Writing for a living

Monday, December 12th., St. Simon's Avenue, Putney, London.

Ella D'Arcy

Sunday night we called on Ella D'Arcy, and I made her promise to bring me the novel she had written some years ago, and then left in a drawer because one publisher, John Murray, had refused it. An interesting woman now in her fifties. Travels a lot. She had much to do with the Yellow Book and seems to have been de facto its editor. She remembered my short story which appeared there and hinted that it was she who secured its inclusion. She has written mainly short stories herself, several of which appeared in the Yellow Book. 

A young French novelist, de Vissac, was also present. It appeared that his first novel had won a prize from the Academie.

On Saturday appeared in the Nation the most striking article on me that has yet been written. Very gratifying to see oneself praised as an artist in a widely read periodical. However much one may disdain praise publicly an inner glow of self-satisfaction is inescapable.

Continuous progress with the construction of the first book of "Hilda Lessways". It is more of a challenge than I had initially thought. Having constructed and written "Clayhanger" I conjectured to myself that it would be a relatively simple matter to match them up, so to speak. I am enjoying doing it.

The little things

Monday, May 4th., Villa des Nefliers.

These are the things that give me the liveliest pleasure among the little things of weekly life: opening and glancing through the Athenaeum and the Nation on Monday mornings, especially the advertisements of new books; walking in the park and in the town in the morning when everything is fresh; eating my lunch; drinking tea; and reading after I am in bed. Formerly the last was a problem as I got sleepy too soon, but now that my afternoon nap is 'institutionalised' I read until quite late. There are few things to compare to settling down to an anticipated read when everywhere is quiet, no distractions. 

I finished my T.P. article at 9 a.m. this morning, and then strolled about the town and forest, finding and arranging ideas for the next chapter of "Old Wives' Tale". But I also found a most charming brocanteur, with lovely Empire gueridons for sale at a reasonable price.

Literary exchange

Saturday, November 25th., Villa des Nefliers.

I am engaged in an exchange by letter with Edward Garnett, reviewer for the Nation. His recent review of "The Old Wives' Tale" was as good as I could wish for but I took exception to his throwaway remark that in previous books I "frittered myself away in pleasing the fourth-rate tastes of Philistia". Insufferable elitism! So what if I write some books that have a more 'popular' audience in mind? No doubt they lack Garnett's sophisticated taste, but they are readers too and why should I not, as a professional author, address them? As long as I write as well as I can it seems to me not to matter much if not everything is great literature. He also seemed to imply that my only effective subject is The Five Towns.

I asked him if he had read "A Great Man" or "Buried Alive", both of which are set elsewhere and are by no means fourth rate. In fairness he replied to say that he may have overdone the 'Philistia' business. He had in mind "The Grand Babylon Hotel". Admittedly that is a lark, but it is a well written lark. He says he has reviewed "A Great Man" but has not read "Buried Alive". I also mentioned "Whom God Hath Joined" which I still consider to be under-rated .

I don't know why this sort of thing gets under my skin. The high-brows do cause me to see red. Might there be an element of provincial inferiority complex?