There is time for just
a word of quasi-criticism: "This book would have been better if it
had been shorter, and the plot is not always logical.
Nevertheless, 'The Yellow Moon' holds interest throughout." And
then, finis. This is botchery and sometimes butchery, not
reviewing.
The dullest reviewers I have known, however, have been the long-
winded ones. A book is talk about life, and therefore talk about a
book is one remove more from the reality of experience. Talk about
talk must be good talk, and it must be sparing of words. A concise
style is nearly always an interesting style: even though it repel
by crudity it will never be dull. But conciseness is not the
quality I most often detect in reviewing. It is luxurious to be
concise when one is writing at space rates; and it is always harder
to say a thing briefly than at length, just as it is easier
for a woman to hit a nail at the third stroke than at the first.
I once proposed a competition in a college class in English
composition. Each student was to clip a column newspaper article
of comment (not facts) and condense it to the limit of safety.
Then editorials gave up their gaseous matter in clouds, chatty
news stories boiled away to paragraphs, and articles shrank up to
their headlines.
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