Says Mrs. Ogi: “This is getting to be quite a respectable literary book: the very thing for club ladies here in Southern California, who hire somebody to read books for them, and tell them what the books are about. Here you’ve read thousands of books for them!”
Says Ogi: “They’ll get all the culture of the ages in a lecture lasting three-quarters of an hour. I remember your telling how the Negro mammies chew up the babies’ food for them, and then feed it back into the babies’ mouths.”
“Yes, but don’t you tell that!” cries Mrs. Ogi.
“A little too Renaissancy?” laughs her husband.
“With reasonable care,” persists the other, “you can break into literary society with this book. I understand you’re leading up to English literature; and that is where respectability begins and ends.”
“You forget my Russian and German readers. Also, I’m sorry to report, we have to have another chapter of economics and politics.”
“What’s happened now?”
“Free institutions have got a new start, and we have to understand the process. We have to make an appraisal of the parliamentary system; and if we make one that is just, we shall displease all parties to the controversy. You remember how during the war this Ogi family used to argue until three o’clock in the morning. The most difficult question in all history had to be decided, and kept decided for four years. Was there really a choice between British capitalism and German autocracy? Was there any real life left in the parliamentary system, anything worth saving in political democracy; or must we go over to working class dictatorship? We listened to the partisans of each side as they stormed at us; there were millions of separate facts, and we had to appraise them and strike a balance. And just when we thought we had it, some Irishman or Hindoo would come along with fresh examples of British governmental imbecility.”
“But what’s that got to do with the book?” demands Mrs. Ogi.
“We have to make the same decision in our study of world culture. Here is Elizabethan England, and we have to appraise it, and appraise Shakespeare. Are we going to agree with Bernard Shaw and scold him because he isn’t a Socialist? Are we going to agree with Tolstoy and scrap him because he isn’t a saint? Evidently I’m expected to do those things. Here’s a letter from George Sterling, who disapproves most strenuously of my thesis, but who says, ‘From your point of view Shakespeare is your biggest and most vulnerable game.’”