Chapter 21 Comments on "The Anatomy of the Novel"

Sometimes, at a country fair, you may have seen a professor stand on a podium and urge the farmers to come and buy his panacea.Whatever their ailments, physical or mental, he could name and suggest a remedy; Pointing sticks at various anatomical parts of the body, breathlessly uttering a long string of Latin terms, the first peasant steps forward timidly and hesitantly, and then another , they bought his big pill and went off to unwrap it quietly and swallow it hopefully. "Those who consider themselves young writers who are budding in the art of fiction," Mr. Hamilton yelled from the podium, and the budding realists stepped up to accept—for the professor was generous. —five pills and nine orders for home treatment.In other words, they were given five "review questions" to solve, and they were advised to read nine books or parts of them. "1. Define the difference between realism and romanticism. 2. What are the advantages and limitations of the realistic creation method? 3. What are the advantages and limitations of the romanticism creation method?" ——The answer they went home Thought questions are such things, and the therapy has been so successful that an "augmented and revised edition" was published on the tenth anniversary of the original edition.In America, Mr. Hamilton is apparently regarded as a very good professor, and certainly, with a wealth of testimonials as to the miraculous efficacy of his panaceas.But let's think about it: Mr. Hamilton is not a professor; we are not credulous peasants; fiction is not a disease.

In England we have always been used to calling fiction an art.No one taught us to write novels; discussing problems is our most common motive; and, though the critics may have "deduced and prescribed the general maxims of the art of the novel," they have done them like a good maid. Their task is nothing more than cleaning up the room after the banquet.Comments are rarely or never applied to the various issues at hand.On the other hand, any good novelist, dead or alive, has something to say about these issues, though it is said in a very roundabout way, which may be interpreted differently by different people. Different stages of development also have different understandings.Therefore, if anything is necessary, it is to read the work with your own eyes.But, to be honest, Mr. Hamilton has sickened us with that didactic style.Nothing seems to be necessary except perhaps the basics of ABC, and it is pleasing to think that even this was dispensed with when Henry James began dictating his writings.Nevertheless, if you have a natural taste for writing, it is likely that after reading, for example, some reflection on the art of Jane Austen will come to your mind—an episode How delicately and beautifully it displaces another passage; how clearly she says what she wants to say without words; so how surprising it is when her expressive phrases spring forth.Outside of that story, between the lines, a certain small and dainty form emerges by itself.But learning from books is an elusive thing at best, and the dogmas of those books are so vague and varied that you don't classify your work as "romantic" or "realistic." ’, far from it, that you tend to think of those works as if they were living people: very complex, very unique, very different from each other.But, for Mr Hamilton, that will never work.According to him, every work of art can be disassembled, each part can be given a name and number, can be disassembled, decomposed again, and their sequence can be marked, just like we dissect an animal. Like the guts of a frog.Then we learn how to put them together—and, according to Hamilton, we learn how to write.Intricate plot, main key, detailed analysis; methods of inductive and deductive; dynamic and static delineation; direct and indirect narrative with equal subdivision; intension, commentary, personal balance, extension; logical continuity and year Sequence of months—these are all the internal organs of the limbs of the frog, and each part can be further dissected and analyzed.Take "emphasis" as an example.There are eleven types of emphasis.There's the coda, the intro, the pause, the direct ratio, the inverse ratio, the restatement, the surprise, the suspense -- are you tired of it?But please think about those Americans.They had written a story eleven times, each time with a different emphasis.Indeed, Mr. Hamilton has taught us a great deal about Americans.

Still, Mr. Hamilton often finds disconcertingly: you can dissect your frog, but you can't make it jump; unfortunately, there is something called life.Various instructions have been given to animate the novel, such as "training yourself rigorously never to tire" and cultivating a "living curiosity and keen sympathy".Mr. Hamilton, however, is evidently not fond of life; but who can blame him for having a museum as well-ordered as his?He had found life quite annoying, and, if one thought about it, rather unnecessary; for, after all, there were books.Mr. Hamilton's views on life are so illuminating that they must be expressed in his own words:

"Perhaps in the real world we should never have to bother ourselves to converse with uncultured provincial bumpkins; yet we do not feel wasted time and effort when we meet them in the pages of the novel Middlemarch. Personally, I have avoided, in real life, the acquaintance of characters of the sort in Thackeray's Vanity Fair; however, I have found it not only interesting but also beneficial." "Uncultured provincial bumpkin" - "not only interesting but useful" - "waste of time and energy" - after a long time of wandering and groping, we are now finally on the right track.For, the Americans wrote eleven theses on eleven emphatic devices, and it seemed that for a long time nothing could repay them.But now we are dimly aware that there is indeed something to be gained from daily whipping that weary head.It is not a title; it has nothing to do with pleasure or literature; but it seems that Mr. Hamilton and his industrious company have seen far away on the horizon an aura of higher revelation, if only they continue Keep reading long enough and they will get there.Every dismembered novel is a milestone.A work written in a foreign language cannot be dissected twice.And a treatise like this would be sent to the Supreme Censor, who, as far as we know, may be the ghost of Matthew Arnold.Will Mr Hamilton's masterpiece be recognized by him?Can they have the heart to reject such a passionate, dusty, noble and respectable figure who is out of breath?Ouch!Take a look at his quotes, and read what he says about those literary issues:

"The buzzing of innumerable bees." . . . The word "innumerable" in the intellectual world simply means "innumerable," and here it is used to suggest the various sensations of the buzzing of bees. Those gullible peasants could tell him much more than that.No need to quote his harangues about "Magic Window" and "Forgotten Evil."On the 208 pages of that masterpiece, isn't there a definition of style? No, Mr. Hamilton's masterpiece will never be recognized; he and his disciples must trek forever in that desert, and the halo of enlightenment will, I am afraid, grow fainter on their horizon.After writing the above sentence, I am amazed that, when it comes to literary matters, anyone can be so shameless as to be a complete fake connoisseur.