Why Fiction?

My latest at Eclectica…

In his essay on Gogol, V. S. Pritchett wrote about “the carelessness, the lethargy, the enormous bad taste of genius, its liability to accident, it’s slovenly and majestic conceit that anything will do. Don Quixote falls in half, the Chartreuse and Le Rouge et le Noir go shockingly to pieces, Tolstoy stuffs a history book into War and Peace, Fielding and Dickens pad and Dostoevsky wanders into ideological journalism…” Pritchett contrasted these faults in the great novelists of the 19th century with the modern novel which, he says, “has reached such a pitch of competence and shapeliness that we are shocked at the disorderliness of the masterpieces.” But in contrast to the unfinished patchiness of their antecedents, “In the modern novel we are looking at a neatly barbered suburban garden,” while in the greats, “We feel the force of a great power which is never entirely spent, but which cannot be bothered to fulfill itself.”

Not quite what we were taught in our English lit courses. But, true enough, it seems to me, and even more so since the ascendancy of post-modernism. The conclusion one reaches, or at least the one that has nagged at me for years, is that we who practice the art of fiction in contemporary times do so in a kind of silver or perhaps bronze age, unable to reach the heights of the 24-caret stuff produced by those lazy geniuses of the 18th and 19th centuries. We may write, some of us, with good form in carefully constructed sentences, but we’re just not made of the same stuff as a Dostoevsky or a Jane Austen….

Continue reading…

About Thomas J. Hubschman

Thomas J. Hubschman is the author of Look at Me Now, My Bess, Song of the Mockingbird, Billy Boy, Father Walther’s Temptation, The Jew’s Wife & Other Stories and three science fiction novels. His work has appeared in New York Press, The Antigonish Review, Eclectica, The Blue Moon Review and many other publications. Two of his short stories were broadcast on the BBC World Service.

Posted on November 24, 2019, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. It is fascinating to read this post, Tom, as you explore using the history of the world of fiction. It is totally beyond my knowledge base to be able to do that. But what is surprising to me is that I have reached the same conclusion as you. I have totally rejected the goal of wanting to become one of the “great ones,” or even of honoring them. Whether we call the saints or celebrities, great rulers or immensely accomplished artists, the hugely rich, people with honors or thousands of followers on social media, these are not those whose lives I admire or whose values are important to an enduring, fulfilling society. The most important things so often seem so small, are unnoticed, or taken for granted.

    Thank you. Terry

  2. Thomas J. Hubschman

    Apologies for not seeing your comments till today. WordPress doesn’t seem to notifying me any longer when I get a response.

    I agree, Terry. The important things are the ones that get the least attention — at least the things that are important to me. The offhand, casual harsh word. The humiliation a parent must endure in the presence of her young child. A thoughtless or inconsiderate act on the part of a loved one. And the opposite as well. The small attention that makes all the difference in getting through a difficult situation, an expression of genuine gratitude.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: