Mr. Gardner, in speaking of the death of the novel in the Spring issue of library review puts himself in a difficult position from the start. Nothing can die without first having lived; and for death to be noticeable, the life must have been an individual one, something distinctive from a squirming, unguided mass of cells. In that sense, when we are told that the English novel has died, we may well ask before bowing in grief, has it ever had a life of its own to lose?
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