THE ANATOMY OF GRAMMAR

Amusing, even trenchant, are the remarks which Robert Littel (himself a critic of no mean ability) has to offer, in the New Republic, concerning the art of book reviewing. His article, whether taken seriously as a professional indictment or genially as a personal confession gives rise to a feeling that what he says is more or less true. Reviewers, Mr. Littel writes, are notably overworked persons; and consequently their styles the excepts a choice minority) have come to be strangely, and most grotesquely, similar. They seem to have certain words which they invariably use, and without which no book review is complete. He cites examples 'poignant', 'moving', 'intriguing', 'admirable words which have been dulled with constant use until they have now lost any definite meaning they originally possessed, and are employed for connotation rather than denotation. Not only are they trite--they are vague. The eye passes over them, recognizing them as old friends and yet remains unconscious that they are anything besides a general background or scenery which is inevitable to a well-rounded review.

Those words Mr. Littel denounces: perpetual repetition has entitled them to at least a temporary retreat, in fact has made their public appearance obnoxious--as obnoxious--as innocent words can be. Then there is another type, 'elusive charm', 'clashes of beauty', 'sharply silhouetted',--ad nauseam. But what, as Mr. Littel asks, is to be done? One must use words and phrases to "fill in" especially when one has little to say, And these old companions are "so often found at one's elbow when in a hurry or a tight place"; they are words which have niches and occasions rather than meanings". Mr. Littel is right; what would we do without them? They are not the private sins of book reviewers; they are common to persons of less fame. As long as man's literary style remains different from the language which he talks in every day life such old reliables will be necessary.