Rubbish and romance
Sir: I am rather startled by Mr Chancellor's brisk dismissal (4 June) of the late Miss Betty Trask's endowment, an annual award to the youngish author of 'a romantic novel or other novel of a traditional rather than experimental nature'. I have never read one of her books, or indeed heard of her till now; but, surely, whatever the quality of her own work, she did not actually stipulate that the winning book should be 'rubbish'? Presumably she would have set her face against Joyce, or Kafka, or the author whose name eludes me — of that novel printed on loose pages for its readers to reshuffle. One imagines she disliked obscenity; but are these restrictions so very onerous? I can see no reason under her terms why, had the prize existed earlier, it should not have been won by, say, Anthony Powell, Elizabeth Bowen, Graham Greene, V.S. Naipaul, or William Golding, all of whom have written perfectly straightforward narrative prose which could reasonably be called traditional.
In any case, if 'romance' has really become a synonym for rubbish, it must have been very lately re-defined. Treasure Island is a romantic novel. The Tale of Genji, a world classic and an exquisite one, is indubitably romantic. So is Le Morte Darthur, which has some of the most magnificent prose in English. Unless, of course, the bequest involves conditions which Mr Chancellor has not quoted, it seems to me a pretty generous gesture by a
writer who, I gather, was never much in line for awards herself, but simply preferred mainstream writing to fringe, and even, perhaps, hoped to improve the romantic novel. Given judges who can recognise originality of content without trendiness of form, I don't see why this award — which could make all the difference to a good writer needing to escape from a bread-and- butter job — need be a strain on anyone's integrity.
Mary Renault
3 Atholl Road, Camps Bay,
Cape 8001, South Africa
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