AN INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE SHORT-STORY
Fiction
as an art has made more progress during the last hundred years than
any other literary type. The first half of the nineteenth century
especially developed a consciousness of subject matter and form in
both the novel and the short-story which has created an epoch as
notable in the history of fiction as was the age of Shakespeare in
the progress of the drama. In Great Britain, France, Russia,
Germany,
and America arose fictional artists of distinguished ability, while
in other nations writers of scarcely less merit soon
followed.The
novel demands a special study, so even for its relation to our
theme—the short-story—the reader must be referred to such works
as specialize on the longer form.[1]A
comprehensive treatment of the short-story would include an inquiry
into the origins of all short fictional forms, for every story that
is short is popularly knownas
a short story. The fullest and best guide for such a study is Henry
Seidel Canby’s historical and critical treatise,
The Short Story in English.Naturally,
an inquiry into origins would prove to be measurably profitless and
certainly dry for the general student were it not supplemented by
the
reading of a great many stories—preferably in the original—which
illustrate the steps in short-story development from earliest
times.[2]A
further field for a comprehensive survey would be a critical
comparison of the modern form with its several ancestral and
contributory forms, from original sources.A
third examen would be devoted to the characteristics and tendencies
of the present-day short-story as presented in volume form and,
particularly, in the modern magazine.A
fourth, would undertake to study the rhetoric of the form.[3]None
of these sorts of study can be exhaustively presented in this
volume,
yet all are touched upon so suggestively and with such full
references that the reader may himself pursue the themes with what
fullness he elects. The special field herein covered will be, I
believe, sufficiently apparent as the reader proceeds.Let
it be understood from the outstart that throughout this volume the
term short-story is used rather loosely to cover a wide variety of
short fiction; yet presently it will be necessary to show precisely
how the modern form differs from its fictive ancestors, and that
distinction will assume some importance to those who care about
recognizing the several short fictional forms and who enjoy calling
things by their exact names.The
first story-teller was that primitive man who in his wanderings
afield met some strange adventure and returned to his fellows to
narrate it. His narration was a true story. The first
fictionist—perhaps it was the same hairy savage—was he who,
having chosen to tell his adventure, also resolved to add to it
some
details wrought of his own fancy. That was fiction, because while
the
story was compounded of truth it was worked out by the aid of
imagination, and so was close kin to the story born entirely of
fancy
which merely uses true-seeming things, or veritable contributory
facts, to make the story “real.”Egyptian
tales, recorded on papyrus sheets, date back six thousand years.
Adventure was their theme, while gods and heroes, beasts and
wonders,
furnished their incidents. When love was introduced, obscenities
often followed, so that the ancient tales of pure adventure are
best
suited to present-day reading.What
is true of Egypt 4000 B. C. is equally true of Greece many
centuries
later. The Homeric storieswill
serve as specimens of adventure narrative; and the Milesian tales
furnish the erotic type.As
for the literary art of these early fictions, we need only refer to
ancient poetry to see how perfect was its development two thousand
and more years ago; therefore—for the poets were story-tellers—we
need not marvel at the majestic diction, poetic ideas, and dramatic
simplicity of such short-stories as the Egyptian “Tales of the
Magicians,”[4]fully
six thousand years old; the Homeric legends, told possibly
twenty-five hundred years ago;[5]
“
The
Book of Esther,”[6]written
more than twenty-one hundred years ago; and the stories by Lucius
Apuleius, in The
Golden Ass,[7]quite
two thousand years old.In
form these ancient stories were of three types: the anecdote (often
expanded beyond the normal limits of anecdote); the scenario, or
outline of what might well have been told as a longer story; and
the
tale, or straightforward chain of incidents with no real
complicating
plot.Story-telling
maintained much the same pace until the early middle ages, when the
sway of religious ideas was felt in every department of life.
Superstition had always vested the forces of nature with more than
natural attributes, so that the wonder tale was normally the
companion of the war or adventure story. But now the power of the
Christian religion was laying hold upon all minds, and the
French
conte dévot, or
miracle story, recitedthe
wonderful doings of the saints in human behalf, or told how some
pious mystic had encountered heavenly forces, triumphed over demons
and monsters of evil, and performed prodigies of piety.These
tales were loosely hung together, and exhibited none of the
compression and sense of orderly climax characteristic of the
short-story to-day. In style the early medieval stories fell far
below classic models, naturally enough, for language was feeling
the
corrupting influences of that inrush of barbarian peoples which at
length brought Rome to the dust, while culture was conserved only
in
out-of-the-way places. In form these narratives were chiefly the
tale, the anecdote, and the episode, by which I mean a fragmentary
part of a longer tale with which it had little or no organic
connection.The
conte dévot in
England was even more crude, for Old English was less polished than
the speech of France and its people more heroic than
literary.When
we come to the middle of the fourteenth century we find in two
great
writers a marked advancement: Chaucer’s
Canterbury Tales
and Boccaccio’s
Decameron—the
former superior to the latter in story-telling art—opened up rich
mines of legend, adventure, humor, and human interest. All
subsequent
narrators modeled their tales after these patterns. Chaucer’s “The
Pardoner’s Tale” has many points in common with the modern
short-story, and so has Boccaccio’s
novella, “Rinaldo,”
but these approaches to what we now recognize as the short-story
type
were not so much by conscious intention as by a groping after an
ideal which was only dimlyexistent
in their minds—so dimly, indeed, that even when once attained it
seems not to have been pursued. For the most part the
fabliaux[8]of
Chaucer and the
novelle[9]of
Boccaccio were rambling, loosely knit, anecdotal, lacking in the
firmly fleshed contours of the modern short-story. Even the
Gesta Romanorum, or
Deeds of the Romans—181
short legends and stories first printed about 1473—show the same
ear marks.About
the middle of the sixteenth century appeared
The Arabian Nights,
that magic carpet which has carried us all to the regions of
breathless delight. The story of “Ali Baba and The Forty Thieves,”
for one, is as near an approach to our present-day short-story as
was
Irving’s “Rip Van Winkle,” and quite unsurpassed in all the
literature of wonder-tales.Thus
for two thousand years—yes, for six thousand years—the essentials
of short story narration were unchanged. What progress had been
made
was toward truth-seeming, clearer characterization, and a finer
human
interest, yet so surpassing in these very respects are some of the
ancient stories that they remain models to-day. Chiefly, then, the
short fiction of the eighteenth century showed progress over that
of
earlier centuries in that it was much more consistently produced by
amuch
greater number of writers—so far as our records show.Separately
interesting studies of the eighteenth-century essay-stories of
Addison, Steele, Johnson and others in the English periodicals,
the
Spectator,
Tatler,
Rambler,
Idler, and
Guardian might well
be made, for these forms lead us directly to Hawthorne and Irving
in
America. Of almost equal value would be a study of Defoe’s ghost
stories (1727) and Voltaire’s development of the protean French
detective-story, in his “Zadig,” twenty years later.With
the opening of the nineteenth century the marks of progress are
more
decided. The first thirty years brought out a score of the most
brilliant story-tellers imaginable, who differ from Poe and his
followers only in this particular—they were still perfecting the
tale, the sketch, the expanded anecdote, the episode, and the
scenario, for they had neither for themselves nor for their
literary
posterity set up a new standard, as Poe was to do so very
soon.Of
this fecund era were born the German weird tales of Ernst Amadeus
Hoffmann and J. L. Tieck; the
Moral Tales of
Maria Edgeworth, and the fictional episodes of Sir Walter Scott in
Scotland; the anecdotal tales and the novelettes of Prosper Mérimée
and Charles Nodier in France; the tales of Pushkin, the father of
Russian literature; and the tale-short-stories of Washington Irving
and Nathaniel Hawthorne in America. Here too lies a fascinating
field
of study, over which to trace the approach towards that final form,
so to call it, whichwas
both demonstrated and expounded by Poe. It must suffice here to
observe that Irving preferred the easy-flowing essay-sketch, and
the
delightful, leisurely tale (with certain well-marked tendencies
toward a compact plot), rather than the closely organized plot
which
we nowadays recognize as the special possession of the
short-story.In
France, from 1830 to 1832, Honoré de Balzac produced a series of
notable short-stories which, while marvels of narration, tend to be
condensed novels in plot, novelettes in length, or expanded
anecdotes. However, together with the stories of Prosper Mérimée,
they furnish evidence for a tolerably strong claim that the modern
short-story was developed as a fixed form in France before it was
discovered in America—a claim, however, which lacks the elements of
entire solidity, as a more critical study would show.From
1830 on, it would require a catalogue to name, and volumes to
discuss, the array of European and American writers who have
produced
fictional narratives which have more or less closely approached the
short-story form. Until 1835, when Edgar Allan Poe wrote “Berenice”
and “The Assignation,” the approaches to the present form were
sporadic and unsustained and even unconscious, so far as we may
argue
from the absence of any critical standard. After that year both Poe
and others seemed to strive more definitely for the close plot, the
repression of detail, the measurable unity of action, and the
singleness of effect which Poe clearly defined and expounded in
1842.Since
Poe’s notable pronouncement, the place of the short-story as a
distinctive literary form has been attested by the rise and growth
of
a body of criticism, in the form of newspaper and magazine
articles,
volumes given broadly to the consideration of fiction, and books
devoted entirely to the short-story. Many of these contributions to
the literature of criticism are particularly important because
their
authors were the first to announce conclusions regarding the form
which have since been accepted as standard; others have traced with
a
nice sense of comparison the origin and development of those
earlier
forms of story-telling which marked the more or less definite
stages
of progress toward the short-story type as at present recognized;
while still others are valuable as characterizing effectively the
stories of well-known writers and comparing the progress which each
showed as the short-story moved on toward its present high
place.Some
detailed mention of these writings, among other critical and
historical productions, may be of value here, without at all
attempting a bibliography, but merely naming chronologically the
work
of those critics who have developed one or more phases of the
subject
with particular effectiveness.[10]Interesting
and informing as all such historical and comparative research work
certainly is, it must proveto
be of greater value to the student than to the fiction writer.
True,
the latter may profit by a profound knowledge of critical
distinctions, but he is more likely, for a time at least, to find
his
freedom embarrassed by attempting to adhere too closely to form,
whereas in fiction a chief virtue is that spontaneity which
expresses
itself.But
there would seem to be some safe middle-ground between a flouting
of
all canons of art, arising from an utter ignorance and contempt of
the history of any artistic form, and a timid and tied-up
unwillingness to do anything in fiction without first inquiring,
“Am
I obeying the laws as set forth by the critics?” The short-story
writer should be no less unhampered because he has learned the
origin
and traced the growth of the ancient fiction-forms and learned to
say
of his own work, or that of others, “Here is a fictional sketch,
here a tale, and here a short-story”—if, indeed, he does not
recognize in it a delightful hybrid.By
far the most important contribution to the subject of short-story
criticism was made by Edgar Allan Poe, when in May, 1842, he
published in
Graham’s Magazine
a review of Hawthorne’s
Tales, in which he
announced his theory of the short-story—a theory which is regarded
to-day as the soundest of any yet laid down.In
1876, Friedrich Spielhagen pointed out in his
Novelle oder Roman
the essential distinction between the novel and the
short-story.[11]In
1884, Professor Brander Matthews published in the
Saturday Review,
London, and in 1885 published in
Lippincott’s Magazine,
“The Philosophy of the Short-story,” in which, independently of
Spielhagen, he announced the essential distinction between the
novel
and the short-story, and pointed out its peculiarly individual
characteristics. In a later book-edition, he added greatly to the
original essay by a series of quotations from other critics and
essayists, and many original comparisons between the writings of
master short-story tellers.In
March 11, 1892, T. W. Higginson contributed to
The Independent an
article on “The Local Short-Story,” which was the first known
discussion of that important type.In
1895, Sherwin Cody published anonymously in London the first
technical treatise on the rhetoric of the short-story, “The Art of
Story Writing.”In
1896, Professor E. H. Lewis instituted in Chicago University the
first course of instruction in the art of story-writing.In
1898, Charles Raymond Barrett published the first large work
on
Short Story Writing,
with a complete analysis of Hawthorne’s “The Ambitious Guest,”
and many important suggestions for writers.In
the same year Charity Dye first applied pedagogical principles to
the
study of the short story, in
The Story-Teller’s Art.In
1902, Professor Lewis W. Smith published a brochure,
The Writing of the Short Story,
in which psychologicalprinciples
were for the first time applied to the study and the writing of the
short-story.In
1902, Professor H. S. Canby issued
The Short Story, in
which the theory of impressionism was for the first time developed.
In 1903, this essay was included in
The Book of the Short Story,
Alexander Jessup collaborating, together with specimens of stories
from the earliest times and lists of tales and short-stories
arranged
by periods.In
1904, Professor Charles S. Baldwin developed a criticism of
American Short Stories
which has been largely followed by later writers.In
1909, Professor H. S. Canby produced
The Short Story in English,
the first voluminous historical and critical study of the origins,
forms, and content of the short-story.I
have dwelt upon the history of the short-story thus in outline
because we often meet the inquiry—sometimes put ignorantly,
sometimes skeptically—What is a short-story? Is it anything more
than a story that is short?The
passion for naming and classifying all classes of literature may
easily run to extreme, and yet there are some very great values to
be
secured by both the reader and the writer in arriving at some
understanding of what literary terms mean. To establish
distinctions
among short fictive forms is by no means to assert that types which
differ from the technical short-story are therefore of a lower
order
of merit. Many specimens of cognate forms possess an interest which
surpasses that of short-stories typically perfect.Ever
since Poe differentiated the short-story from the mere short
narrative we have come to a clearer apprehension of what this form
really means. I suppose that no one would insist upon the standards
of the short-story as being the criterion of merit for short
fiction—certainly I should commit no such folly in attempting to
establish an understanding, not to say a definition, of the form.
More than that: some short-stories which in one or more points come
short of technical
perfection doubtless possess a human interest and a charm quite
lacking in others which are technically perfect—just as may be the
case with pictures.Some
things, however, the little fiction must contain to come
technically
within the class of perfect short-stories. It must be centralized
about one predominating incident—which may be supported by various
minor incidents. This incident must intimately concern one central
character—and other supporting characters, it may be. The story
must move with a certain degree of directness—that is, there must
be a thorough exclusion of such detail as is needless. This central
situation or episode or incident constitutes, in its working out,
the
plot; for the plot must not only have a crisis growing out of a
tie-up or crossroads or complication, but the very essence of the
plot will consist in the resolution or untying or denouement of the
complication.Naturally,
the word plot will suggest to many a high degree of complexity; but
this is by no means necessary in order to establish the claims of a
fictitious narrative to being a short-story. Indeed, some of the
best
short-storiesare
based upon a very slender complication; in other words, their plots
are not complex.Elsewhere[12]I
have defined the short-story, and this statement may serve to
crystallize the foregoing. “A short-story is a brief, imaginative
narrative, unfolding a single predominating incident and a single
chief character; it contains a plot, the details of which are so
compressed, and the whole treatment so organized, as to produce a
single impression.”But
some of these points need to be amplified.A
short-story is brief not merely from the fact that it contains
comparatively few words, but in that it is so compressed as to omit
non-essential elements. It must be the narration of a single
incident, supported, it may be, by other incidents, but none of
these
minor incidents must rival the central incident in the interest of
the reader. A single character must be preëminent, but a pair of
characters coördinate in importance may enjoy this single
preëminence in the story, yet no minor characters must come to
overshadow the central figure. The story will be imaginative, not
in
the sense that it must be imaginary, or that the facts in the story
may not be real facts, but they must be handled and organized in an
imaginative way, else it would be plain fact and not fiction. The
story must contain a plot; that is to say, it must exhibit a
character or several characters in crisis—for in plot the important
word is crisis—and the denouement is the resolution of this crisis.
Finally, the whole must be so organized as to leave a unified
impressionupon
the mind of the reader—it must concentrate and not diffuse
attention and interest.All
of the same qualities that inhere in the short-story may also be
found in the novelette, except that the novelette lacks the
compression, unity and simplicity of the short-story and is
therefore
really a short novel. Both the novel and the novelette admit of
sub-plots, a large number of minor incidents, and even of
digressions, whereas these are denied to the short-story, which
throws a white light on a single crucial instance of life, some
character in its hour of crisis, some soul at the crossroads of
destiny.There
is a tendency nowadays to give a mere outline of a story—so to
condense it, so to make it swift, that the narration amounts to
merely an outline without the flesh and blood of the true
short-story. In other words, there is a tendency to call a scenario
of a much longer story—for instance the outline of a novelette—a
short-story. This extreme is as remote from the well-rounded
short-story form as the leisurely novelette, padded out with
infinite
attention to detail.The
tale differs from the short-story in that it is merely a succession
of incidents without any real sense of climax other, for example,
than might be given by the close of a man’s life, the ending of a
journey, or the closing of the day. The tale is a chain; the
short-story is a tree. The links of the chain may be extended
indefinitely, but there comes a time when the tree can grow no
longer
and still remain a perfect tree. The tale is practically without
organization and without plot—there [Pg xxviii] is little crisis,
and the result of the crisis, if any there be, would be of no vital
importance to the characters, for no special change in their
relations to each other grows out of the crisis in the tale.A
sketch is a lighter, shorter, and more simple form of fiction than
the short-story. It exhibits character in a certain stationary
situation, but has no plot, nor does it disclose anything like a
crisis from which a resolution or denouement is demanded. It might
almost be called a picture in still life were it not that the
characters are likely to live and to move.In
these introductory pages I have emphasized and reëmphasized these
distinctions in various ways, because to me they seem to be
important. But after all they are merely historical and technical.
A
man may be a charming fellow and altogether admirable even if his
complexion quarrels with his hair and his hands do not match his
feet
in relative size.The
present tendency of the British and American short-story is a
matter
of moment because no other literary form commands the interest of
so
many writers and readers. All literature is feeling the hand of
commerce, but the short-story is chiefly threatened. The magazine
is
its forum, and the magazine must make money or suspend. Hence the
chief inquiry of the editor is, What stories will make my magazine
sell? And this is his attitude because his publisher will no longer
pay a salary to an editor whose magazine must be endowed, having no
visible means of support.These
conditions force new standards to be set up. The story must have
literary merit, it must be true to life, it must deal sincerely
with
great principles—up to the limit of popularity. Beyond that it must
not be literary, truthful, or sincere. Popularity first, then the
rest—if possible.All
this is a serious indictment of the average magazine, but it is
true.
Only a few magazines regard their fiction as literature and not as
merely so much merchandise, to be cut to suit the length of pages,
furnish situations for pictures, and create subscriptions by
readers.
Yet somehow this very commercialized standard is working much good
in
spite of itself. It is demanding the best workmanship, and is
paying
bright men and women to abandon other pursuits in order to master a
good story-telling method. It is directing the attention of our
ablest literators to a teeming life all about them when otherwise
they might lose themselves in abstractions “up in the air.” It
is, for business reasons, insisting upon that very compression to
which Maupassant attained in the pursuit of art. It is building up
a
standard of precise English which has already advanced beyond the
best work of seventy years ago—though it has lost much of its
elegance and dignity.In
a word, the commercialized short-story is a mirror of the times—it
compasses movement, often at the expense of fineness, crowds
incidents so rapidly that the skeleton has no space in which to
wear
its flesh, and prints stories mediocre and worse because better
ones
will not be received with sufficient applause.But
while the journalized short-story adopts the hasty standards of the
newspaper because the public is too busy to be critical, in some
other respects it mirrors the times more happily. The lessons of
seriousness it utters with the lips of fun. Its favorite implement
is
a rake, but it does uncover evils that ought not to remain hidden.
Finally, it concerns itself with human things, and tosses
speculations aside; it carefully records our myriad-form local life
as the novel cannot; and it has wonderfully developed in all
classes
the sense of what is a good story, and that is a question more
fundamental to all literature than some critics might admit.Here
then is a new-old form abundantly worth study, for its
understanding,
its appreciation, and its practise. If there is on one side a
danger
that form may become too prominent and spirit too little, there are
balancing forces to hold things to a level. The problems, projects
and sports of the day are, after all, the life of the day, and as
such they furnish rightful themes. Really, signs are not wanting
that
point to the truth of this optimistic assertion: The mass of the
people will eventually do the right, and they will at length bring
out of the commercialized short-story a vital literary form too
human
to be dull and too artistic to be bad.SUGGESTIVE
QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES FOR CLASSOR
INDIVIDUAL STUDY OF A SHORT-STORY1.
Estimating from an average page, how many words has this
story?2.
What type of story is it chiefly?3.
Does it subordinately illustrate any other types also? If so,
which?4.
Is the title adequate?5.
What is its theme?6.
Write out a brief scenario of the plot.7.
Are the incidents arranged in effective order?8.
How many characters (a) speak, (b) are present but do not speak,
(c)
are referred to but are not present?9.
Are the characters idealized, or are they quite true to
life?10.
Are the characters individualized? Point out how the author
accomplishes this result.11.
What is the author’s attitude toward his characters?12.
What is the proportion of dialogue to description and
comment?13.
What do you think of the dialogue?14.
Do you regard this story as being realistic, romantic, idealistic,
or
composite?15.
Is the author’s purpose apparent? If so, what is it?16.
Are there any weak points in the plot?17.
Is the introduction interesting and clear?18.
Does the story end satisfactorily?19.
Is the conclusion either too long or too short?20.
Would any parts of the story be improved either by shortening or by
expanding? Be specific.21.
Does the story arouse in you any particular feeling, or
mood?22.
What are the especially strong points of the story?23.
Write a general appreciation, using about two hundred words.24.
What is the final impression the story makes upon you?NOTENine
distinct methods for the study of a novel are outlined in the
appendix to The
Study of a Novel,
by Selden L. Whitcomb. Some of these may be applied to the
short-story. Some excellent study methods and questions are given
in
The Writing of the Short Story,
by Lewis Worthington Smith.FOOTNOTES:
[1]
Excellent
and comprehensive works, dealing more especially with the English
novel, are: The
English Novel,
Sidney Lanier (Scribners,
1883, 1897); The
Development of the English Novel,
Wilbur L. Cross (Macmillan,
1899); The Evolution
of the English Novel,
Francis Hovey Stoddard (Macmillan,
1900); A Study of
Prose Fiction,
Bliss Perry (Houghton-Mifflin, 1902);
The Study of A Novel,
Selden L. Whitcomb (Heath, 1905);
The Technique of the Novel,
Charles F. Horne (Harpers,
1908); Materials and
Methods of Fiction,
Clayton Hamilton (Baker-Taylor, 1908).
[2]
Good
collections arranged historically are,
The Book of the Short Story,
Alexander Jessup and Henry Seidel Canby; and
The Short-story,
Brander Matthews. The former contains lists of stories short and
long
grouped by periods.
[3]
A
full study of this character has been attempted in the present
author’s Writing
The Short-Story,
Hinds, Hayden and Eldredge. New York, 1909.
[4]
Egyptian
Tales, W. M.
Flinders Petrie.
[5]
Stories
from Homer, Church.
[6]
The
Bible as English Literature,
J. H. Gardiner.
[7]
A
History of Latin Literature,
George A. Simcox.
[8]
The
fabliau, a French
form adopted by the English, is an amusing story told in verse,
generally of eight-syllable line. Another poetic form of the period
is the lai,
a short metrical romance.
[9]
The
Italian novella
was popular in England down to the late Elizabethan period. It is a
diverting little story of human interest but told with no moral
purpose, even when it is reflective. In purpose it is the direct
opposite of the
exemplum, which is
a moral tale told to teach a lesson, and may be compared to the
“illustration” which the exhorter repeats in the pulpit
to-day.
[10]
For
a fuller examination of the bibliography of the subject refer to
the
bibliographical notes in the books by Matthews, Baldwin, Perry,
Jessup and Canby, Canby, Dye, C. A. Smith, and the editor of this
volume—all referred to in detail elsewhere herein. A supplementary
bibliographical note will also be found on p. 433.
[11]
For
this important record of the discriminations of a critic little
known
in America, we are indebted to Professor C. Alphonso Smith’s work
on The American
Short Story.
[12]
Writing
the Short-Story, p.
30.