The Little Review, June-July 1915 (Vol. 2, No. 4) — John Shaqi
The Little Review, June-July 1915 (Vol. 2, No. 4)Various
General
The Little Review, June-July 1915 (Vol. 2, No. 4)
Various
Literature, Modern -- 20th century -- Periodicals
The Slavs are not adventurous people in the Western sense of the word;
for the most part an inland race spread over the great monotonous Plain,
they are inclined for melancholy introspective searchings and spiritual
struggles rather than for actual physical adventures. Their writers need
not create for their heroes an atmosphere of dizzying stunts and
elemental cataclysms; they find sufficient dramatic “plot” in the soul
experiences of the restless yearning men and women who dwell not on a
South Sea island but in ordinary cities and villages, fighting their
human fights, wrestling with God and man, gaining their ephemeral
victories, but more often suffering defeats. Yet, despite their lack of
adventurousness, the stories of the Russian and Polish writers, from
Dostoevsky to Kuprin and from Orzezsko to Zeromsky, have seldom caused a
yawn in their reader.
The checkered life of Conrad has placed a distinct stamp upon his works,
distinct from both the writers of his race and from the Western writers.
We observe a dualism in his art, an eternal collision between fact and
fiction, between realism and symbolism. His inborn Slavic mysticism is
weighed down by the ballast of his rich experiences, and he continually
wavers between the Scylla of lyric melancholy and the Charybdis of
picturesque plot, preserving the equilibrium at times more and at times
less skilfully. The reader thus finds in Conrad that which he is after.
For my part, I am rather distracted by the over-complex plot of
_Victory_; I should much prefer to meet Heyst and Lena in less dizzy
surroundings, for then the interesting psychology of the quaint lovers
would appear accentuated, like the flame of a candle, and would not be
blurred by a pyrotechnic mass of startling coincidences and marvellous
adventures. The atmosphere of Doom that breathes throughout the story is
reduced in the end to a sensational Eugène Sue-like climax—a heap of
dead bodies.
K.
SICK IDEALISM
_Erdgeist (Earth-Spirit): A Tragedy in Four Acts; Pandora’s Box, by
Frank Wedekind. New York: Albert and Charles Boni._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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