In the New York _Evening Post_[7] the present
writer observed:
"A backward glance over the short stories of the preceding twelve
months discovers two facts. There are many of them, approximately
between fifteen hundred and two thousand; there are, comparatively,
few of merit."
[Footnote 6: The National Letters, in _Prejudices_, second series,
Knopf, N.Y., 1920.]
[Footnote 7: April 24, 1920.]
"You have looked from the rear platform of the limited, across the
widening distance, at a town passed a moment ago. A flourishing city,
according to the prospectus; a commonplace aggregation of
architecture, you say; respectable middle-class homes; time-serving
cottages built on the same plan; a heaven-seeking spire; perhaps a
work of art in library or townhall. You are rather glad that you
have left it behind; rather certain that soon you will have rolled
through another, its counterpart.
"But there may be hope, here, of sorts. For a typical American town
represents twentieth century life and development, just as current
short stories reflect conditions. If the writer failed to represent
his age, to reflect its peculiar images, he would not serve it truly."
It is significant that these words preceded by only a few months the
publication of Sinclair Lewis's "Main Street," which illustrates in
a big and popular way the point in question.
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