some anomalies of the short story-第2部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


Boccaccio；　and　of　the　Arabian　Nights；　without　the　wish　to　hedge　from　my
bold　stand。　　They　are　all　elemental；　compared　with　some　finer　modern　work
which　deepens　inward　immeasurably；　they　are　all　of　their　superficial
limits。　　They　amuse；　but　they　do　not　hold；　the　mind　and　stamp　it　with
large　and　profound　impressions。

An　Occidental　cannot　judge　the　literary　quality　of　the　Eastern　tales；　but
I　will　own　my　suspicion　that　the　perfection　of　the　Italian　work　is
philological　rather　than　artistic；　while　the　web　woven　by　Mr。　James　or
Miss　Jewett；　by　Kielland　or　Bjornson；　by　Maupassant；　by　Palacio　Valdes；
by　Giovanni　Verga；　by　Tourguenief；　in　one　of　those　little　frames　seems　to
me　of　an　exquisite　color　and　texture　and　of　an　entire　literary
preciousness；　not　only　as　regards　the　diction；　but　as　regards　those　more
intangible　graces　of　form；　those　virtues　of　truth　and　reality；　and　those
lasting　significances　which　distinguish　the　masterpiece。

The　novella　has　in　fact　been　carried　so　far　in　the　short　story　that　it
might　be　asked　whether　it　had　not　left　the　novel　behind；　as　to　perfection
of　form；　though　one　might　not　like　to　affirm　this。　　Yet　there　have　been
but　few　modern　fictions　of　the　novel's　dimensions　which　have　the　beauty
of　form　many　a　novella　embodies。　　Is　this　because　it　is　easier　to　give
form　in　the　small　than　in　the　large；　or　only　because　it　is　easier　to　hide
formlessness？　　It　is　easier　to　give　form　in　the　novella　than　in　the
novel；　because　the　design　of　less　scope　can　be　more　definite；　and　because
the　persons　and　facts　are　fewer；　and　each　can　be　more　carefully　treated。
But；　on　the　other　hand；　the　slightest　error　in　execution　shows　more　in
the　small　than　in　the　large；　and　a　fault　of　conception　is　more　evident。
The　novella　must　be　clearly　imagined；　above　all　things；　for　there　is　no
room　in　it　for　those　felicities　of　characterization　or　comment　by　which
the　artist　of　faltering　design　saves　himself　in　the　novel。




IV。

The　question　as　to　where　the　short　story　distinguishes　itself　from　the
anecdote　is　of　the　same　nature　as　that　which　concerns　the　bound　set
between　it　and　the　novel。　　In　both　cases　the　difference　of　the　novella　is
in　the　motive；　or　the　origination。　　The　anecdote　is　too　palpably　simple
and　single　to　be　regarded　as　a　novella；　though　there　is　now　and　then　a
novella　like　The　Father；　by　Bjornson；　which　is　of　the　actual　brevity　of
the　anecdote；　but　which；　when　released　in　the　reader's　consciousness；
expands　to　dramatic　dimensions　impossible　to　the　anecdote。　　Many
anecdotes　have　come　down　from　antiquity；　but　not；　I　believe；　one　short
story；　at　least　in　prose；　and　the　Italians；　if　they　did　not　invent　the
story；　gave　us　something　most　sensibly　distinguishable　from　the　classic
anecdote　in　the　novella。　　The　anecdote　offers　an　illustration　of
character；　or　records　a　moment　of　action；　the　novella　embodies　a　drama
and　develops　a　type。

It　is　not　quite　so　clear　as　to　when　and　where　a　piece　of　fiction　ceases
to　be　a　novella　and　becomes　a　novel。　　The　frontiers　are　so　vague　that　one
is　obliged　to　recognize　a　middle　species；　or　rather　a　middle　magnitude；
which　paradoxically；　but　necessarily　enough；　we　call　the　novelette。
First　we　have　the　short　story；　or　novella；　then　we　have　the　long　story；
or　novel；　and　between　these　we　have　the　novelette；　which　is　in　name　a
smaller　than　the　short　story；　though　it　is　in　point　of　fact　two　or　three
times　longer　than　a　short　story。　　We　may　realize　them　physically　if　we
will　adopt　the　magazine　parlance　and　speak　of　the　novella　as　a　one…number
story；　of　the　novel　as　a　serial；　and　of　the　novelette　as　a　two…number　or
a　three…number　story；　if　it　passes　the　three…number　limit　it　seems　to
become　a　novel。　　As　a　two…number　or　three…number　story　it　is　the　despair
of　editors　and　publishers。　　The　interest　of　so　brief　a　serial　will　not
mount　sufficiently　to　carry　strongly　over　from　month　to　month；　when　the
tale　is　completed　it　will　not　make　a　book　which　the　Trade　（inexorable
force！）　cares　to　handle。　　It　is　therefore　still　awaiting　its
authoritative　avatar；　which　it　will　be　some　one's　prosperity　and　glory　to
imagine；　for　in　the　novelette　are　possibilities　for　fiction　as　yet
scarcely　divined。

The　novelette　can　have　almost　as　perfect　form　as　the　novella。　　In　fact；
the　novel　has　form　in　the　measure　that　it　approaches　the　novelette；　and
some　of　the　most　symmetrical　modern　novels　are　scarcely　more　than
novelettes；　like　Tourguenief's　Dmitri　Rudine；　or　his　Smoke；　or　Spring
Floods。　　The　Vicar　of　Wakefield；　the　father　of　the　modern　novel；　is
scarcely　more　than　a　novelette；　and　I　have　sometimes　fancied；　but　no
doubt　vainly；　that　the　ultimated　novel　might　be　of　the　dimensions　of
Hamlet。　　If　any　one　should　say　there　was　not　room　in　Hamlet　for　the
character　and　incident　requisite　in　a　novel；　I　should　be　ready　to　answer
that　there　seemed　a　good　deal　of　both　in　Hamlet。

But　no　doubt　there　are　other　reasons　why　the　novel　should　not　finally　be
of　the　length　of　Hamlet；　and　I　must　not　let　my　enthusiasm　for　the
novelette　carry　me　too　far；　or；　rather；　bring　me　up　too　short。　　I　am
disposed　to　dwell　upon　it；　I　suppose；　because　it　has　not　yet　shared　the
favor　which　the　novella　and　the　novel　have　enjoyed；　and　because　until
somebody　invents　a　way　for　it　to　the　public　it　cannot　prosper　like　the
one…number　story　or　the　serial。　　I　should　like　to　say　as　my　last　word　for
it　here　that　I　believe　there　are　many　novels　which；　if　stripped　of　their
padding；　would　turn　out　to　have　been　all　along　merely　novelettes　in
disguise。

It　does　not　follow；　however；　that　there　are　many　novelle　which；　if　they
were　duly　padded；　would　be　found　novelettes。　　In　that　dim；　subjective
region　where　the　aesthetic　origins　present　themselves　almost　with　the
authority　of　inspirations　there　is　nothing　clearer　than　the　difference
between　the　short…story　motive　and　the　long…story　motive。　　One；　if　one　is
in　that　line　of　work；　feels　instinctively　just　the　size　and　carrying
power　of　the　given　motive。　　Or；　if　the　reader　prefers　a　different　figure；
the　mind　which　the　seed　has　been　dropped　into　from　Somewhere　is
mystically　aware　whether　the　seed　is　going　to　grow　up　a　bush　or　is　going
to　grow　up　a　tree；　if　left　to　itself。　　Of　course；　the　mind　to　which　the
seed　is　intrusted　may　play　it　false；　and　wilfully　dwarf　the　growth；　or
force　it　to　unnatural　dimensions；　but　the　critical　observer　will　easily
detect　the　fact　of　such　treasons。　　Almost　in　the　first　germinal　impulse
the　inventive　mind　forefeels　the　ultimate　difference　and　recognizes　the
essential　simplicity　or　complexity　of　the　motive。　　There　will　be　a
prophetic　subdivision　into　a　variety　of　motives　and　a　multiplication　of
characters　and　incidents　and　situations；　or　the　original　motive　will　be
divined　indivisible；　and　there　will　be　a　small　group　of　people
immediately　interested　and　controlled　by　a　single；　or　predominant；　fact。
The　uninspired　may　contend　that　this　is　bosh；　and　I　own　that　something
might　be　said　for　their　contention；　but　upon　the　whole　I　think　it　is
gospel。

The　right　novel　is　never　a　congeries　of　novelle；　as　might　appear　to　the
uninspired。　　If　it　indulges　even　in　episodes；　it　loses　in　reality　and
vitality。　　It　is　one　stock　from　which　its　various　branches　put　out；　and
form　it　a　living　growth　identical　throughout。　　The　right　novella　is　never
a　novel　cropped　back　from　the　size　of　a　tree　to　a　bush；　or　the　branch　of
a　tree　stuck　into　the　ground　and　made　to　serve　for　a　bush。　　It　is　another
species；　destined　by　the　agencies　at　work　in　the　realm　of　unconsciousness
to　be　brought　into　being　of　its　own　kind；　and　not　of　another。




V。

This　was　always　its　case；　but　in　the　process　of　time　the　short　story；
while　keeping　the　natural　limits　of　the　primal　novella　（if　ever　there　was
one）；　has　shown　almost　limitless　possibilities　within　them。　　It　has　shown
itself　capable　of　imparting　the　effect　of　every　sort　of　intention；
whether　of　humor　or　pathos；　of　tragedy　or　comedy　or　broad　farce　or
delicate　irony；　of　character　or　action。　　The　thing　that　first　made　itself
known　as　a　little　tale；　usually　salacious；　dealing　with　conventionalized
types　and　conventionalized　incidents；　has　proved　itself　possibly　the　most
flexible　of　all　the　literary　forms　in　its　adaptation　to　the　needs　of　the
mind　that　wishes　to　utter　itself；　inventively　or　constructively；　upon
some　fresh　occasion；　or　wishes　briefly　to　criticise　or　represent　some
phase　or　fact　of　life。

The　riches　in　this　shape　of　fiction　are　effectively　inestimable；　if　we
consider　what　has　been　done　in　the　short　story；　and　is　still　doing
everywhere。　　The　good　novels　may　be　easily　counted；　but　the　good　novelle；
since　Boccaccio　began　（if　it　was　he　that　first　began）　to　make　them；
cannot　be　computed。　　In　quantity　they　are　inexhaustible；　and　in　quality
they　are　wonderfully　satisfying。　　Then；　why　is　it　that　so　very；　very　few
of　the　most　satisfactory　of　that　innumerable　multitude　stay　by　you；　as
the　country　people　say；　in　characterization　or　action？　　How　hard　it　is　to
recall　a　person　or　a　fact　out　of　any　of　them；　out　of　the　most　signally
good！　　We　seem　to　be　delightfully　nourished　as　we　read；　but　is　it；　after
all；　a　full　meal？　　We　become　of　a　perfect　intimacy　and　a　devoted
friendship　with　the　men　and　women　in　the　short　stories；　but　not
apparently　of　a　lasting　acquaintance。　　It　is　a　single　meeting　we　have
with　them；　and　though　we　instantly　love　or　hate　them　dearly；　recurrence
and　repetition　seem　necessary　to　that　familiar　knowledge　in　which　we　hold
the　personages　in　a　novel。

It　is　here　that　the　novella；　so　much　more　perfect　in　form；　shows　its
irremediable　inferiority　to　the　novel；　and　somehow　to　the　play；　to　the
very　farce；　which　it　may　quantitatively　excel。　　We　can　all　recall　by　name
many　characters　out　of　comedies　and　farces；　but　how　many　characters　out
of　short　stories　can　we　recall？　　Most　persons　of　the　drama　give
themselves　away　by　name　for　types；　mere　figments　of　allegory；　and　perhaps
oblivion　is　the　penalty　that　the　novella　pays　for　the　fineness　of　its
characterizations；　but　perhaps；　also；　the　dramatic　form　has　greater
facilities　for　repetition；　and　so　can　stamp　its　persons　more　indelibly　on
the　imagination　than　the　narrative　form　in　the　same　small　space。