The Short Stories of Henry James, Collected by Clifton Fadiman

If Jane Austen's contributions to literature are, as she deprecatingly rendered them, "the little bit of ivory on which I work with so fine a brush," then Henry James' are scribbles made on napkins from a comfortable seat in his club. An unspecified ailment contracted in his youth hindered James from doing much more than that. A rich, untethered American who spent much of his life as a member of European society, James wrote prolifically on the dichotomy between old Europe's traditions and the new American ideals. His language is rich and often portentious, hinting at subterranean meanings. The words and ideas themselves are so substantial that they often form the bulk of his stories; in many, little overt action occurs at all.

Inaction in and of itself plays a major part in the stories collected here, especially within "The Great Good Place." A novelist, paralyzed by the minutiae of daily life, seeks out a refuge where he can live simply, and in doing so, simply live. James' picture of the "place" is bewitching, an earthbound utopia of cool gardens, tinkling bells, and gracious libraries. The novelist comes back to the real world in the end, though, for James fashions the place not as a final destination, but as a temporary vacation from pressing responsibilities.

James carries his theme of inaction further in "The Beast in the Jungle." A man is convinced something momentous is destined to spring upon him, like a beast, at some point in his life. He and a female friend spend years watching and waiting for it, until she, like a sort of feminine Cyrano de Bergerac, dies, and the man realizes she was what he had anticipated all his life. James insists it was the man's fate to live his entire life without doing anything of importance. Though an atheist, James relies unquestioningly, unironically, on fate to explain the motives and actions of many characters, à la Thomas Hardy. Why God is untenable but Fate ineffable is unclear.

James typically approaches things logically, though. He routinely draws characters not just as they are, but also as they see themselves and how they are perceived by others. Often the crux of a story involves a painful disillusionment, like when the son of a sculptor learns while abroad what true art is, and so discovers that his father's treasured oeuvre is far from it. James' stories often suggest a reflection of what strange delusions we all must live under.

James, like Austen, used his limited sphere of society to illuminate his understanding of universal truths. His meanings occasionally become obscured by his ornate prose, which, owing to merely perfunctory plots, sometimes usurps any meaning entirely, becoming an end in itself. The value in his work lies mainly in the more memorable of his observations and impressions, and in reflecting on what a life barely lived looks like from the all too lucid vantage point of its end.