easy to explain why. I suppose the real reason is that it discloses no
signs of any development whatever on the part of the author. Worse, it
discloses no signs of intellectual curiosity on the part of the author.
Mr. Jacobs seems to live apart from the movement of his age. Nothing,
except the particular type of humanity and environment in which he
specializes, seems to interest him. There is no hint of a general idea in
his work. By some of his fellow-artists he is immensely admired. I have
heard him called, seriously, the greatest humorist since Aristophanes. I
admire him myself, and I will not swear that he is not the greatest
humorist since Aristophanes. But I will swear that no genuine humorist
ever resembled Aristophanes less than Mr. Jacobs does. Aristophanes was
passionately interested in everything. He would leave nothing alone.
Whereas Mr. Jacobs will leave nearly everything alone. Kipling's general
ideas are excessively crude, but one does feel in reading him that his
curiosity is boundless, even though his taste in literature must
infallibly be bad. "Q" is not to be compared in creative power with either
of these two men, but one does feel in reading him that he is interested
in other manifestations of his own art, that he cares for literature.
Impossible to gather from Mr. Jacobs' work that he cares for anything
serious at all; impossible to differentiate his intellectual outlook from
that of an average reader of the _Strand Magazine_! I do not bring this as
a reproach against Mr. Jacobs, whose personality it would be difficult not
to esteem and to like. He cannot alter himself. I merely record the
phenomenon as worthy of notice.

* * * * *

Mr. Jacobs is not alone. Among our very successful novelists there are
many like him in what I will roundly term intellectual sluggishness,
though there is, perhaps, none with quite his talent. Have these men