Barrington quotes Louis MacNeice: ‘The eclectic is usually impotent; the alternative to eclecticism is clique-literature. The best poets of today belong to, and write for, cliques.’ (No source.) Also quotes Geoffrey Grigson, looking back at his own journal New Verse in 1950 and praising it for avoiding ‘that dotty inclusiveness, that mental masturbation, which has come to be the character of our “little magazines”; further, in 1980: ‘There is no excuse for such a magazine unless it promulgates the strong message of a new clique or group’. Reflecting on the place of political opinion, Eliot wrote [here quoted in two places]: ‘To be perpetually in change and development, to alter with the alterations of the living minds associated with it and iwth the phases of the contemporary world for which and in which it lives: on this condition only should a literary review be tolerated (Criterion, Jan. 1927).

Can a literary magazine ever be anything more than a vehicle for the promotion of a coterie? Should it even try to be? Some of the most influential literary figures of the 1930s thought not. “The eclectic is usually impotent; the alternative to eclecticism is clique-literature,” wrote Louis MacNeice in 1935. “The best poets of today belong to, and write for, cliques.” Geoffrey Grigson, looking back in 1950 at his own journal, New Verse, praised it for avoiding ”that dotty inclusiveness, that mental masturbation which has come to be the character of ‘little magazines’”. And in 1980: “There is no excuse for such a magazine unless it promulgates the strong message of a new clique or group.” MacNeice and Grigson flourished during a brief and fevered period. New Verse was launched in 1933 and ceased publishing in 1939, by which time its clique was no longer new, nor indeed any longer a clique. T. S. Eliot’s designs as a magazine editor were more ambitious, and required a more flexible, durable instrument. “To be perpetually in change and development, to alter with the alterations of the living minds associated with it and with the phase of the contemporary world for which and in which it lives: on this condition only should a literary review be tolerated” – so wrote Eliot in the January 1927 issue of his journal, The Criterion, which appeared continuously from 1922 to, 1939.

‘It is a trait of the present time that every “literary” review worth its salt has a political interest: indeed that only in the literary reviews which are not the conscientious organs of superannuated political creeds, are there any living political ideas.’ Barrington remarks: ‘There is still some truth in this, and though the cultural and political influence of little magazines is surely much diminished, there is less cause for nostaglia than we might imagine. Reading an old copy of The Bell or a Partisan Review anthology can be a strangely dispiriting experience. / Even so, the idea of perpetual decline retains its force in literary journalism, and an editor’s commitment to the new is almost always, in fact, a commitment to a vague but powerful notion of the old. Unlike most editors, Eliot understood this very well.’ [End.]

Barrington holds that Harding’s book shows, [‘]in a roundabout, ungraceful way, that none managed to hold a consistent political or artistic line; all of them contradicted themselves; all of them turned on their friends and embraced their former enemies.’