THIS SIDE OF PANDEMONIUM

After the publication of "The Sun Also Rises" there came a deluge of supposed decadence. It was of the same variety as, although not identical with, similar deluges in the last decade: such as that caused by Mr. Fitzgerald in "This Side of Paradise"; and that of the mysterious Mr. Fabian in his happily titled "Flaming Youth." The difference between these and the Hemingway opus was one of starkness and futility; they were romantic--Hemingway was bitter. They wept copiously at their own naughtiness; Hemingway, dry-eyed and sardonic, merely described the catastrophe and agreed with Gertrude Stein that this was indeed "a lost generation."

Now, in Barpers, comes Richmond Barrett who shows, as it inevitably had to be shown, that the weltschmerz of Hemingway has been accepted as legitimate romance by "callow cynics who were old enough to shave the down off their chins but not old enough to vote." Mr. Barrett is perhaps one of the first to proclaim publicly the fact, for fact it is. Hemingway and his imitators--he is probably the most imitated author now living--have succeeded in glorifying the seamy side of life in such a manner that it appears far more enticing than any other aspect. The present Younger Generation is working much harder to maintain its reputation than that Younger Generation which immediately followed the war. The task then was simpler: it was a matter of romance and was spontaneous. Now there are standards of depravity which must be lived down if one is to claim membership among the lost generation. Hemingway, with satire as much in mind as anything, painted the scene not as it was but as the youthful sinners would like to believe it was. And now thousands of his admirers are striving manfully to be worthy to the fame with which he has bequeathed them.