noted that there is coming over our literature a profound, a radical change, a change in the direction of terser, more forcible expression; a change in the direction of the elimination of superfluous words, of condensation, to the end that the imagination and intelligence of the reader will be called more and more into play.
It is conceivable that the reading public may become so intelligent and so keenly sensitive that one word will suffice to convey a wealth of information or suggestion where a page is now necessary.
Certain it is, if mankind is progressing at all, it is progressing in that direction.
The rise of the printed drama means the fall of the descriptive novel.
A few years ago no American publisher would risk the printing of a play; now every play of any merit and many of no merit are issued in book form.
The novelist devotes two-thirds of his book to descriptions of persons and places, and most of the remaining third to banal psychological analysis and comment. He leaves little to the imagination of the reader, who is told the color of the heroine’s eyes and hair, the number of her dimples, the length of her smile, the shape of her teeth, her make of face powder, together with endless references to her hats, gowns, shoes, parasols, etc., etc.
Usually the novelist has some young woman acquaintance in mind, and he literally forces the woman he likes upon the reader, who may be in love with an entirely different type, and who, if left to himself, would find the girl he likes in the pages of the story.
The dramatist does nothing of the kind. “Mary Smith, age about twenty,” suffices for him. Shakespeare gives no more than the name.
As for description of places, “a room,” or “an office,” “a wood,” “a garden,” answers every purpose.