Word: oppenheim
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When Henry Ford marketed his ten millionth flivver, a musician composed a symphonic poem to celebrate the event (TIME, April 25). Edward Phillips Oppenheim has now published his 100th novel,* and though not one of his creations has been a flivver, somebody should salute Mr. Oppenheim with at least a small trumpet...
Never was the Oppenheim genius more clearly displayed than at this century mark. Be it remembered that Mr. Oppenheim long since departed the ranks of writers who must sell books to live. He is now a bunchy, contented, wealthy man of 61 and only writes to live happily. He would be unhappy if made to stop writing, and he can afford to write in any manner he chooses. But he is grateful to the vast public that made him so independent. Observe the manner in which he has aimed to please extra specially with Novel...
...sooner sit home and read in the evenings than gad about at dance places?unless her girl chum is in town. To thousands and thousands of such young women any generous author of light fiction should feel a lasting debt of gratitude. Very well, then, such shall be Mr. Oppenheim's heroine; her name, just plain Edith Brown...
...Author. Mr. Oppenheim modestly disclaims credit for his so popular work and pretends that he does not aim to please. He says: "I do not know how a novel will develop when I begin it. I get a vision of about two good characters?the man, he's the main thing, and the woman, very secondary. These two elements, together with my first chapter, constitute my preparation. Then I live with my characters for a while?eat with them, walk with them, play golf with them. Finally they begin to act according to their own wills; then I let them...
...none can believe it is all as simple as that. Mr. Oppenheim has been writing stories ever since he can remember. His father, though he never published anything, was a story-teller before him and used to make the small Oppenheims each write out a story on Christmas Eve. Mr. Oppenheim, the father, wrote one himself. All the stories were read and voted on next day. The father's story always won the prize, until Edward Phillips Oppenheim...