In Defense of Good Writing: Miss Ethel M. Dell's Rare Interview on "All This Fuss About Proust."

Why do you feel that commercial fiction, or more specifically popular fiction written by women, tends to be critically overlooked?

Ethel M. Dell: One has only to really look at the facts. One doesn't feel one's efforts to be overlooked in all venues. I do think the Times tends to overlook popular fiction, whether one is man, woman, white, black, or Hottentot. Many of one's dearest readers tell one how very much they should like to see one reviewed more respectfully in the popular press, but what can one do? The prejudice against lady novelists is not however, I'm very glad to say, universal among the reviewers. The Monkton Combe Post for example, back when they had their book review section, used to say the kindest things about one's little books. Ah, but there's the rub! When in today's market one has only limited review space for books, one does wonder why the Times must review the same foreign sorts of books twice over, sometimes in the same week! That's rather hard. I want to make it clear that I have absolutely nothing against this Proust fellow. One does still hope to read his little books, as I understand they are just lovely. I should like to make perfectly clear that none of this fuss that one seems to have inadvertently kicked up in the more serious reviews was motivated as a critique against him or his work, just that he is someone the Times has chosen to review twice in seven days -- now really! One has to say something, doesn't one?

Have you had experiences where you've felt, due to either the content of your books or as a person of the gentle sex, your books have been misrepresented or dismissed?

Miss Dell: The only mention one's books have ever gotten in the Times, sad to say, may have been a single sentence here or there, if one's lucky, a dependent clause in an Edmund Gosse piece: "Ladies may be pleased to note a number of new books that have nothing in common but freshness of their publication and the familiarity of their authoresses." Now, one doesn't write the kind of fine, "literary" fuss gentlemen like Mr. Gosse seem to appreciate best - I write books that are entertaining, but are also, I hope, well-built and have lovely things to say about men and women and families and children and life in the British Empire today. Does one think one should be getting all of the attention that this Marcel "Genius" Proust gets? Indeed not! Perish the thought. Would one like to be taken at least as seriously as a Mr. William Somerset Maugham or a that filthy Mr. Lawrence? One does. But you know, that's perhaps the price one pays for being a lady. There's that unwritten law that these dirt-minded chaps get all the prizes and such rot, while we poor popular novelists get all the success! One can't really disdain the label of "commercial writer", because one wants to reach as many readers as one can. One reads a jolly lot of "commercial fiction," you know, and a lot of the same themes and wisdoms one find in a jolly fine romancer like my dear young friend, Hugh Walpole, for instance are the same themes and wisdoms as what one sees lauded in this snooty tosh.

Though the Times has devoted tremendous space to covering writers such as M. Proust and Mr. James Joyce, it has also done numerous positive pieces on thriller writer Agatha Christie and raved about Mrs. Woolf's work. Do you feel that the reviewing plane is evening out, or do you see these as anomalies?

Miss Dell: The examples you cite, dear, frankly reinforce one's argument that the ladies are still getting the sticky end of the wicket. If one writes thrillers or mysteries or ghosty things or quote-unquote speculative fiction, gentlemen might read one, and the Times might notice one. If one writes as I do of heartfelt love, and if one's address is in Bloomsbury, and if one's books becomes the topic of society talk, the papers might make dismissive and ignorant mention of one's little efforts. If one write romance,"Ca ne fait rien". One would be lucky if they spell one's name correctly. I think I remember seeing one review of Elinor Glyn once, -- a lovely woman, by the way, -- whereas that nasty American, Dreiser can count on all of his dirty books getting reviewed. This strikes one as fundamentally unfair. But again, this is only one little lady's opinion.

Though you have had your differences with the critical establishment, you have had tremendous commercial success as a top selling author. Does your success ever temper critical slights?

Miss Dell: No, actually every year one tell one's self that one is not going to read any reviews and then one does. One is only human and when one reads something unpleasant one's feelings are hurt. But then, one doesn't write for the reviewers. One simply writes and writes and writes and if one gives it one's all then that's really the best that one can do. This Mr. Lawrence, and Mr. Orwell, and Mr. Proust...all of these chaps write what one might call commercial literature, even books one might take on a rail-trip, books about the sexes and romance and families -- though some very unlike families, one must say. Would all of these chaps' books be considered appropriate reading for ladies and young girls if had they been written by lady novelists? They're not, of course, as no real lady would write such gutter fiction, so the gents get reviewed (not always positively, but still), and they sell. Not to people one knows in society, but still, one ought to give them their due.

Why do you feel that it is important that commercial fiction receive critical attention?

Miss Dell: Because historically the books that have persevered in our glorious British culture and in our memories and our hearts were not the literary fiction of the day, but the popular fiction of the day. Think about dear little Jane Austen. Think about Charles Dickens! Think about Shakespeare!! These were popular authors once!!! They were writing for the dear British people. Honestly, I think if the Saturday Review cares about its brainy darlings finding a wider audience, the smartest thing it can do is be a little more respectful toward the books one's dear readers are actually reading.

One might argue - I'm betting Mrs. Woolf would - that ladies who read romance or really smashing books about charming, healthy, athletic girls, or even one's own humble little efforts - aren't going to pick up the new literary darling, no matter how the London papers treat the books they like. But, as even Mrs. Woolf might be forced to acknowledge, we girls are the major consumers of all fiction, commercial and literary. I think a most respectful and informed attitude towards all sorts would help everyone - commercial writers, literary writers, gentlemen, ladies, and, most importantly, all the dear, dear readers. God bless them!