was first brought to my attention I
have been thinking of it as the most important pioneer work done in the
field of letters in my time. The loud guffaws of the general that must
inevitably follow the bringing forward of more of her work do not
irritate me but I would like it if writers, and particularly young
writers, would come to understand a little what she is trying to do and
what she is in my opinion doing.

My thought in the matter is something like this--that every artist
working with words as his medium, must at times be profoundly irritated
by what seems the limitations of his medium. What things does he not
wish to create with words! There is the mind of the reader before him
and he would like to create in that reader's mind a whole new world of
sensations, or rather one might better say he would like to call back
into life all of the dead and sleeping senses.

There is a thing one might call "the extension of the province of his
art" one wants to achieve. One works with words and one would like words
that have a taste on the lips, that have a perfume to the nostrils,
rattling words one can throw into a box and shake, making a sharp,
jingling sound, words that, when seen on the printed page, have a
distinct arresting effect upon the eye, words that when they jump out
from under the pen one may feel with the fingers as one might caress the
cheeks of his beloved.

And what I think is that these books of Gertrude Stein's do in a very
real sense recreate life in words.

We writers are, you see, all in such a hurry. There are such grand
things we must do. For one thing the Great American Novel must be
written and there is the American or English Stage that must be uplifted
by our very important contributions, to say nothing of the epic poems,
sonnets to my lady's eyes, and what not. We are all busy getting these
grand and important thoughts and emotions into the pages of printed
books.

And in the meantime the little words, that are the soldiers with which
we great generals must make our conquests, are neglected.

There is a city of English and American words and it has been a
neglected city. Strong broad shouldered words, that should be marching
across open fields under the blue sky, are clerking in little dusty dry
goods stores, young virgin words are being allowed to consort with
whores, learned words have been put to the ditch digger's trade. Only
yesterday I saw a word that once called a whole nation t