Richard Hauer Costa

H.G. Wells (1866-1946) has long been one of my favorite authors, entirely due to his early “science fiction” classics. I read Richard Costa's analysis to determine how Wells' other writings compare, and to seek other novels of his to explore.

As part of Twayne's English Authors Series, this book explores the life and literary works of HG Wells. Its author, Richard Hauer Costa was a Professor of English at Texas A&M University, and has previously written short books on Somerset Maugham and on Edmund Wilson (both of which I have read). In his introduction, Costa notes that this is the second edition of this book. At the time of its first publication, Wells’ literary reputation had been discredited by Mark Schorer. (Schorer seems to have made a career of trying to diminish the stature of literary figures, having tried to trash the novelist Sinclair Lewis in a massive, book length hatchet-job). Costa acknowledges that his first edition did not fully succeed in rescuing Wells’ reputation, and wrote this revision to qualify Schorer’s influential verdict. In doing so, Costa draws on revised views of Wells’ writing and on his scientific thinking, and gives greater attention to his crusade for the rights of women.

Costa’s examination begins with a biographical summary, and then considers Wells’ writings in several categories. First he considers the science fiction novels for which Wells is so well-known – The Time Machine (published in 1895), The Island of Dr. Moreau (1896), War of the Worlds (1898) , The Invisible Man (1898), and First Men on the Moon (1901). For each, Costa considers plots and themes of the works. Next, the short stories are considered. Costa suggests that Wells’ knowledge of science gave him a standpoint for writing stories of a kind that Kipling, Poe, and Maupassant could not. In successive chapters, Costa considers such novels as Kipps and The History of Mr. Polly (which Costa labels “the comic novels”), his transitional works First and Last Things and Tono Bungay, and his (semi-) feminist novels The New Machiavelli, Ann Veronica, Marriage, and Passionate Friends. With regard to the last three of these , Costa asserts, “Wells did more than any novelist until [D.H.] Lawrence to bring women’s rights (and female rites) out of the closet. He showed female sexuality as a healthy expression of self, and he preached full freedom for women to confront their passionate natures, even as he partook of them.” With respect to the latter phrase, Costa refers to Well’s practice of sexual freedom in his personal life, a freedom relatively unconstrained by marriage. In ensuing chapters Costa explores Wells’ autobiography, his scientific writing, and the several novels Wells wrote towards the end of his career. The penultimate chapter considers published literary criticism of Wells’ work, and is followed by an Afterword that reflects on his legacy, plus a bibliography that includes secondary sources and works of literary criticism.

In his summary, Costa concludes: “He was a great writer who did not always write well. He made his reputation with – and will be longest remembered for – scientific fantasies which he never took seriously” (p. 148). Of his later fiction, Costa found much of it “unreadable”, noting that “The demise of nearly all of Wells’ fiction after The Undying Fire (1919) cannot be seriously debated.” By this adverse assessment, the last quarter century of Wells’ career yielded nothing of lasting value. In this respect (I infer), Wells arguably is similar to the American writer Sinclair Lewis.

As mentioned, one reason I was interested in Costa’s book was to see what else of Well’s writing might interest me. Frankly, with the possible exception of Wells’ An Experiment in Autobiography, I found nothing that caught my interest in the works that I haven’t already read. For that reason, I’m glad I read Costa’s contribution to the Twayne series.

According to an oft- repeated anecdote, HG Wells was speaking about his books with W. Somerset Maugham one day. “They’re as dead as mutton, you know,” he cheerfully told Maugham while stroking a volume of his complete works. “They all dealt with matters of topical interest and now that the matters aren’t topical any more they’re unreadable.” I would cheerfully disagree in one important respect. His early science fantasy novels live on – ironically so, since Wells himself held them in low regard, and explicitly sought to leave the genre behind for the sake of his comic and social novels. The fact remains that these works – (such as The Time Machine, The Island of Dr. Moreau, The Invisible Man ) have thrilled generations of readers; spawned science fiction as a genre; and inspired movies, radio plays (such as Orson Wells’ famous version of War of the Worlds), and many a novel and short story by admiring authors. These works surely will continue to be read as long as people read fiction.… (altro)

Edmund Wilson (1895-1972), the prominent literary critic and author, used to spend his summers in a family home in the little town of Talcottville (pop. 80) in upstate New York. Living 40 miles away in Utica (not exactly the “neighbor” that the title implies), author Richard Costa got to know him during the last nine years of Wilson’s life. Costa’s memoir recounts their relationship and offers modest insight into Wilson’s personality and viewpoints. Their relationship was not an intimate one and their interactions were infrequent (on two occasions, more than a year passed between their conversations). However, the two stayed in touch by mail, and maintained a sporadic friendship for nearly a decade.

Wilson comes across as an unusual and complex man. Physically, he was short, plump, and balding, with a high voice and an odd, wheezy laugh. Costa found him caring, sensitive, intelligent, and erudite; yet the man also appears to be opinionated, with a sharp tongue and an ability to put away prodigious quantities of alcohol. At the time of Costa's memoir, he was married to his fifth wife. He was well- read, but only up to a point; he considered no modern writers to be worthy of his attention. As Costa found, there were major gaps in his reading experience: he’d never read Cervantes, for example, and had no interest in Spanish literature. Wilson had had financial worries for many years, reflecting his work as a free-lance journalist and his ongoing problems with the Internal Revenue Service. (He had neglected to pay income taxes for over a decade). He liked performing magic tricks; and he was unable to drive a car (and had to depend on his housekeeper and neighbors in order to get around). Costa notes an odd coincidence: the inability to drive a car was shared by Edmund Wilson with such literary figures as Ray Bradbury, Evelyn Waugh, and Orson Welles. How curious!

Clearly Costa admired Wilson greatly, and basked in their friendship; in fact, the reader gets as much insight into Costa's personality and career as Wilson's. This book and Costa’s A Visit with Somerset Maugham, indicates that he was easily star-struck by literary figures, and thrilled by his occasional opportunities to meet them. In any case, I enjoyed reading of their conversations about HG Wells, Scott Fitzgerald, Somerset Maugham, Malcolm Lowry, and others in the literary world; and I appreciated Costa’s perspective on his enigmatic subject. Readers interested in Edmund Wilson may enjoy this modest work, although it is admittedly superficial and written by an admirer who did not know him intimately.

Coda. Despite Costa’s complimentary and affectionate portrayal, I get an impression of Edmund Wilson that is less than favorable. Wilson struck me as highly opinionated, a literary snob who pretended to know more than he claimed, and an intellectual dilettante who’d made a living critiquing the work of others, while dabbling in diverse subjects that caught his fancy. Perhaps that’s an unfair impression; it’s admittedly based on meager information. I have a biography of Wilson on my reading list, and will be glad to gain a broader view of the man.

Readers who admire the writings of Somerset Maugham will be interested in a few revelations. Wilson (who had published a devastating review of a Maugham novel in 1946) admitted to Costa that he’d never read any of Maugham’s major novels. This admission is significant, given his dismissal of Maugham’s work as “trashy,” as well as a conversation in this book (page 11) in which Wilson pretended to be familiar with Maugham’s Cakes and Ale. Wilson’s antipathy towards Maugham is visceral, and beyond reason. Costa noted that Maugham was still going strong at the age of ninety. “The old scoundrel,” blurted out Wilson, “that sort of writer goes on forever.” (Did he resent Maugham's great fame and the fortune he'd earned from his writing?) Another revelation comes from Wilson’s denial of a story told by Wilmon Menard in his The Two Worlds of W. Somerset Maugham. Menard had reported meeting Maugham at a cocktail party at Max Beerbohm’s villa in Rapallo (Italy). Maugham (Menard claimed) was sulking because Max told him that Wilson would be there too. When Costa asked Wilson about the story, Wilson denied having been in Rapallo anywhere near that time. Costa, having previously exposed Menard’s book as fraudulent, considered the Rapallo story to be another one of Menard’s fabrications.

Finally, as someone interested in the (Nobel- Prize winning) writer Sinclair Lewis, I enjoyed the following anecdote. It involves Mark Schorer, who wrote a large biography of Lewis that trivialized the writer and had a major, negative effect on Lewis' reputation that lasts to this day. As Wilson tells it, as he and his wife were dining at a restaurant, Schorer (who was on the Berkeley faculty) came over to their table, and kept hanging there, reluctant to leave. According to Wilson, “finally he came out with it. Had Wilson read his biography of Sinclair Lewis? ‘I told Schorer that as a matter of fact I had, and I thought it much too long.’ Schorer kept mumbling something about wondering why Sinclair Lewis thought he was somebody when he wasn’t. I suspect Schorer wondered that because he thinks he’s somebody and isn’t.” Wilson was telling the tale, of course, which gives one an accurate sense of where he ranked himself, and his certainty of his qualifications to do such ranking.… (altro)

I had occasion to be in the home in Talcottville about 20 years ago. Talcottville is 20 miles from our home. It is not occupied, but its caretaker who was doing some plastering work on our home showed us his work in the Talcottville home. There still, on the windows, are the diamond-stylus etched verse, etc. from the literary lights of Wilson's day. Fascinating.

This led to reading "Upstate" which I really enjoyed, not only because of Wilson's narrative skill, but because the places and names of the region are familiar. These years later I was fortunate to meet Dick Costa who now in his 90's is a neighbor of my father-in-law living in a senior independent living complex near Utica. Costa, who is a charming man, mentioned his book about Wilson which I was able to obtain through a used book site. The book presents an intimate view of Wilson by Costa who socialized and corresponded with him for the last ten years of Wilson's life. He presents a view of the man that is not seen in the scholarly major profiles published since his death. Costa was a journalist and English professor so his book combines a journalist's observations with literary "shop talk" with Wilson. (The book will have you accessing references frequently as it recounts their discussions of literary figures little known or forgotten today.) Costa is a scholar of H.G. Wells and W. Somerset Maughn and the reaction of Wilson to these authors is fascinating.

Anyone interested in Wilson, and a first-hand depiction of him, will like this book. It's not in print and don't bother with Amazon as they want a fortune for used copies. I went to Abe books who has a number of copies all at reasonable prices.… (altro)