some useful things, which run rather against the editorial grain; but I feel that parts of it might be taken as a defence of the wilful obscurity and humbug of contemporary art, which help to create prejudice against honest and sensitive work. * * % EW ZEALAND NEW WRITING is less ideological in flavour than its Australian contemporary, but in this collection, too, there is much commonplace writing-none of it quite as flabby as the worst of the Austrajian stuff. Professor Robertson earns no gold medals for prose by writing like this in his "Eruption at Tarawera"’: "Attached as we are to proportionalities for the reaffirmation of fragments of life, art, history, we seek a comparison with Vesuvius. e amount of emitted ash in the two eruptions bears some approximation." Greville Texidor’s story, "An Annual Affair,’ and Frank Sargeson’s "Growing Up" are both notable pieces of writing. For the benefit of Mr. David Hyman and others who think the literary artist should pay the "masses" the doubtful compliment of writing down to them, I should like to make a point about: Sargeson’s prose. His use of an idiom based on common speech is not to be taken as a concession to illiteracy. It is a literary device, used to express character and to define an attitude. As such it fully justifies itself, whether or not it exactly reflects New Zealand speech, The canons of tealism should be applied with caution. Realism, as a complete theory of artistic expression, is indefensible. The poetry of Anton Vogt, Kendrick Smithyman, G. R. Gilbert and Ronald L. Meek is of a high standard. And the two poems by the late Don McDonald (especially "Time") are evidence of our loss of a very fine talent. There is a need, I think, for more critical articles in New Zealand New Writing, and for some editorial comment of a kind that would help to give the publication an identity. Also, since part of the intention is to encourage ‘new writers, some discrimination might usefully be exercised in order to make it clear that not all the work is put forward as firstgrade. For instance, Frank Sargeson’s story in this number might have been "starred" in some way, instead of being left to jostle with more amateurish stuff. In spite of marshy. patches, both of these collections are well worth buying for the good things they contain. The price should discourage nobody.