The Hot Seat An editor's life is terribly hard. The
Spectator 'recently sent out a questionnaire to discover readers' views of the paper, and one form came back from Europe this week, blank except for the following scribble on the back: 'Dear Sir, From a continental viewpoint the Spectator shows very strong. Communistic influences. Therefore I am not willing to give you any in- formation, nor shall I add my name. The answers to the questions you put can be very easily used against me. Yours sincerely.' On top of this, I have just received the fourteenth issue of a thing called Definition, `A Journal of events and Aesthetic Realism:, and an attached note says that editors are usually careless, weary, and half- dead, and adds that this issue is 'for editors to read aloud to each tither.' The four pages are occupied by an interview with Eli Siegel, the patron saint of Aesthetic Realism, whose matter is thin and whose style turgid; and a testament by one of his disciples, Rebecca Thompson van Griethuysen, containing the stirring passage: `I believe my marriage to Ted van Griethuysen will be a success only if we are both just to the philosophy of Aesthetic Realism and Eli Siegel.' There are also some startling aphorisms used as fillers, and I quote: TWO THINGS MONEY CAN'T BUY YOU: (1) understanding; (2) a decent family. Maybe I'm wrong. It might be a nice idea to hold weekly sessions in El Vino or Tom's Bar at which editors will be forced to read this guff aloud to each other, and even to one another if more than Iwo editors have the price of a drink. All it needs is a lead, gentlemen.
Previous page
