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The following criticism of the current issue of the Advocate, which appeared on the newsstands this week, was written especially for the Crimson by Francis Wayne MacVeagh '21, former editor of the Advocate.
As a whole the November number of the Harvard Advocate is sadly disappointing. Its contents are mediocre as regards style and not particularly noteworthy as to subject matter. Except for evoking reminiscences of better days not so long past, it can hardly entertain the reader.
With the exception of "Documentary Adventures in Old New York," there is no prose which can properly be termed interesting; certainly none worthy of being laid away in the cedar chest of memory.
"Gray Iron" Lacks Conviction
"Grey Iron" carries the reader along securely but gives small indication of the vitality and power attributed to him. The voice of the narrator early loses any ring of conviction, and long before the end seems the voice of one who of necessity relates what holds little interest for him.
"Everlasting Life" gives evidence of the author's ability to write clearly; but in itself it is not distinguished. The last paragraph will surely seem to some readers, not unreasonably, superfluous. "Love 1" is at best much ado about nothing. The first three paragraphs are tedious and muddy; the last two, insipid. It seems the work of a weary man who is expected to write something arresting, witty, facetious, and who would fain comply with the editors' demand. It certainly is neither witty, nor facetious, nor arresting. However pressed for material the editors may have been it was not kind to publish this effort of a perhaps too compliant victim.
Story Suggests Toothache
"Argent and Vert" is another failure. It suggests an attempt to amuse the assembled company despite toothache or gout. Its conclusion loses what force it may have had in the original in antidiluvian times, largely because the translator seems incapable of excluding any words seeking admittance and employment after the gates should close.
"We Harvard Men" is best passed over in comparative silence. It resembles all its older brothers.
Of the verse, "The Song of the Brook" is alone worthy of more than passing notice. At least it can be read more than once or twice.
"To a Sorrowing Maid" reminds us that A. E. Housman's "Shropshire Lad" is among the great poets.
"The Abbot Speaks" Not Poetry
"The Abbot Speaks" is an excellent example of the danger of treating inadequately a subject already handled superbly by a great writer. Whatever else it may be, it is not poetry. But to discuss in detail its obvious shortcomings would be unsuitable. One can only regret the momentary lapse in taste that led to its publication. The question of the propriety of its perpetration originally does not concern us; but if it did, most of us can recall worse deeds of our own undergraduate literary days.
The editorials are singularly innocuous and singularly plantigrade. The whole number has an air of intellectual fatigue. One is acutely aware of the recent hour examinations and the problems which confronts the editors of all college literary periodicals at such times.
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