Realism = Reality? There is a superficial attitude concerning modern novels and realism that is prevalent today among those who have read or heard about the novels of Hemingway, Steinbeck, Caldwell, or Fisher. Many readers have objected to the profanity, they have objected to the type of people represented, and they have objected to many of. the minor incidents. They have said that realism is crude. They feel that they are aware of life and its complexities, and they do not see why they should have all of the sordidness of life flaunted before them in literature. They have condemned Tobacco Road for its obscenity. A certain group has asked repeatedly for the suppressed publication of Children of God because it has offended their religious beliefs. Bridge clubs have been very outspoken in their criticism of For Whom The Bell Tolls. They have classed it as immoral. Various regions of the country objected to Grapes of Wrath because they were personally offended by the language and the type of people depicted. But they were not, as they supposed, criticising realism when they socially ostracized these novels. Rather they were criticizing the minor detail, which made up only a relatively small part of the book. They were unable to read into the book what they wanted to be written. As a result their suggestions represented only an interpretation of what they thought realism ought to be. The Mormons read Children of God and immediately felt that there was no truth at all in the story. They criticized the author. "Vardis Fisher is an appos-tate," they said. They judged the story by their own religion, by what they knew of the author, (or rather, what they had heard of the author) and when it disagreed with their own views they called it filth. In addition, they went so far as to doubt everything that was written in a realistic manner. Therein lies the fallacy. The superficial reader thinks of realism as the reproduction of something just as it happened. Instead, it is the idea of things as they happened, coupled with the author's own interpretation of the facts at hand. No realistic writer ever attempts to pass things on to the reader exactly as they are. He colors it with carefully discriminating detail which adds to the general tone of his story. This is true of every art. No artist is interested in making a (Continued on page 17) Page Eight The Last Minstrel Oh, lean misshapen figure, Lift up your weary head; Rest your numb and stiffend fingers They cannot bring you bread. Pull your ragged mantle On your white, cold, bony limbs, And try no more to utter From your lips so parched and thin Those words that once were beautiful As once your wrinkled skin. You now are but a brother To the dull clay at your feet. But clutch that golden lyre Till you and death shall meet; For all men die while grasping Thing thing that made them real. So do not struggle, aged one, When mind and lips shall seal; For only as a memory now is your singing great, Only a faded glory is your power to create. by Mary Malinowski Page Nine