Page:O. Henry Memorial Award Prize Stories for 1919.pdf/16

xii story’s the thing,” the judges sought originality, excellence in organization of plot incidents, skill in characterization, power in moving emotions—and, again, they differed over their findings. One member would have awarded the prize to “La Guiablesse” on its original motif—a ship is jealous of a woman—on its masterful employment of suggestion, unique presentation of events, and on all the other counts. Another, while recognizing the essential bigness of the tale, regards it as somewhat crudely constructed and as extending the use of suggestion into the mist of obscurity.

Or, take characterization. Mary Hastings Bradley’s “The Fairest Sex” represents, in the climax, a reporter’s fiancée betraying the whereabouts of a young woman who is, technically, a criminal. One of the Committee held that, under the circumstances, the psychology is false; others “believed” that particular girl did that particular thing.

Best narrative always compels belief: the longer the period of belief the greater the story. This business of convincing the reader requires more labour than the average writer seems to care about performing. Any reader is willing to be held—for a time. But how many stories compel recollection of plot and characters as indubitably a part of all that one has met?

Too frequently the writer neglects the value of atmosphere, forgetful of its weight in producing conviction. The tale predominantly of atmosphere (illustrated in the classic “Fall of the House of Usher”), revealing wherever found the ability of the author to hold a dominant mood in which as in a calcium light characters and acts are coloured, this tale occurs so rarely as to challenge admiration when it does occur. “For They Know not What They Do” lures the reader into its exotic air and holds him until he, too, is suffused, convinced.

The Committee were not insensible to style. But expert phrasing, glowing appreciation of words and exquisite sense of values, the texture of the story fabric—all dropped into the abyss of the unimportant after the material they incorporated had been judged. No man brings home beefsteak in silk or sells figs as thistles.