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On what grounds does Poet T. S. Eliot rate less than four columns when Poet Stephen Vincent Benét rates nearly seven? It would be unkind, perhaps, to grudge Simeon Strunsky and Jan Struther nearly a column and a half apiece but would it not have been better to allow more room for Ernest Hemingway (one), E. M. Forster (4/5), Lytton Strachey (½) and a shade less to Editor Christopher Morley (four)? Similarly, 5¼ columns for Poet Edna St. Vincent Millay seem extravagant in a book that spares less than two to Leo Tolstoy, one column to V. I. Lenin and less than one to James Joyce, twelve lines to Scott Fitzgerald, 13 to André Gide, five to James Thurber, one to Sidney and Beatrice Webb, and nothing at all to Arnold Toynbee, Edmund Wilson and the "Big Three" of psychology (Freud, Jung, Adler), whose words have become only-too-painfully"familiar."
What Bartlett needs now is to have its splendid, grab-bag riches winnowed and put in order by a touch of scholarship.