“[I]t is
more natural, perhaps, to look back on the old year, and most of us should be
able to do this with some satisfaction. Let us disregard private worries.
Everything may have gone wrong with us in heart, pocket and liver; we may, in
private life, be obsessed by psychological disorders or a taste for theological
controversy; our wives may be unfaithful or our husbands homicidal, our
children extravagant and our favourite hunter gone in the wind; all these
things may occupy us for six days out of seven, but in our capacity as readers
of Harper’s Bazaar we become
impersonal and are interested only in the decorative side of life—in what is
new and gay.”
Waugh shifts
between the personal and national. He had spent the first four months of
1933 in South America. On his return to England he detects “a vastly more
agreeable spirit.” He observes that “everyone seemed younger and more
frivolous; there had been a stimulating reshuffle of wives, friends and husbands.”
Waugh is not taking his job seriously, thank God, though he leaves out a few
things about 1933 that may, in retrospect, with benefit of hindsight, loom significantly
larger to us. Hitler came to power in January and construction of Dachau, the
first Nazi concentration camp, was completed in March. By June, Stalin’s Holodomor
famine-genocide in Ukraine was claiming 30,000 deaths from starvation each day.
The unemployment rate in the U.S. peaked at 25.2 percent. Evidence of sanity
appeared late in the year when Prohibition was repealed and a U.S. federal
judge ruled that Ulysses was not
obscene. Waugh writes:
“It is less
cheerful to look back on the past year in search of any interesting achievement
in painting or writing. . . . Except for Mr Anthony Powell, whose From a View to Death delighted me, I
cannot name any novelist who seems really worth watching.”
Waugh saw King Kong, which he describes as the “most
ambitious film, technically, of the year,” but dismisses as “contemptible as a
dramatic work.” Professionally, in his own life, Waugh was just warming up. By January
1934 he had published three novels and was about to publish another, A Handful of Dust. He had published two
excellent travel books, Labels: A
Mediterranean Journal and Remote
People, and later that year would bring out Ninety-two Days: The Account of a Tropical Journey through British
Guiana and Part of Brazil. He concludes his column with this:
“And so,
looking back, we can say that, for once, those perfunctory greetings which we
exchanged this time last year—‘Happy New Year’ to comparative strangers at a
party, ‘Happy New Year’ on the telephone next morning to sleepy and depressed
friends—have turned out to be genuine predictions. Let us repeat them again this
year with more confidence. Dear readers, a very Happy New Year to you.”
[The Complete Works of Evelyn Waugh in
forty-three volumes is being published by Oxford University Press. The column
quoted above, originally published in Harper’s
Bazaar (London) on Jan. 9, 1934, is collected in Vol. 26, Essays, Articles, and Reviews 1922-1934
(2018).]
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