Time Machine: H.L. Mencken's 1925 Review of 'The Great Gatsby'
chicagotribune.com
chicagotribune.com
A sample:
In his little box of stage properties he kept six or eight cunning
devices, tricks, artifices for his savages and woodsmen to deceive
and circumvent each other with, and he was never so happy as when he
was working these innocent things and seeing them go. A favorite one
was to make a moccasined person tread in the tracks of the
moccasined enemy, and thus hide his own trail. Cooper wore out
barrels and barrels of moccasins in working that trick. Another
stage-property that he pulled out of his box pretty frequently was
his broken twig. He prized his broken twig above all the rest of his
effects, and worked it the hardest. It is a restful chapter in any
book of his when somebody doesn’t step on a dry twig and alarm all
the reds and whites for two hundred yards around. Every time a
Cooper person is in peril, and absolute silence is worth four
dollars a minute, he is sure to step on a dry twig. There may be a
hundred handier things to step on, but that wouldn’t satisfy
Cooper. Cooper requires him to turn out and find a dry twig; and if
he can’t do it, go and borrow one. In fact, the Leather Stocking
Series ought to have been called the Broken Twig Series.
[1] - http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3172/3172-h/3172-h.htmI would argue that among really good writers, it's not rare at all. The usual course is for an author to keep learning for years, figure out what works well for them, and perhaps lose a little ground towards the end of their lives due to failing health or lack of care.
Similarly, good technologists build a workshop full of techniques that experience has given them, do their highest quality work in middle to late middle age, and then retreat from active building to teach, critique or advise.
I haven't found that to be true, at least amongst successful authors. Certainly not enough to call it 'the usual course.' Most authors who I have seen be successful in early life don't write their best works in middle or late age.
I suspect it's some combination of that and:
- They had a reserve of good ideas and used them up faster than they could generate new ones
- Their initial efforts had a lot of time to "cook" in their heads, while the later ones were forced out (similar to what you propose, only it's their internal editor that's slacking off)
- They lose their enthusiasm for the profession, but they don't want to give up the success and identity they've built in the field
OTOH, I think that quality of work (judged, as it always is, by subjective appeal to some critic or set of critics) with constant skill has considerable variation in most artistic endeavors, and what makes a name is usually not the kind of work that most people can turn in day in and day out. Saying that skill goes down after someone becomes famous is, I think, a lot like saying people's skill at the lottery tends to go down after they hit the jackpot.
I think the quality and complexity of the ideas also matters, perhaps more even than quantity. Some of my favorite 'creators' who become better over time tend to focus on essentially the same thing over and over again (more than others, it seems). But their later works are richer and better and developments from earlier works.
It's not rare among really good writers, Mencken is saying a really good writer is what is rare.
"I make much of this improvement because it is of an order not witnessed in American writers; and seldom, indeed, in those who start off with popular success."
Emphasis mine. American writers and the one-hit wonders of the literary world tend to get worse rather than better, he's saying. The first is probably a justifiable statement at the time—decent-to-good American literature was rare (though not entirely absent) in the English corpus before the moderns (many of whom preferred to live in Europe, anyway).
Then there's the cultural impact he's had. Stranger Things was basically a Stephen King novel and even directly name-dropped him.
... is a quote I distinctly remember reading many years ago, and which I cannot find a single reference to anywhere on the internet. Guess I'm just crazy?
http://www.newstatesman.com/science-tech/internet/2016/12/mo...
Same goes for "fidelis ad urnum", which should read "urnam".
While possibly Mencken's errors, a linotype operator botching a slug or an editor misreading a partially open 'a' wouldn't be the severe error it is today in the age of autocorrect and instantaneous type production.
When you post a comment, there's just a screen between you and all of the internet and its information. Mencken might have had weeks or months and a dozen people's hands between his review and its printing. Not to mention reprintings, revisions, and the eventual OCR close to a century later.
I do like older manipulative writing for being more obvious to us, because we're not quite the target anymore. A kind of vaccine.
H.L., honey, you have no idea...
We're probably into solid Paleolithic territory by now ...
I think I use reviews for both purposes. Using movies as an example, I'll check rottentomatoes before-the-fact to see whether there is at least a vague consensus that the movie I'm about to pay to see isn't going to be a total waste of my time. But then after I've seen it, I'll sometimes also go read what a smaller set of reviewers who I enjoy had to say about it, and compare and contrast their thoughts with my own. Both things have value to me, but in very different ways.
You cannot spoil The Great Gatsby just by recalling the major plot points. Indeed, the novel's beauty is actually in between the parties and deaths of it's characters.