ll things work
together, and every man influences all about him and is influenced
by them. Yet this separation and exclusion are required by the
conventions of the short story; and after all, there is always the
feeling, if the characters are well handled, that they have been
living and will continue to live, though we have chanced to come in
contact with them for only a short time.

It is this isolation, this magnifying of one character or incident,
that constitutes the chief difference between the novel and the short
story.[8] In the novel we have a reproduction of a certain period of
real life: all the characters are there, with their complex lives and
their varying emotions; there are varied scenes, each one the stage
of some particular incident or semi-climax which carries the action
on to the final chapter; and there are persons and scenes and
conversations which have no reason for being there, except that just
such trivial things are parts of life. With the short story it is
very different: that permits of but one scene and incident, one or
two real characters, with one predominant emotion: all else is a
detriment to the interest and success of the story. A book may be
called a novel even if it is composed of a series of incidents, each
complete in itself, which are bound together by a slender thread of
common characters; but a story cannot properly be called a short one
unless it has simplicity of plot, singleness of character and climax,
and freedom from extraneous matter. "In a short story the starting
point is an idea, a definite notion, an incident, a surprising
discovery; and this must have a definite significance, a bearing on
our view of life; also it must be applied to the development of one
life course, one character. The novel, on the other hand, starts with
a conception of character, a man, a woman, a human heart, which under
certain circumstances works out a definite result, makes a world....
Lastly it develops a group of characters, who together make a
complete community, instead of tracing the life course of one."[9]

To prove that these various requirements are recognized and observed by
masters of the art, I would ask you to consider the following list,
which _The Critic_ selected from nearly five hundred submitted in
competition for a prize which it offered for a list of the best twelve
American short stories:

"The Man Without a Country," Edward Everett Hale.

"The Luck of Roaring