Gods of Modern Grub Street: Impressions of Contemporary AuthorsAdcock, Arthur St. John
History
Gods of Modern Grub Street: Impressions of Contemporary Authors
Adcock, Arthur St. John
English fiction -- 20th century -- History and criticism; English literature -- 20th century -- History and criticism
Before he was half-way through his teens, he had been writing stories
which were not published and can never now be brought against him,
for he is shrewdly self-critical and all that juvenilia has been
ruthlessly destroyed. He was contributing to _Punch_ in 1908, and
a little later had become a reviewer on the staff of that late and
much lamented evening paper the _Westminster Gazette_. Among the
destroyed juvenilia was more than one novel. In what leisure he could
get from his advertising and reviewing, he was busy on another which
was not destined to that inglorious end. For though “Jacob Stahl” was
rejected by the first prominent publisher to whom it was offered,
because, strangely enough, he considered it old-fashioned, it was
promptly accepted by the second, and its publication in 1911 was the
real beginning of Beresford’s literary career. Had it been really
old-fashioned, it would have delighted the orthodox reading public,
which is always the majority, but its appeal was rather to the new
and more advanced race of readers, and though its sales were not
astonishing, its mature narrative skill and sound literary qualities
were unhesitatingly recognized by the discriminating; it gave him
a reputation, and has held its ground and gone on selling steadily
ever since. One felt the restrained power of the book, alike in the
narrative and in the intimate realization of character; its careful
artistry did not bid for popularity, but it ranked its author, at once,
as a novelist who was considerably more than the mere teller of a
readable tale.
“Jacob Stahl” was the first volume in a trilogy (the other two
being “A Candidate for Truth” and “The Invisible Event”)--a trilogy
which unfolds a story of common life that might easily have been
throbbing with sentiment and noisy with melodramatic sensation; in
Mr. Beresford’s reticent hands, however, it is never overcharged
with either, but is touched only with the natural emotions, subdued
excitements, unexaggerated poignancies of feeling that are experienced
by such men and women as we know in the world as we know it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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