Status Updates From Henry James: Complete Stori...

First real dud in the collection: Guest’s Confession. Not a love triangle but a love tetrahedron. The master getting tangled in the multitudinous stands of a plot going nowhere. All we hear is the gigantic thud of something heavy that fell. But this is Henry James we’re talking about; he’ll get right up again with a masterpiece or two, no doubt about it. He’s still heavyweight champion of 19th century prose.

Early James reminds me of early Monet. So prolific, such varieties of colour and shade, so many different perspectives, a perfection of tone. There can be no improvements in subsequent work, just refinement, endless refinement, and the pleasure of painting the same subject hundreds of times with slight variations of angle and hue, right until the end when colour, pure colour, becomes the only possible subject.

This could last forever. I wouldn’t mind.

This volume is a treasure trove of exquisite writing. I'm amazed at the range of the young Master's palette. All of Henry James is here, fully-realized, he just hadn't become famous yet. And there is not a hint of verbosity--oft-used adjective tarnishing his golden prose--every word is necessary and in its proper place. The thought that I've read only the tip of the iceberg of what he wrote fills my heart with joy!

Why is it I love Henry James so much? On paper his stories would bore me to death. But I find them fascinating and the writing is so good it gets under your teeth. You know that gummy place where only good writing can penetrate? I’ve only read a handful of writers who can get to that gummy place between my teeth. Henry James is one of them. That’s why I’m smiling.