Among the Literati

The annual custom of disagreeing with the Pulitzer Prize awards is in full swing. Regardless of the choice of the committee, and incidentally the committee invariably disagrees, there is a vogue of shouting that does not subside until it is time to announce another set of awards. The choices this year were no better or worse than those of previous years. If they indicate anything they point to the fact that if you want to be honored by the Columbia School of Journalism you had better be a little more to the Right than to the Left.

In actual prize money, winning a prize means very little. There are other compensations-such as increase in prestige and more important, an increase in sales for the books chosen. “The Lamb in His Bosom,” a novel by Caroline Miller, never got beyond first edition. Although it was highly praised by critics, since Monday night Harpers have found it necessary to keep the presses going overtime to supply the sudden demand for the book. The biography, history and poetry books do not benefit to such a marked degree and the poetry choice usually reaps little to speak of. Almost everyone remembers that Stribling’s “The Store” was last year’s novel, but who remembers the poetry choice of 1933? You would never remember without research that it was won by Archibald MacLeish.

ADVANCE INFORMATION

Most of the quarreling this year was about certain newspapers publishing the awards before the official release date, rather than the judgment of the committee. The excuse Winchell gave, to the effect that so long as he wasn’t told the results personally he felt no responsibility to keep them secret, is nonsense. Mr. Winchell works on a daily newspaper and every daily newspaper of any importance received announcements ten days before May 8. G. W. J.