of his entire output. The latest novel of his which
I read was "The Ambassadors," and upon that I took oath I would never try
another. I remember that I enjoyed "The Other House"; and that "In the
Cage," a short novel about a post-office girl, delighted me. A few short
stories have much pleased me. Beyond this, my memories of his work are
vague. My estimate of Henry James might have been summed up thus: On the
credit side:--He is a truly marvellous craftsman. By which I mean that he
constructs with exquisite, never-failing skill, and that he writes like an
angel. Even at his most mannered and his most exasperating, he conveys his
meaning with more precision and clarity than perhaps any other living
writer. He is never, never clumsy, nor dubious, even in the minutest
details. Also he is a fine critic, of impeccable taste. Also he savours
life with eagerness, sniffing the breeze of it like a hound.... But on the
debit side:--He is tremendously lacking in emotional power. Also his sense
of beauty is oversophisticated and wants originality. Also his attitude
towards the spectacle of life is at bottom conventional, timid, and
undecided. Also he seldom chooses themes of first-class importance, and
when he does choose such a theme he never fairly bites it and makes it
bleed.
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