The Artistic Characteristics in Works of O Henry

【摘 要】本文就歐#8226;亨利主要作品中體現(xiàn)出來的藝術(shù)特色做了歸納分析，以求對歐#8226;亨利寫作風(fēng)格有更深入的了解和認(rèn)識。

【關(guān)鍵詞】藝術(shù)特色 歐#8226;亨利

【中圖分類號】I106.4【文獻(xiàn)標(biāo)識碼】A【文章編號】1006-9682(2009)09-0037-03

【Abstract】This article tries to summarize key artistic characteristics reflected in O Henry’s major works such as The Last Leaf， The Gift of The Magi， The Roads We Take and so on.

【Key Words】Artistic Characteristics O Henry

Born in 1862， O. Henry spent his early years in Greensboro， North Carolina. He had the experience working for newspapers and banks. He served three years in prison in Columbus， Ohio and it was while in prison that he seriously began to pursue the craft and art of writing of short stories. It was within those walls he achieved his first and earliest national success with magazines， though he had far to go to gain the fame that would eventually be his. Getting out of prison in 1901， O. Henry travelled to New York， where he began his illustrious and prolific career as a writer of short stories.

Like a meteor his career flashed across the literary firmament. For the brief span of roughly a decade he wrote at a fevered， hectic pace. For instance， in one two year period he wrote more than 110 stories. Perhaps， like Schubert， he realised he had not long to live — that his work， if he were to accomplish much， had to be done quickly. And like Schubert， his work was interrupted by death. Surely he would have produced more of significance had he continued to live; nevertheless， it is doubtful that he would have produced anything of greater quality than that which he did manage to finish. At any rate the debate is academic. He burned himself out by 1910. Nothing of any real significance appeared after his death. He had published his stories as fast as he wrote them. Like a meteor he disappeared with the same suddenness as he had appeared. He was gone. But O. Henry left behind an enduring legacy.

1、THE ROMANTIC LEGACY

For the legacy O. Henry left behind is in the 200-some stories he wrote. Therein O. Henry portrayed a magical kingdom by the sea. He called it， among other things， Bagdad-on-the-Subway. Others， more prosaic， simply called it New York. It was an enchanted place where any thing could happen， where beggars could become princes and poor girls， princesses. A charm lay over this fairy kingdom; it was a spell cast by the master magician O. Henry.

Whether the New York O. Henry created was real or fabricated， whether it had any bearing on the actual city， is ultimately irrelevant， immaterial. Like most Romanticists， O. Henry was not nearly as concerned with re-creating the world as it was， as he was in creating the world as it should be. Put differently， O. Henry’s interest was in reality as he perceived it， not necessarily as it existed.

This is， of course， a common characteristic of Romanticism， and not meant to be a criticism at all. O. Henry realised that art， by its very nature， is an artifice; it is patently unreal. Furthermore， by the selectivity that is one of the hallmarks of art， art cannot possibly hope to re-create all of reality. To try to do so is futile. The most noble pursuit of art， then， is not to be a representation of what is real， but to be true to what is.

Certainly O. Henry would have never put it that way. He steadfastly refused to discuss the principles of art at all. He looked upon himself as a technician， not a theoretician， of art. And so he was. He had little time to ponder the principles of fiction. He was too busy writing stories. This reluctance to engage in intellectual discussions concerning the nature of fiction has led to some common misconceptions of O. Henry as an artist.

In some cases， the O. Henry myth itself looms larger than the one he created on paper， but it was just as surely his own creation. Like many a persona created by authors for themselves(Hemingway and Mailer are two obvious examples)， while the myths continue to persist， such facadesdo not hold up under critical scrutiny. The actual facts， of O. Henry’s life， regardless of what he said， do not substantiate the myth he created with which to cloak the real O. Henry.

2、FORM AND CONTENT

One point should be made regarding O. Henry’s seemingly lackadaisical attitude towards form， the occasional roughness. O. Henry was a Romanticist， and it was part of the Romantic aesthe tic that emphasized content over form. It was not at all uncommon. If what one had to say sprawled at times over strict boundaries of form， so what? The same criticism can be made of virtually every great Romantic artist. There are times when content plays a more important part in a story than form， and even though the critics might not appreciate it， the general public was little disturbed by O. Henry’s minor lapses. O. Henry’s attitude towards buying plots provides another striking rebuttal to the claim that he was a hack. In the early part of the century buying plots from unknowns， which more famous writers then fleshed out into stories， was a common practice. The very best of writers did it - Jack London， for one. But for O. Henry this would never work， and he grew downright indignant at the mere suggestion. “Don’t you know better”， he would say “than to offer me a plot?” It was O. Henry’s artistic integrity peeping through. His material came from within or it did not come at all. He could no more manufacture a story than a rock could.

The evidence， I think， is incontestable. Indeed， O. Henry was — as much as he disliked admitting it — a genuine artist.

3、APPEARANCE AND REALITY

I have dwelt upon this point for two reasons. First， I think the hack image has done much damage to O. Henry’s standing in the eyes of the critics. I think he needs to be drastically reappraised. But also， I find it intriguing to speculate about the roots of O. Henry’s compulsion to present to the world the image of the hack — an image that was patently 1. It is， I believe， more than idle speculation， for I suspect the reasons for O. Henry’s obsession strike at the very core of his psychology.

The answer to why O. Henry insisted upon the image of a hack for himself is a complex one. First， O. Henry was uncomfortable with intellectuals and in intellectual discussion， and by taking willingly the threadbare mantle of hack upon his shoulders， O. Henry could avoid being taken seriously， having to defend himself in an arena he was not accustomed to.

Another reason for O. Henry’s hiding behind the hack image was his deep sensitivity. O. Henry was mortified by what he regarded as his dark past: his years in prison.

Plagued by the shame of those years， he was obsessed with keeping them a secret. Only a very few of his closest associates knew of his prison record. That very pain he undoubtedly felt became one of his greatest assets as he projected it through his fiction. He often poked good natured fun at human follies， but there was no malice in his humor. An irony pervades his work， it is true; but it is a gentle irony born out of affection， out of love for the human race. His humor is that of love; it is not corrosive.

O. Henry’s hypersensitive nature used the appelation hack as a shield. In that way he managed to avoid the worst， the sharpest criticism dealt to artists.

By the way， it is interesting to note that it is more than merely coincidental that just as O. Henry kept his past hidden or secret， so too his stories often revolve around a secret of some kind， a bit of information kept secret to the end， a hidden identity. And is not the essence of the hidden past contained in the surprise ending?

4、THE SPIRIT OF AMERICA

Essentially， what O. Henry left us in his stories is the imprint of his magnificent spirit. O. Henry was an American Innocent， and as an innocent， he had a difficult time conceiving evil. Rarely is there ever an actively malevolent presence in any of O. Henry’s stories; rarely， too， is there ever a villain. The few he did create were not his most convincing characters. Generally(although there are some notable exceptions)， conflict revolves around the overcoming of circumstance.

His was essentially the inocence of a bygone age of America — so very difficult to comprehend today. Crime， devastating wars， a feeling of impotence grips our country， and a helpless rage permeates much of our modern art， expressing profound(though not necessarily fatal)ills. But O. Henry’s fiction is a reminder that it was not always like that. There was a time when we were optimistic， when we felt capable of grappling with life and its problems， when we were confident. Although O. Henry’s time is only 70 years ago， in a social and moral sense — and aesthetic sense for that matter — it seems like ages ago.

O. Henry and his fiction is a personification of that age of innocence， age of optimism. His stories are an expression of our strong faith in the American Dream before it became a nightmare.

The American Dream was the beckoning vision of many an immigrant， the hope of the poor in the early part of the century， and O. Henry， with it firmly rooted in his psychological make-up， used it as a basis for much of his fiction - indeed， of his very life. Was he not ample evidence that the maxim was true， that the American Dream was real and vital?

What was this American Dream? It was nebulous， true， but simply put: if one lived a virtuous， moral life， worked hard， and did not lose confidence in the future， one would receive one’s just reward. Somehow， regardless of how dark things looked sometimes， everything would work out for the best. Justice would prevail and injustice be thwarted. Fate or circumstance， which was O. Henry’s chief antagonist， might indeed seperate lovers， but if the lovers remained faithful(and that was the key)， then fate， through coincidence， would reunite them again.

Life was not so much evil as it was merely blind. So those looking to struggle their way out of grinding poverty， those filling this Bagdad-on-the-Subway， looked upon life， not as a travail of misery， but as a road of hope. The eternal American optimist thought that， in the end， if one persevered with integrity intact(and even the con men of O. Henry have their own brand of integrity)， if one were constant then one would emerge victorious eventually. Not that the life did not have its share of tears and sorrow， it certainly did. But that was not the esence of life. It was joy， happiness and success.

5、THE ROMANTIC ETHOS AND THE CITY

One of O. Henry’s most remarkable achievements was his successful blending of Romanticism and the modern， industrial， urban city. He showed that they are not incompatible. Although not exclusively， perhaps (elements of Victor Hugo’s works come to mind)， for the most part Romanticists tended to focus either on the past for their inspiration， as did Poe and Hawthorne， or on remote places， as did Harte and Melville. But O. Henry brought Romanticism squarely into the 20th century. The fabric of modern life — automobiles， industry， commercialism — form the fabric of his fiction. He thrust this seemingly fragile and delicate school of art into the hustle and bustle， the shoving and pushing of the big city， into the squalor of the tenements， the dingy apartments of shop girls， into the meanness of urban life; and low and behold， Romanticism not only survived but it prospered!

For besides the negative aspects， the city also represented much of what was positive about American life: the excitement and endless variety of urban living - which was in itself， indicative of a crucial element of O. Henry’s thinking. Central to O. Henry’s conception of life is the question， “What’s around the corner?” This is of course a child’s question. It was an American style of thinking at the turn of the century. It was O. Henry’s way of looking at life.

For O. Henry， perhaps our most childlike of writers， the future represented， as it did for millions of Americans， a challenge. It was unknown， and for precisely that reason it was magical， brimming with excitement， with the unexpected， with surprises around every corner. This was， remember， the country where supposedly anything could happen — where a beggar could become a millionaire over night， where a shop girl could fall in love and marry a wealthy young gentleman before one could say “I do”.

This was the Land of Opportunity， and Americans had great faith in that ideal. Social mobility was easily attained; wealth， fame could be achieved by anybody with the talent， ability， and perseverence. If New York was a favoured locale for O. Henry， it certainly could not lay exclusive claim to his glowing vision. Many of his stories focus on other areas as well — Texas and the West， Central America， the South， the Midwest. As O. Henry makes clear in his short story A Municipal Report， “it is a rash one who will lay his finger on the map and say: ‘In this town there can be no romance — what could happen here?’” And he proceeds to build a marvelous， Romantic story in Nashville. Corners are everywhere， O. Henry reminds us. Romance is everywhere — New Orleans， Central America， Wyoming， Texas， Nashville， as well as New York. For O. Henry realized that romance is not inherent anywhere. Rather， it is within ourselves. It is our spirit that is Romantic or not. It is how we view life， which determines Romance: not the life itself. The one peeping around the next corner — he is the true Romanticist.

In The Roads We Take， one of the characters speculates， “I’ve often wondered if I wouldn’t have turned out different if I’d took the other road.” to which his companion replies， “Oh， I reckon you’d have ended up about the same” cheerfully philosophical， as O. Henry puts it， “It ain’t the roads we take it’s what’s inside us that makes us turn out the way we do.” Perhaps that is not quite the way Shakespeare would put it， but the sentiment expressed is remarkably similar to Brutus’s observation that the fault is not in the stars but in ourselves. The surprise ending itself is， in fact， a manifestation of that “Guess what’s around the corner?” attitude. The sheer ingenuity of O. Henry’s imagination is astonishing， not only within each given story， but also the immense variety of his work. There is， about his fiction， a sense of gaiety and lightness， comparable to a Viennese waltz. In such a world nothing is truly evil， not when such benevolence exists.

Like champagne， O. Henry’s short stories should not be gulped， rather they should be sipped， sampled， and savored for their delightful， evanescent quality.

Will O. Henry live? The question is foregone now. He does. And he will continue to as long as there are lovers seperated by chance and reunited by circumstance， as long as there are fortunes to be won and lost， as long as the human heart can delight in its own follies， as long as humankind can laugh.

Nevertheless， much work remains to be done to restore O. Henry to a more fitting place in American literature. Much remains to be done before we truly understand this master. As C. Alphonso Smith， one of O. Henry’s earliest biographers points out in his book， the real biography of O. Henry remains to be written， the biography of his mind.

References

1 Langford， Gerald. Alias O. Henry: A Biography of William Sidney Porter. New York: Macmillan， 1957

2 Current-Garcia， Eugene. O. Henry: A Study of the Short Fiction. New York: Twayne， 1993

3 阮溫凌.走進(jìn)迷宮:歐#8226;亨利的藝術(shù)世界[M].北京:中國社會科學(xué)出版社，1997

4 張首映.西方二十世紀(jì)文論史.北京:北京大學(xué)出版社