They must have had the
momentum of a strictly artistic inspiration and gained further momentum
from the need of expression, from pride in the subtle use of words, from
an ardent interest in the city and its human types. Yes, they are
newspaper work; they are the writings of a reporter emancipated from the
assignment book and the copy-desk; a reporter gone to the heaven of
reporters, where they write what they jolly well please and get it printed
too! But the sketches are also literature of which I think Ben cannot be
altogether ashamed; else why does he print them in a book, and how could
Mr. Rosse be moved to make the striking designs with which the book is
embellished? Quite enough has been said. The author, the newspaper editor,
the proof-readers and revisers have done their utmost with "One Thousand
and One Afternoons." The prefacer confesses failure. It is the turn of the
reader. He may welcome the sketches in book form; he may turn scornfully
from them and leave them to moulder in the stock-room of Messrs.
Covici-McGee. To paraphrase an old comic opera lyric:
"You never can tell about a reader;
Perhaps that's why we think them all so nice.
You never find two alike at any one time
And you never find one alike twice.
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