Verne DeWitt Rowell, London, Ontario:
The Little Review is a whirlwind surprise. There is nothing like it in America. I am glad to see you playing up Nietzsche. Over here in this little town we have a Nietzschean vogue, and we are all delighted. Truly the intellectual center of America has shifted westward. To be sure, New York has The International; but Chicago has The Little Review, The Trimmed Lamp, and one or two other magazines of real literature. Then there is Burns Lee’s Bell Cow in Cleveland. Nietzsche is coming into his own at last. Wishing every success to The Little Review, which is one of the two best magazines in America (the other is Current Opinion).
Mollie Levin, Chicago:
The formal bow that The Little Review made to the public in its first issue violated tradition beautifully by doing what formal bows never do—really mean something. It is glorious to be young and enthusiastic, and still more so to be courageous; and whatever goes into The Little Review in that spirit is admirable, regardless of any reader’s personal judgment.
It’s good, too, to have used The Little Review: It makes me think of a child—beautiful in its present stage and with promise of infinite fulfillment.
Marie Patridge, Clearfield, Pa.:
I’ve been tremendously interested in the second issue. It seems to me your critic is wrong in speaking of juvenility or the restrictive tone of the magazine. It’s exactly that which gives The Little Review an excuse for being, that it is not like all other magazines with their cut-and-dried precision and their “Thus saith the Lord” attitude toward things.
As time goes on I think it will be wise to enlarge the scope—more of drama, more of music, more of world politics and science. You will thus get away from the aesthetic tendency which your critic mentions.
I enjoyed the Wells discussion so much. And yet Miss Trevor doesn’t advance any real arguments. It’s very easy to call people muddle-headed and vaguely sentimental, but an appeal to the upbuilding of character isn’t slushy. I’m inclined to agree with “M. M.,” though I’d like to hear an advanced—not a hysterical—argument on the subject. I’m willing to be convinced of the other side, but assuredly it would take something stronger and sterner and more logical than Miss Trevor.
[The suggestion about enlarging our scope is one we hoped no one would make until we had done it, that being the plan closest to our hearts. We can only explain our shortcomings in this regard by referring to a homely but reasonable saying about not being able to do everything at once.—The Editor.]