Allan Massies asks whether a novelist can wirte too well
There is no one way to write a novel. That’s surely obvious. In an essay on François Mauriac, Graham Greene declared himself ‘tired of the dogmatically “pure” novel, the tradition founded by Flaubert and reaching its magnificent tortuous climax in England in the works of Henry James’, whose novels, one may add, do satisfy Burgess’s call for ‘a journey into the unknown’ with the prose conveying ‘the difficulties of that journey’ — difficulties for the reader too, often enough. Instead Greene applauded Mauriac as ‘a writer who claims the traditional and essential right of the novelist, to comment, to express his views . . . Even the author, poor devil, has a right to exist.’
There is pleasure to be had from following a novelist on a voyage of exploration, one in which the style reflects uncertainties, a novel written as it were in answer to the question, ‘how do I know what I think till I see what I’ve said?’. But there is equal pleasure, if of a different order, to be got from the novelist who, like Mauriac or indeed Waugh, uses events, not to change characters, but to reveal them. If one style, hesitating, probing, mazy, is suited to one kind of novel, then a different style, lucid, terse, epigrammatic in judgment, fits another.
The truth is that almost any style, even the plainest and most clichéd, weary man-of-the world manner, such as Maugham’s, may do very well if it accords with the author’s material. A novelist may write admirably, like Hemingway, in short, simple sentences, clear as a mountain stream, or, like Proust, in long, twisting ones, full of qualifications, a style like an overgrown garden full of unexpected delights. To my mind only that style which draws attention to itself and distracts from the matter is intolerable. But here too others disagree, finding rich pleasure in, for instance, Nabokov.
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Freddie Fyford
June 12th, 2008 11:30amHow telling that Burgess should affect an attachment to this kind of mimetic fallacy.
A stumbling clumsiness of style at best is just another style, after all, not a badge of sincerity or exploration.
At worst, it's sheer laziness.
NorthBriton
June 12th, 2008 12:34pmI think you are a little unkind to Burgess. He was certainly a good, and often very generous, reviewer. However his novels are enormously entertaining and give proper scope to his vitality and creativity. Try "Nothing Like the Sun", the Malayan trilogy or the Enderby novels.
Richard Robinson
June 12th, 2008 3:34pmIf a novelist cannot wirte too well, can he write two well?
steveharris
June 12th, 2008 9:38pm'Wirte'? Is this a word or has The Specator succumbed, like the rest of the nation before it, to terminal illiteracy?
Ed Lancey
June 12th, 2008 10:07pmSad to see you drag poor old Burgess out of his grave in order to throw stones at him. I'm sure you could have outlined the same point (whatever it was) without having a go at AB.
John A London
June 12th, 2008 11:51pmA true wirter knows the importance of slelping.
JohnA London
June 13th, 2008 12:09amFord was a hardworking and much underrated genius, Waugh a highly-talented amateur. Burgess doesn't rate on the scale at all.
Maugham - 'plainest and most clichéd style'?? Read his autobiographical work, the short stories. If I managed respectable best-sellerdom, a villa in the South of France and a sybaritic lifestyle out of that 'plain and clichéd' style, that'd do me fine.
As for James, the prose becomes more tortuous because he wasn't writing, he was speaking, dictating to an amanuensis, as he paced around the room. Try to read and understand the opening sentence of 'The Golden Bowl' (there's a comma missing and one misplaced) and you see what's gone wrong there. Irritating, but the flow and psychology of the book is so compelling, those prissy mannerisms don't stand in the way.
Edward Barnard
June 13th, 2008 7:38pmHas Mr Massie gone off Somerset Maugham ? I thought he used to like him. Perhaps he has not read Maugham's 'The Summing Up' and, in particular, his thoughts on the importance of 'lucidity, simplicity and euphony' in good prose.
Evelyn Waugh himself, in this magazine in 1939, speaks of his respect for Maugham's 'mastery of his trade'. Maugham was the only living writer, Waugh felt, 'under whom one can study with profit.'
Nice article, anyway, as usual.
Daniel Miller
June 17th, 2008 10:00pmSuch an interesting article!
But with this point: "There is after all no good reason why the novelist shouldn’t have settled opinions, a fixed point of view, and even deliver himself of lapidary judgments."
I side with Burgess. What is the point of writing at all, if it comes down in the end to a police operation?
Emma Darwin
August 25th, 2008 6:53pm"To my mind only that style which draws attention to itself and distracts from the matter is intolerable. But here too others disagree, finding rich pleasure in, for instance, Nabokov."
I enjoy Nabokov, so I suppose I would disagree with this. One of the possible pleasures of reading fiction is to delight in the language itself: it's the equivalent of enjoying the brushwork in a painting. If it adds to the overall power of the work for us, we enjoy it, if for us it works against what the other elements are doing, we say it's distracting or even intolerable. All good writers work very hard to find the balance between means (language, brushwork) and end (character, storytelling) that suits what they have to say, though readers may not agree that they've got the balance right.