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The World is a Wedding, by Delmore Schwartz
- Abstract
The literary graces are progressively renounced in this collection. The last line of what I take to be one of the stories earliest composed—the charming “In Dreams Begin Responsibilities”—has this vivid metaphor in it: “ . . . I woke up into the bleak winter morning of my 21st birthday, the windowsill shining with its lip of snow. . . . ” In the later stories, however, the writing has deliberately been made flat, and figures of speech are of this order: “After five years of the depression, the hopes of most of the boys of the circle had faded slowly like a color or were worn thin like a cloth.”
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