The Little Review, May, 1917 (Vol. 4, No. 1)

In Short

This periodical gathers the voices of writers like Ezra Pound, T. S. Eliot, and Wyndham Lewis, who sought to dissolve traditional narrative structures in favor of fragmented, psychological exploration. Through biting editorials, experimental fiction, and lyrical prose, the journal rejects the “gentleman-animal” conformity of contemporary society. Its enduring significance lies in its role as a primary gateway for Modernism, showcasing the intellectual rigor and aesthetic rebellion that defined a generation struggling to articulate a new, fractured reality amidst the collapse of old-world certainties.

The Story

The narrative arc of this issue begins with a sharp, polemical declaration of independence. Ezra Pound, assuming the role of Foreign Editor, immediately sets a combative tone. He expresses contempt for the “old fools and fogies” who dominate the American literary scene and announces his intention to transform the journal into a vessel for the true innovators—Joyce, Lewis, and Eliot. He argues that the artist must be free of the patron and the “hydra-headed” public, insisting that genius creates its own environment and owes nothing to a mob that prefers “paper currency” to the reality of “actual coinage.”

This philosophical foundation moves into the unsettling, observational world of T. S. Eliot’s Eeldrop and Appleplex. Here, two detached, skeptical men inhabit a disreputable neighborhood, not to participate in life, but to study the “human soul in its concrete individuality.” They watch the police station, seeking moments of raw, unclassified truth, lamenting that modern life insists on pigeonholing individuals into comfortable, safe categories. They reject the labels of the day—whether they be “individualist” or “intellectualist”—and instead retreat into their own private, cynical inquiries.

The exploration of the individual versus the system continues in Ezra Pound’s Jodindranath Mawhwor’s Occupation. This piece depicts an ancient, ritualized life that is both alien and strangely recognizable. Jodindranath, an adherent to the laws of the Shastras, manages his existence with a rigid, almost comic attention to grooming and social maneuvering. Yet, beneath the veneer of his perfumed, orderly life, he instructs his son in the cynical, pragmatic management of other human beings. It is a portrait of a man who has mastered the “rudder” of his own existence through a cold, calculated engagement with the world.

The tone shifts from the analytical to the ethereal in Morris Ward’s Prose Coronales. This section presents a series of lyrical, fragmented meditations on Beauty. It is a dialogue between a soul and its own longing, a “shattered cry” that wanders through the night. The speaker oscillates between the warmth of the sun and the “chill profundities” of an unreachable perfection. The journal then concludes with a series of practical, if slightly jarring, reminders of the mundane world: announcements for upcoming works by Yeats and Joyce, advertisements for a piano company, and a fervent promotion for a complete set of Mark Twain, illustrating the strange juxtaposition of high-art rebellion and the commercial realities of the day.

How It Unfolds

The declaration of intent Pound stakes his claim as Foreign Editor, asserting that the magazine will become the primary home for the most vital, inventive writing of the era. He dismisses the existing generation of American publishers as mediocrities and declares that the artist is entirely free from the demands of the public.

The observation of the soul Eeldrop and Appleplex establish their base in a disreputable street, choosing to live like spectators who detach themselves from the “systematized areas” of society. They engage in sharp, skeptical dialogues about the necessity of avoiding labels and capturing the “concrete individuality” of the people they observe.

The ritual of the individual Jodindranath Mawhwor is introduced as a man who lives a life governed by ancient, meticulous habits and cold, calculated pragmatism. He serves as a contrast to the Western “gentleman-animal,” demonstrating a life where the soul is managed through strict, almost mechanical, social and personal codes.

The meditation on Beauty Morris Ward pivots the journal toward the lyrical and the ephemeral, offering a series of prose poems that reach for a perfection that cannot be attained. These pieces serve as a bridge between the clinical observation of the earlier sections and the emotional, restless search for meaning.

The commercial reality The issue closes with a return to the physical world, featuring advertisements, book lists, and subscription appeals. This final beat highlights the friction between the avant-garde’s lofty, anti-commercial ideals and the very practical need to sell books and subscriptions to survive.

The People

Ezra Pound acts as the aggressive architect of this intellectual project, his voice defined by a relentless, aristocratic contempt for the uninspired. He wants to clear the field of “fogies” to make room for a new, sharper literature. T. S. Eliot, through his characters Eeldrop and Appleplex, embodies the detached, analytical observer; he seeks the “human soul” but finds it only in rare, fleeting moments of raw, unvarnished existence. They are both trying to escape the suffocation of the middle class, yet they remain trapped in a state of perpetual, observant isolation.

Jodindranath Mawhwor serves as a complex mirror to the modern subject; he is a man of ritual who has successfully subordinated his life to ancient, impersonal laws. Unlike the modern individual who is lost in a “bundle of mundane complications,” Jodindranath treats his own life—and the lives of those around him—with the clinical precision of a strategist. He ends the piece unchanged, still waiting for the next day’s ritual, representing a form of endurance that is as haunting as it is alien to the Western characters presented alongside him. Finally, the unnamed narrator of Prose Coronales is a seeker of Beauty, a figure who is fundamentally restless and forever “valiant and wayward,” unable to find rest in the “sullen duties” of a world that demands conformity.

In Its Own Voice

“The shell-fish grows its own shell, the genius creates its own milieu.”

Pound asserts the absolute autonomy of the artist against the intrusion of public opinion or patronage.

“The majority not only have no language to express anything save generalized man; they are for the most part unaware of themselves as anything but generalized men.”

Eliot’s characters lament the way society forces individuals into static, pre-defined categories that obscure the reality of their existence.

“It is that soul which is not man, nor woman, nor child, nor anything at all save one long shattered cry echoing down the galleries of stupendous night!”

Ward describes the nature of Beauty as an elusive, wandering force that can never be fully captured or contained.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is a struggle against the “generalized man.” It poses a fundamental question: how can the individual maintain a sense of reality in a world that insists on classifying human experience into neat, digestible compartments? The contributors argue that society is an enchantment—a “swill-pail” of polite habits and herd-like manners—that deadens the soul. The text insists on a “perpetual restlessness,” a refusal to settle into the comfort of a label or a conventional role. It is a rebellion against the “gentleman-animal,” a plea for a life that is lived with “actual coinage” rather than the counterfeit, paper currency of social expectation and bureaucratic, herd-driven existence.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the sharp, cynical wit of Modernist pioneers will find this volume deeply rewarding. It reads like a manifesto from the front lines of an aesthetic war; it is dense, intellectual, and intentionally provocative. The language is frequently challenging, marked by a telegraphic intensity and a disdain for the reader’s comfort. One must be prepared for the period-specific attitudes that permeate the text, which occasionally reflect the rigid, sometimes exclusionary, hierarchies of 1917.

What lingers is the sensation of a profound, high-stakes intellectual urgency. You are not meant to relax into this book; you are meant to be agitated by it. For those interested in how the literary landscape was forcibly reshaped by thinkers who refused to play by the rules of the “elder generation,” this is a foundational text. It is an honest, unvarnished look at a moment when art was considered a matter of survival, not just a pursuit of pleasure. While it requires a bit of effort to navigate its fragmented structure and the occasional shifts in tone, the reward is an intimate encounter with the raw, uncompromising minds that helped define the literature of the century to follow.