Word: sherwoods
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Readers of history, biography and novels who wait for Mr. O'Brien's annual pronouncement to see what has been what in the short-story field, will applaud three rising young men this year, Barry Benefield, Nathan Asch, Glenway Wescott. The hardy perennials are welcome: Sherwood Anderson, Konrad Bercovici, Katharine Fullerton Gerould, Ring Lardner, Wilbur Daniel Steele and Elinor Wylie. Others: Sandra Alexander, Bella Cohen, Charles Caldwell Dobie, Rudolph Fisher, Walter Gilkyson, Manuel Komroff, Robert Robinson, Evelyn Scott, May Stanley, Milton Waldman, Barrett Willoughby...
...there have been books written as late as 1925 which have had some humor tucked beneath their sheets. "The Polyglots" had a whole lot--not the Lardner-Witwer-Sherwood-Benchley type, nor even the gentle-professorial-high-and-mighty type--but some real humor. And now someone asks, "What is real humor?" I suppose the best answer, aside from Dr. Cadman's who is now making Brooklyn the Delphi of America--the best answer is silence, since this is not a question and answer column nor is it inspired by the deft delightfulness of syndication. But I have lost...
...that fascinating lady after her return to Menelaus. Then there is "Bring! Bring!" by Conrad Aiken, good short stories with a bad title, a collection of the stories of Sarah Orne Jewett, "Caravan" by John Galsworthy, and Jane Austen's "Sanditon," hitherto unpublished. Despite the CRIMSON'S obituary of Sherwood Anderson, his "Dark Laughter" seems to me a great improvement over some of his other books. Michael Arien's "May Fair" is on the order of his other books, but after the first flash he becomes a little tiresome. Maurice Baring has produced another entertaining and delightfully written novel...
...this is much too romantic for a realistic age. Better the gargoyled truth of Sherwood Anderson's sardonic laughter, laughter which he finally admits is--black. But if life is not an afternoon of tea and toast and silver spoons, neither is it a night of sin, sex, and sentiment, and there is no particularly cogent reason why anyone should waste it reading laboratory manuals with colored jackets...
...with flashes of vivid realism, which creates a more startling illusion than would have been possible within the bounds of the old forms. This technique has not been confined to poetry, for an impressionism which resembles it strikingly, constitutes the chief charm of the works of such writers as Sherwood Anderson or John Dos Passos...