Part 1
Transcriber’s Notes
Words in italics are marked with _underscores_.
Words in small capitals are shown in UPPER CASE.
Please also see the note at the end of the book.
HOW TO STUDY “THE BEST SHORT STORIES”
How to Study “The Best Short Stories”
AN ANALYSIS OF EDWARD J. O’BRIEN’S ANNUAL VOLUMES OF THE BEST SHORT STORIES OF THE YEAR PREPARED FOR THE USE OF WRITERS AND OTHER STUDENTS OF THE SHORT-STORY
BY
BLANCHE COLTON WILLIAMS
Associate Professor of English, Hunter College of the City of New York; Instructor in Short-Story Writing, Columbia University (Extension Teaching and Summer Session). Author of “Gnomic Poetry in Anglo-Saxon,” “A Handbook on Story Writing,” etc.; Editor of “A Book of Short Stories.”
[Illustration: Publisher’s Colophon]
BOSTON SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1919 BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY (INCORPORATED)
PREFACE
In this foreword, I wish first of all to thank Captain Achmed Abdullah, Gertrude Atherton, Edwina Stanton Babcock, Barry Benefield, Thomas Beer, Katharine Holland Brown, Maxwell Struthers Burt, Francis Buzzell, Donn Byrne of Oriel, Charles Caldwell Dobie, Theodore Dreiser, George Gilbert, Susan Glaspell, Armistead C. Gordon, Fannie Hurst, Arthur Johnson, Fanny Kemble Johnson, Burton Kline, Mary Lerner, Sinclair Lewis, Jeannette Marks, Walter J. Muilenburg, Seumas O’Brien, Vincent O’Sullivan, Albert DuVerney Pentz, Lawrence Perry, Mary Brecht Pulver, Harrison Rhodes, Benjamin Rosenblatt, Fleta Campbell Springer, and Julian Street. Each of these authors very kindly gave data which no one could have gleaned; and in so doing they have contributed largely to the usefulness of this study.[1]
[1] I must add to this list a former student, Pearl Doles Bell, who interviewed Mrs. Irvin Cobb and who read her notes to my summer class of 1916. (The interview was published, subsequently, in _The_ [New York] _Sun_, October 1, 1916.) My assistant, Miss Shirley V. Long, collaborated in the analysis of Miss Hurst’s “Get Ready the Wreaths.”
Only the other day a student demanded, “Why can’t I get an author to tell me every step in the development of one of his stories?” Although, as I tried to point out, such a thorough proceeding is neither desirable nor easily possible,[2] yet the essentially valuable part of the author’s progress may be most illuminative, and it is obtainable. As one of these writers has said, the artist is not analytical beforehand and is not so, of necessity, after completing his work. But even from those who progress only, as they assert, by inspiration come clear and helpful statements concerning their starting points and developing processes. This generosity of successful writers augurs well for the future of fiction.
[2] Poe seems to be the sole writer who has asserted that he could call to mind the progressive steps of any of his compositions.
Charles Caldwell Dobie has said:[3] “Any man who has made a success of his business or profession always seems to consider it his duty to warn others off the field. The advice of both failure and success appears to be embodied in one and the same word, ‘Don’t!’ This is a curious paradox, and I shall not attempt to explain it. Perhaps it is because the roads to success or to failure are hard to distinguish, the sign-posts at the parting of the ways almost undecipherable. Yes, I think it must be this realization of the nearness of defeat that makes the successful one so anxious to dissuade others from the struggle. And yet, after all, there is a bit of egotism back of the kindly advice we offer, rather patronizingly, to our friends.
[3] _The Silhouette_, February, 1917.
“I would be the last person to warn the ambitious from literary endeavor, providing they would rather write than do anything else in the world; providing, also, they were equipped with three qualifications. Determination is the first; a hide at once sensitive and impervious ranks second; an hour--at least--a day to devote to the pursuit of their purpose. I say _devote_ advisedly; the true lover is never niggardly.... If added to these virtues, one has a quiet room and no telephone, half the battle is won.”[4]
[4] Ellen Glasgow writes behind locked doors; Gertrude Atherton “rings down an iron curtain” between herself and the world.
And, further, by way of emphasis on work and study, hear Burton Kline: “As an editor I have a feeling that some of the writers who should be railroad presidents or bank directors are getting in the way of real writers that I ought to be discovering. In the long run it is probably better to have all the writing we can get. The wider the net is spread, the greater the chance of something precious in the haul. The teaching of writing, even if it finds only a few real writers, helps to sharpen the critical taste of the others and whet their appetite for better writing. And I believe that sharper appetite and more discriminating taste is beginning to be felt.... In the creation of a literature, an audience is as necessary as the performers themselves. And the more critical the audience, the more likely we are to have great performers. The opportunity invites and develops them....”
Speaking from the critic’s and teacher’s point of view, I not only believe that one can “learn to write”; I know, because more than once I have watched growth and tended effort from failure to success. Many would-be writers drop by the way; the telephone to pleasure is too insistent, or the creative process is not sufficiently joyful. Some students, however, need only an encouraging word and sympathetic criticism. Harriet Welles is an example of this sort. Her stories have been running in _Scribner’s_ for some months; she worked only a year in my class at Columbia before producing finished narratives. Others must labor and exercise patience in order to accomplish a few--perhaps one or two--worthy specimens of the story-teller’s art. I refer, for illustration, to another student, Elizabeth Stead Taber, whose “Scar” attracted favorable comment and drew from Mr. O’Brien high praise in his volume of 1917. Others write prolifically, turning out story after story, before attaining the highest publications and prices--but not of necessity before attaining excellent construction and style. Marjorie Lewis Prentiss comes to mind as an earnest and careful writer of this sort, who is improving as steadily as she writes and publishes regularly. I need not refer to Frederick S. Greene--now in France--who has become well known through his stories, and who felt that he worked best under class criticism. He studied as he wrote, and his published stories, with only two exceptions as I recall, were produced, first, for the class-room audience. Even those who succeed only once, or who never succeed, have learned to evaluate the content and the manner of the printed narrative, and have added to the body of the intelligent fiction-public.
The _great artist_, let me add, hews his own way. But--! Gutzon Borglum once said that in his opinion there had lived only three great masters of art: Phidias, Michel Angelo, and Auguste Rodin. If these are the great names in sculpture and pictorial art, who are those in the world of fiction writing?
... I use the form “short-story” to indicate the particular _genre_ or type, to distinguish it from the story that is merely short. I have laid down my definition in “A Handbook on Story Writing,”[5] a volume which the student of this book should have at hand. In the space here allowed, there can be no discussion of terminology. Mr. O’Brien has expressed himself as uninterested in technical distinctions, a fact which argues for the greater range of his choice. He has preferred the larger values, and therefore no adverse comment is implied in my classing a story in these collections as a novelette or another as a story that is merely short.[6] From the standpoint of literature, an advantage lies in the more extended field. And at best, opinions differ. I can only set down my own reactions, backed by eight years of teaching and a life-time interest in fiction.
[5] Dodd Mead & Company, 1917. Third Edition, 1918.
[6] In quoting, I have used “short story” or “short-story” as written by the various authors. It will be seen that the forms are usually interchangeable.
To the student, I would emphasize the fact that studying these “Yearbook” stories, valuable as such study may become, will not make of you a writer; but from them, this little book, and the wealth of detail which Mr. O’Brien has accumulated, you can apprehend the elements of technique and learn, at the same time, what is successful from an editorial point of view. For every short-story writer must be both an artist and a man of business. If his work is not published, it _is_ not. Much of it, early in the exercising stages, should die. But at the last there must be evidence of labor and of genius. Only one evidence is admissible: the product.
While you are learning, then, do not try to publish. “Do” your exercises, and practise much; master the principles, and express yourself. When you have become full-grown, put away childish things, and forget that you ever heard of technique.
BLANCHE COLTON WILLIAMS.
New York City, November 30, 1918.
CONTENTS
STORIES IN THE YEARBOOKS
1915, 1916, 1917, and 1918.
PAGE
A SIMPLE ACT OF PIETY. By Captain Achmed Abdullah 1918 1
THE SACRIFICIAL ALTAR. By Gertrude Atherton 1916 8
THE EXCURSION. } By Edwina Stanton Babcock { 1917 12 CRUELTIES. } { 1918 14
ONNIE. By Thomas Beer 1917 18
MISS WILLETT. By Barry Benefield 1916 21
SUPERS. By Frederick Booth 1916 23
BUSTER. By Katharine Holland Brown 1918 24
FOG. By Dana Burnet 1916 28
THE WATER-HOLE. } By Maxwell Struthers Burt { 1915 31 A CUP OF TEA. } { 1917 33
MA’S PRETTIES. } By Francis Buzzell { 1916 37 LONELY PLACES. } { 1917 39
THE WAKE. By Donn Byrne 1915 42
THE GREAT AUK. } By Irvin Cobb { 1916 44 BOYS WILL BE BOYS. } { 1917 48
CHAUTONVILLE. By Will Levington Comfort 1915 51
LAUGHTER. } By Charles Caldwell Dobie { 1917 52 THE OPEN WINDOW. } { 1918 56
THE LOST PHOEBE. By Theodore Dreiser 1916 59
LA DERNIÈRE MOBILISATION. By W. A. Dwiggins 1915 61
THE EMPEROR OF ELAM. By H. G. Dwight 1917 62
THE CITIZEN. By James Francis Dwyer 1915 66
THE GAY OLD DOG. By Edna Ferber 1917 67
BLIND VISION. By Mary Mitchell Freedley 1918 71
IMAGINATION. By Gordon Hall Gerould 1918 73
THE KNIGHT’S MOVE. By Katherine Fullerton Gerould 1917 75
IN MAULMAIN FEVER-WARD. By George Gilbert 1918 77
A JURY OF HER PEERS. By Susan Glaspell 1917 83
THE SILENT INFARE. By Armistead C. Gordon 1916 86
THE CAT OF THE CANE-BRAKE. } By Frederick Stuart Greene } 1916 89 THE BUNKER MOUSE. } } 1917 92
WHOSE DOG--? By Frances Gregg 1915 95
MAKING PORT. } By Richard Matthews Hallett { 1916 96 RAINBOW PETE. } { 1917 98
LIFE. By Ben Hecht 1915 100
THE FATHER’S HAND. By George Humphrey 1918 101
T. B. } { 1915 103 “ICE WATER, PL--!” } By Fannie Hurst { 1916 106 GET READY THE WREATHS. } { 1917 109
MR. EBERDEEN’S HOUSE. } By Arthur Johnson } 1915 112 THE VISIT OF THE MASTER. } } 1918 116
THE STRANGE-LOOKING MAN. By Fannie Kemble Johnson 1917 118
VENGEANCE IS MINE. By Virgil Jordan 1915 119
THE CALLER IN THE NIGHT. } By Burton Kline { 1917 120 IN THE OPEN CODE. } { 1918 124
LITTLE SELVES. By Mary Lerner 1916 126
THE WILLOW WALK. By Sinclair Lewis 1918 129
THE WEAVER WHO CLAD THE SUMMER. By Harris Merton Lyon 1915 136
THE SUN CHASER. By Jeannette Marks 1916 139
THE STORY VINTON HEARD AT MALLORIE. By Katharine Prescott Moseley 1918 143
HEART OF YOUTH. } By Walter J. Muilenburg { 1915 145 AT THE END OF THE ROAD. } { 1916 147
AT THE END OF THE PATH. By Newbold Noyes 1915 149
THE WHALE AND THE GRASSHOPPER. By Seumas O’Brien 1915 151
IN BERLIN. By Mary Boyle O’Reilly 1915 153
THE INTERVAL. By Vincent O’Sullivan 1917 154
THE TOAST TO FORTY-FIVE. By William Dudley Pelley 1918 156
THE BIG STRANGER ON DORCHESTER HEIGHTS. By Albert Du Verney Pentz 1916 159
“A CERTAIN RICH MAN--.” By Lawrence Perry 1917 161
THE PATH OF GLORY. By Mary Brecht Pulver 1917 165
EXTRA MEN. By Harrison Rhodes 1918 170
THE WAITING YEARS. By Katharine Metcalf Roof 1915 172
ZELIG. } By Benjamin Rosenblatt { 1915 174 THE MENORAH. } { 1916 176
THE SURVIVORS. } By Elsie Singmaster } 1915 178 PENANCE. } } 1916 180
FEET OF GOLD. By Arthur Gordon Smith 1916 182
SOLITAIRE. By Fleta Campbell Springer 1918 184
THE YELLOW CAT. } { 1915 189 DOWN ON THEIR KNEES. } By Wilbur Daniel { 1917 192 CHING, CHING, CHINAMAN. } Steele { 1917 194 THE DARK HOUR. } { 1918 200
THE BIRD OF SERBIA. By Julian Street 1918 202
THE BOUNTY JUMPER. } By Mary Synon { 1915 207 NONE SO BLIND. } { 1917 210
HALF-PAST TEN. By Alice L. Tildesley 1916 212
AT ISHAM’S. By Edward C. Venable 1918 214
DE VILMARTE’S LUCK. By Mary Heaton Vorse 1918 216
THE WHITE BATTALION. By Frances Gilchrist Wood 1918 219
GENERAL SUGGESTIONS
Read the story before taking up the exercises.
Consult the biographical data in the Yearbooks for 1916, 1917, and 1918.
Observe to what extent the various authors have reflected the country or region in which they have lived. What conclusions do you draw?
Many of the stories conform to the laws of the “Greek Unities.” Name them.
The following list is composed of the stories which are best for _structural_ study.
- “A Simple Act of Piety” - “The Sacrificial Altar” - “The Water-Hole” + “The Great Auk” - “Boys Will Be Boys” - “The Gay Old Dog” - “The Knight’s Move” - “In Maulmain Fever-Ward” + “A Jury of Her Peers” + “The Cat of the Cane-Brake” - “The Bunker Mouse” + “T. B.” + “‘Ice Water, Pl----!’” - “Get Ready the Wreaths” - “Mr. Eberdeen’s House” - “The Willow Walk” + “‘A Certain Rich Man--’” - “The Path of Glory” + “The Waiting Years” - “Solitaire” + “The Yellow Cat” - “Down on Their Knees” - “Ching, Ching, Chinaman” + “The Bounty Jumper” + “None So Blind” + “Half-Past Ten.”
The plus signs are prefixed to the titles of stories which present the action in a closely circumscribed time and place. Study the stories to which the minus sign is prefixed to see how the authors have managed an extended period of time and place, or of either. On what phase of the action has emphasis been placed? How has each author achieved unity of effect? Notice the definite plot stages in these narratives marked by excellence of structure. Although the technique of every writer may differ from that of every other, yet in his story he will see to it, consciously or unconsciously, that high points, “lights,” or climaxes occur. It is a far call from the Roman _biga_ to the modern automobile; but wheels, body and motor attachment characterize each as a vehicle. From Poe to the present, the short-story vehicle has had, and will continue to have, certain type features.
The titles should be studied for their attractiveness, originality, suggestiveness and bearing on the story.
The title may be:
a. The name of the chief character--“Onnie,” “Chautonville.”
b. An epithet applied to the chief character--“The Great Auk,” “The Bunker Mouse.”
c. A place--“Mr. Eberdeen’s House,” “The Water-Hole.”
d. A suggestion of--1. An objective theme or idea--“The Excursion,” “The Wake.” 2. A subjective theme or idea--“The Sacrificial Altar,” “Boys will be Boys.”
e. An allusion expressed fully, in part, or conveyed by implication--“Vengeance is Mine,” “The Path of Glory.”
One of the most difficult titles to create is that which has a veiled suggestion, some bearing on the story that is clear or significant only after the story has been read; e.g., “Get Ready the Wreaths,” “The Interval.”
Group the stories according to dominant motives, observing with what frequence certain universal motive-themes occur. For example, the sacrifice motive is found in the following: “The Sacrificial Altar,” “Onnie,” “The Emperor of Elam,” “The Gay Old Dog,” “The Knight’s Move,” “The Bunker Mouse,” “Making Port,” “The Sun Chaser,” “Heart of Youth,” “A Certain Rich Man,” “Zelig,” “The Menorah,” “The Bounty Jumper,” “None So Blind.”
In each of the stories just named, what _feeling_ or power prompts the sacrifice? What is the sacrifice? What is the effect of the sacrifice on the one making it? On the one for whom it is made? On the reader? On the final story-impression?
Study the following as the best examples of realism: “The Excursion,” “Ma’s Pretties,” “Lonely Places,” “The Silent Infare,” “The Big Stranger on Dorchester Heights.” What difference, structurally, do you observe between these narratives and those developed by the more “romantic” writer?
In every story try to find indications of the author’s theories about fiction or Art in general. For instance, in “Feet of Gold”: “Naturally, since all of us are artists, we seek the Truth through Beauty”; etc. (p. 309).
Characters may be described by the author. This, the so-called “direct” method, is not in reality so direct or vivid as the so-called “indirect” method. By the latter a character reveals himself through act, speech, gesture; he is also portrayed by what others say about him, and by their reactions toward him.
What difference exists in spirit, mood and tempo between the stories marked, respectively, by the direct and the indirect methods?
By how many stories are you attracted at the beginning? Does the drawing power lie in character, suggested action, the picture of a setting, the mood or atmosphere, in some bit of philosophy, or other appeal?
Do any of the stories fall below expectation first aroused? Why? How many fulfill the initial promise?
Which have the best endings? How many of these seemed inevitable from an early stage of the action? How many might have had diverse endings, altogether? How many might have used different incidents for the close, with the same general effect?
Which of the narratives seem to you most artistically representative of life?
According to the localities represented by these authors, try to arrive at the “short-story center” of the United States.
In the following studies, try to enter constructively into the processes indicated. Otherwise the exercises will lose part of their value.
STUDIES IN DETAIL
A SIMPLE ACT OF PIETY
GERMINAL IDEA: Captain Abdullah, an Asiatic, but educated partly, and living altogether, in the Occident, finds himself at times, he declares, in the position, less emotional than intellectual and cultural, where he has to make a choice between the ideals of East, or West of Suez. In addition, his friends often ask him to explain certain Oriental characteristics, motivations and viewpoints.
“Due either to a vital difference in the acceptance and usage of basic standards, or to my personal inability of expressing with the spoken word what I feel tersely to be true, I have always been unable in these discussions to express the one truth which I know; namely, that all this talk about the Orient being romantic and mysterious and rather high strung is asinine drivel, that indeed the shoe hurts on the other foot, and that it is the West which is romantic, both as to life and motivation of life, while the East is as drab and grey and square as a question in abstract dynamics.
“I make this claim chiefly in regard to the Chinese, who are the Orientals _par excellence_. I consider them the most logical, the most straight thinking, and by the same token, the most civilized race on earth, not excepting the Latins, the Hindus, the Arabs, or the Anglo-Saxons. I believe them to be the only people who live up to the sound dogma that two and two make four, and never four and a quarter, or three and two thirds. I hold that they are the easiest people in the world to understand, that they carry their hearts on their sleeves, and that they always mean exactly what they say, and say exactly what they mean, in direct contrast to the Occidentals....
“The starting point of my tale, a whole series of Chinatown tales, directly due to a conversation I had in Chicago with Mr. Ray Long of the _Red Book_, who said that since I seemed unable to interpret the Sons of the Middle Kingdom with the spoken word I should try the written word, was therefore the fundamental prosiness and simplicity of the Oriental, the Chinaman, in contrast to the complicated, suicidal emotionalism and maniacal psychologizing of the Occidental--the latter characteristic including a painful trick of dissecting emotions to such a degree that they cease to be emotions. I know China and the Chinese intimately, and am fairly familiar with some of their dialects.
“From a primitive, Occidental viewpoint, murder and a wife’s faithlessness seem to be the most important things. From an as primitive Eastern viewpoint, the same two things are the most negligible things. The thing which matters most to the Oriental is honor and piety, including their correct, codified outer observances.
“Thence my story.”
PLOT. Structurally perfect, the plot grows naturally out of character.
The order of presentation begins with the
_Dénouement_: Nag Hong Fah kills Señora Garcia.
_Circumstances antecedent_ to the story action are next presented.--1. Fanny’s marriage to Nag Hong Fah indicated in “She was his wife,” etc. 2. Account of Fanny. 3. Nag Hong Fah’s operations preceding the proposal. (Note the introduction of a second line of interest in the relations between Nag Hong Fah and Yung Long, and Yung Quai.) 4. The incident of the proposal. (Notice the clues: Fanny claims a right to the streets, a pointer which is augmented by the addition made, under her breath, to her promise, “I’ll play square?”)
_Initial Incident_: Through Nag Hong Fah’s invitation to Yung Long, “Come! Have a drink!” Fanny and Yung Long have opportunity to appraise each other.
_Steps toward Dramatic Climax_: 1. Nag Hong Fah pays cash to Yung Long, whom heretofore he has paid on ninety days’ leeway. (What does this signify as to the relations of the two Chinamen?)
2. Birth of Brian, Fanny’s son; the bestowal of gifts upon Fanny by her Chinese husband.
3. The incident between Fanny and her friend Mamie Ryan (to indicate that the Chink is playing square, and therefore Fanny). Indications of Fanny’s happiness.
4. Fanny is impressed by Yung Long but holds to her “squareness.”
5. Nag Hong Fah acquires an option on an uptown restaurant for his second son.
6. Little Fanny is born, bringing a “change into the marital relations”; this time, no gifts are bestowed.
7. Nag tells Fanny he has given up the option. This information on his part leads directly to the
_Dramatic Climax_: First peak: the excellent scene between Fanny and Nag Hong Fah, where the _racial struggle_ is best dramatized. Fanny’s imploring fails against the stony wall of Nag Hong Fah’s determination. All must be as he says; Little Fanny will be disposed of as he sees fit. With Fanny the greater wrong disappears in the lesser; she forgets her daughter’s education in recalling that she had received no presents at the child’s birth. “A bracelet.... That’s what I’m gonna get!” marks the beginning of the resolution of the complication, which has been so skilfully effected. The first peak of the climax is succeeded by the second peak: Yung Long in passing receives Fanny’s message, “Swell looker!”