Teachers of fiction might contribute a worthy service by compelling all students to gaze upon, say, the relentless brevity and simplicity of De Maupassant that yet gives more and more subtle shadings, even in translation, than most of the wordy ones can give in five times the space. Or Flaubert's exquisite nicety in word selection, not for the mere sensual sound of the word but for the word's real office in expression.
Perhaps such frank expression may seem out of place in this volume. But being a magazine editor and the compiler of this book does not free me from all other obligations. And there is need of every voice that can be raised in outcry against the tidal wave of words that is drowning so much of American fiction. As to good taste, I am less interested in it than in trying to help against this increasing evil. The advice of our answerer ought to be nailed to the wall above the desk of—what per cent.?—of our established writers: "For God's sake don't talk so much!"
QUESTION X
What is the elemental hold of fiction on the human mind?
Answers
Bill Adams: Life pitched against death; and man the master.
Samuel Hopkins Adams:
"The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow."
Paul L. Anderson: The inherent necessity for excitement, which, despite the Puritans and the high-brows, is as much an elemental need as food.