intelligence as well as emotions.

Perhaps it is already clear that most popular novels combine many
elements of popularity, although usually one is dominant. Among
the stories, for instance, which I have mentioned most frequently,
"Main Street" depends upon a popular idea, but makes use also of
the revenge motive. It is not at all, as many hasty critics said,
an appeal to curiosity. We know our Main Streets well enough
already. And therefore in England, which also was not curious
about Main Streets, and where the popular idea that Sinclair Lewis
seized upon was not prevalent, the book has had only a moderate
success. "If Winter Comes" combines the revenge motive with
aspiration. Scott Fitzgerald's first novel made its strong appeal
to curiosity. We had heard of the wild younger generation and were
curious. His second book depends largely upon the craving for sex
experience, in which it resembles Mr. Hergesheimer's "Cytherea,"
but also plays heavily upon the motive of escape, and upon sheer
curiosity. "Miss Lulu Bett" was a story of revenge. Booth
Tarkington's "Alice Adams"--to bring in a new title--is a good
illustration of a story where for once a popular novelist slurred
over the popular elements in order to concentrate upon a study of
character. His book received tardy recognition but it disappointed
his less critical admirers. Mr. White's "Andivius Hedulio" depends
for its popularity upon curiosity and escape.

The popular story, then, the financially successful, the
immediately notorious story, should appeal to the instinctive
emotions and may be built upon popular prejudice. What is the
moral for the writer? Is he to lay out the possible fields of
emotion as a surveyor prepares for his blue print? By no means.