hundred books upon it, and their justification. You cannot teach
observation, or sympathy, or the background of knowledge which
makes possible the interpretation and selection of experience--not
at least in a lesson a week for nine months. Hence literary
advisers who must teach something and teach it quickly are drawn,
sometimes against their better judgment, to write books on
technique by which criticism profits little. Technical perfection
becomes their equivalent for excellence and for popularity. It is
not an equivalent. More than a mason is required for the making of
a statue.

I disclaim any attempt to teach how to be popular in this essay,
although deductions may be made. I am interested in popularity as
a problem for criticism. I am interested in appraising the
pleasure to be got from such popular novels as "The Age of
Innocence," "Miss Lulu Bett," "If Winter Comes," or "The Turmoil"
--and the not infrequent disappointments from others equally
popular. I am especially interested in the attempt to estimate
real excellence, an attempt which requires that the momentarily
popular shall be separated from the permanently good; which
requires that a distinction be made between what must have some
excellence because so many people like it, and what is good in a
book whether many people like it or not. Such discrimination may
not help the young novelist to make money, but it can refine
judgment and deepen appreciation.

As for the popularity and its meaning, there need be no quarrel
over that term. Let us rule out such accidents as when a weak book
becomes widely known because it is supposed to be indecent, or
because it is the first to embody popular propaganda, or because