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Experiments in Convalescence
"Well,"yawnedTom,"I’veplayedconfidantagoodhourbytheclock.Still,I’mgladtoseeyou’rebeginningtohaveviolentviewsagainonsomething."
"Iam,"agreedAmoryreluctantly."YetwhenIseeahappyfamilyitmakesmesickatmystomach—"
"Happyfamiliestrytomakepeoplefeelthatway,"saidTomcynically.
TOMTHECENSOR
ThereweredayswhenAmorylistened.ThesewerewhenTom,wreathedinsmoke,indulgedintheslaughterofAmericanliterature.Wordsfailedhim.
"Fiftythousanddollarsayear,"hewouldcry."MyGod!Lookatthem,lookatthem—EdnaFerber,GouverneurMorris,FannyHurst,MaryRobertsRinehart—notproducingamong’emonestoryornovelthatwilllasttenyears.ThismanCobb—Idon’ttinkhe’seithercleveroramusing—andwhat’smore,Idon’tthinkverymanypeopledo,excepttheeditors.He’sjustgroggywithadvertising.And—ohHaroldBellWrightohZaneGrey—"
"Theytry."
"No,theydon’teventry.Someofthemcanwrite,buttheywon’tsitdownanddoonehonestnovel.Mostofthemcan’twrite,I’lladmit.IbelieveRupertHughestriestogiveareal,comprehensivepictureofAmericanlife,buthisstyleandperspectivearebarbarous.ErnestPooleandDorothyCanfieldtrybutthey’rehinderedbytheirabsolutelackofanysenseofhumor;butatleasttheycrowdtheirworkinsteadofspreadingitthin.Everyauthoroughttowriteeverybookasifheweregoingtobebeheadedthedayhefinishedit."
