Word: fictioneering
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Where the Progressive failed in printing fiction, the Advocate has done no better in non-fiction. Schwebel's article has little new for the reader of any news magazine. There is plenty of room at Harvard for a purely literary and critical publication, and if the Advocate concentrates on meeting this need, it will be successful. The long-awaited first post-war issue fills a gap that has existed for a year, and on the whole the result is encouraging. Its writing stimulating and pleasant, the Advocate gives every promise of taking an important place as the voice...
Steppenwolf tells the story, largely in dream events, of a fractured personality -Germany's, perhaps-tinged with Lutheran, Faustian, Nietzschean and Freudian influences, and in general quite a mess. An earnest, introverted work, full of prescience (World War II is assumed throughout), it stands, as fiction, deep in the shadow of Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain...
...situation that has arisen out of this action has been complicated by the legal fiction of private status that the Club 100 has resorted to in defense. The private social club has every right to choose its members selectively, using any criterion it sees fit. But the abuse of this right by a patently commercial tavern, operating quite openly for private profit and not for the social benefit of any select few who gather there, must not be mistaken for a legal or moral case. While Harvard students and all comers receive the mantle of membership at the door...
...Room on the Route is the best novel on Russia since Arthur Koestler's Darkness at Noon, though Koestler's book is still much the better. Written by a 40-year-old Australian, A Room on the Route has many qualities of traditional Russian fiction, including some that Russian writers have not recently dared to indulge. No Russian could write so honestly, and so far no Western visitor to Russia during the war has drawn such good fiction from his experience. Blunden was in Moscow for 14 months in 1942-43 as a correspondent for the Sydney Daily...
...Louie, a diffident but brutal tinhorn Don Juan, are clever little stories in themselves. He writes with delicacy of the blundering stratagems and satisfactions of an adolescent mechanic called Pimples. But in theme and design the novel is a disappointing piece of second-rate, back-to-the-bulls fiction. Moreover, Steinbeck writes carelessly. Mrs. Pritchard has never known a day's pain on page 64; on page 210 she begins to get one of her periodic, prostrating migraines...