Other formats

    Adobe Portable Document Format file (facsimile images)   TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

Salient. An Organ of Student Opinion at Victoria College, Wellington N.Z. Vol. 11, No. 1. February 27, 1948

Sleeping Dogs Lie

Sleeping Dogs Lie

The [unclear: luerarj] page was light. Far more skill went into the presentation of opinions and news, and that has always been the way in Salient, with [unclear: eweotxw*. noiaVh] in, 1946 and 1947 The fact as we have had very few writers at the [unclear: CSUcjpe]. and it is not for lack of [unclear: evNvrting]. Editor after other has called for [unclear: Griftnal] work. They have hoped for a "stratum of experimental work which should be capable of making some-thing like an impact." They have offered precious pages to the cause, believing that "in such an ulcerous epoch as our own, when writing has come to be synonymous with commercial Journalism . . . there is more than Just a casual need for protective measures." The paper did its best; it wooed and wooed but the mistress was deaf.

This sorry state was obvious to many—sometimes they vainly objected and sometimes they in turn became literary editors. The following letter is typical of the career of the literary columns:

. . . And Awake

"For some time past, we the undersigned, have been vaguely troubled concerning the precariousness of the so-called literary columns. This important section of Salient seems to be compressed, and even annihilated, without any notice or reason. Is this owing to insufficiency of material, to the paucity of such material's literary value, or is it perhaps the opinion of those in control, that literature is subsidiary to food and other interesting topics?

Sgd. G. W. Higgin.

D. M. Saker

N. R. Taylor.

In Reply—Up till the time of receiving this letter. Mr. Higgin has sent in no contribution to the Literary Page. Needless to say all of this has not been published. Mr. Taylor has sent in one—all of this has. Mr. Saker. up till the time of receiving the letter, has sent in six contributions. With this issue three have been published. Food is considered, in its place, to be demostrably more important than imagination, which all three gentlemen will quickly find if they stop eating.—Ed."

The war did not help. It took away writers and inspired none at home—it was less effective than the threat of war. In 1942 Literary Editor Hubert Witheford rightly opposed "the belief" that literature is a rather more elegant alternative to horse-racang that should be tactfully aban-doned for the duration of the war." and proved this with a literary page of merit, but alas, short life. He saw, too, that "those same circumstances that make it so difficult to secure the tranquillity necessary for the production of anything of artistic value provide at the same time a body of experience which, if it can be assimilated, may be of incalculable value to the writer . . . we can make an endeavour to be honest with ourselves and achieve some sort of unity between what we have done and thought and read in the past, and what is happening to us now." That was the possibility but no one claimed the prize. Indeed all "original" writing practically disappeared until in May, 1945. the staff carefully prepared synthetic baits:

Poor fool who stood alone
Sally is gone that was so kindly
Perfect little body, without fault or stain
She grew within the heart as a flushed rose . . .

and were pleasantly surprised to have it criticised as "worthless, meaningless botch." "positively fantastic garbage." etc. But in this same year. "Searos" appears and links up a very dull patch with the renaissance of 1946 and 1947. Those two years are the brightest in Salient's literary history. Not brilliant, but bright. Searos. L.A.P.. W.H.O. and P.S.W. have all written and gone on writing verse which is not always tidy, not always free from obvious mistakes, but which is of interest and bears the sign of men at work. And in response we find, for the first time too, a Commentator. E. Schwimmer. writing an intelligent appreciation. (Vol. 10. No. 11) The Literary Society is blooming as never before, and there have been broadsheets of variable quality.

The reader may wonder why we constantly refer to verse only; but if there has been little notable verse, essays and prose fiction have been almost entirely absent. Indeed, this lack of versatility amongst our writes has been most striking and curious. The limitations of space may be in part responsible, but one suspects other reasons." It is as though these forms of expression have been overlooked, and it may be that, he who will be sentimental sees an invitation in the verse form when plain prose turns the shoulder. Whatever the reason, we hope someone will attempt to revive a lost art—a wholesome discipline—to discover the pleasure and power of thoughtful prose, and the humanity fiction can illumine.