The Little Review, February 1915 (Vol. 1, No. 11)

In Short

This volume is a singular archival artifact of the early twentieth-century literary avant-garde. It functions as a monthly forum for the era's emerging voices, blending experimental poetry, fierce social commentary, and intellectual critique. By rejecting established academic standards in favor of raw, subjective expression, it serves as a historical manifesto for the "new generation." It has lasted not merely as a record of its time, but as a testament to the enduring necessity of "education in imagination" as a defense against the sterility of conventional societal norms.

The Story

The narrative arc of this issue is one of conscious, deliberate upheaval. It opens with an editorial retrospective that frames the magazine’s first year not as a polished success, but as a chaotic, exuberant rebellion against the "barrenness" of upper-middle-class life. The editor stakes out a position that prioritizes feeling over thinking, arguing that the true battle for the future lies in dismantling the new authority of logic and reclaiming the territory of the artist.

The middle section shifts from philosophy to performance. We are presented with "Heaven’s Jester," a piece that explores the divide between the spirit and the flesh, followed by the vivid, impressionistic "Green Symphony," which breaks language into fragmented, sensory bursts of nature. This movement toward abstraction culminates in a dramatic skit where a group of self-proclaimed "Futurists" put a woman on trial, charging her with being the incarnation of the past and a pollutant to modern art. The exchange is sharp and cynical, illustrating the tension between radical theory and the persistent, human reality they claim to despise.

The final arc moves toward synthesis and critique. The magazine examines the "liberties of the people" through the lens of a brutal police crackdown on the unemployed in Chicago, juxtaposing state-sanctioned violence against the philosophical musings of Voltaire. A deep, soulful translation of a Goethe poem provides a meditative anchor, suggesting that nature itself is the ultimate, inaccessible artist. The issue closes with critical reviews of contemporary literature and music, where contributors debate the merit of "difficult" art—whether it be the intricate, demanding symphonies of Dr. Karl Muck or the raw, psychological intensity of Dostoevsky. The reader is left with the sense that the magazine is not seeking to arrive at a destination, but to keep the friction of these conflicting ideas alive, ensuring that the "new" always remains in a state of becoming.

How It Unfolds

The manifesto is declared The editor posits that the highest human aim is not education, but the cultivation of imagination. She rejects the "crimes of philistinism" and calls for a renaissance that values the artist's subjective experience above the cold, rigid structures of contemporary society.

The sensory breakthrough The tone shifts into the visceral, as experimental poetry breaks down the barrier between the observer and the natural world. These verses emphasize rhythm and color, deliberately challenging the reader’s reliance on traditional narrative coherence.

The ideological confrontation The trial of the woman by the "Futurists" serves as a satirical climax, exposing the hollowness of extremist rhetoric. The participants argue in circular, nonsensical patterns, highlighting the absurdity of those who claim to have "repudiated humanity."

The social reality check The focus turns to the streets of Chicago, where the lofty ideals of freedom clash with the grim reality of police brutality. This serves as a reminder that the "new freedom" is not merely an aesthetic choice but a perilous political reality.

The final assessment The issue concludes with a series of critical essays that analyze the weight of human suffering and the future of art. The argument is made that true progress requires a "hard love"—a willingness to face disillusionment rather than retreat into comfortable, traditional lies.

The People

Margaret C. Anderson, the editor and publisher, serves as the magazine's driving force. She is candid about the "faulty" nature of her project, yet she possesses an unwavering belief that chaos is a prerequisite for creation. She is the bridge between the reader and the radical, consistently pushing for a more authentic, poetic existence.

The "Futurists" in the featured drama represent the aggressive, often hypocritical intellectual climate of the day. They are defined by their desire to destroy the past, yet they are trapped by their own rigid vocabulary and their inability to see beyond their own self-aggrandized labels. Their antagonist, the "Woman," stands as a symbol of the very thing they fear: a living, breathing reality that refuses to be categorized or dismissed by their abstract, binary logic.

The various essayists, including Alfred Knopf and George Soule, act as the magazine’s scouts. They are deeply skeptical of "Big Business" culture and the "fatuous" nature of popular trends, often aligning themselves with the "thinkers" who are willing to endure the discomfort of difficult, challenging art. They are perpetually frustrated by the "general reader" who prefers soothing sentimentality over the raw, often jagged, beauty of modern expression.

In Its Own Voice

The crimes of ignorance are not comparable to the crimes of philistinism: there is no philosophy that will ever reach beyond that of the personality or of the artist.

The editor defines the stakes of the cultural war, placing the artist's subjective reality above all other forms of intellectual achievement.

If by chance, for there is no hope in this message of the dawn, there is a resurrection day for thee, if by chance or God’s pure will, she turns to thee as God allows one spirit to turn to another spirit, when Love has prepared the altar, then clash thy cymbals, blow thy trumpet, shout till the sleepy world rejoices...

A passage from the prose-poem "Heaven’s Jester," capturing the intense, almost desperate longing for connection that permeates the issue's creative works.

What It's Really About

This book is fundamentally concerned with the tension between the "poetic life" and the "philistine world." It argues that society is caught in a trap of its own making, prioritizing material security and traditional, rigid perspectives over the unpredictable, dangerous, and transformative power of the imagination. The central question is how one remains an individual in a world that demands conformity, and whether the "hard love" of intellectual and emotional honesty can survive in an age of hypocrisy. It is a defense of the "new" and the "unsettling," asserting that if an idea or a work of art does not provoke a reaction, it is fundamentally dead.

Why Read It Today

Readers who are drawn to the history of ideas or the birth of modernism will find this a treasure. It offers the rare experience of reading a publication that is entirely unconcerned with legacy; it is written with a sense of urgent, present-tense necessity. It feels like eavesdropping on a late-night conversation in a smoke-filled room, where the participants are as likely to quote Voltaire as they are to launch into a diatribe against the local police.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the magazine’s lack of polish. It is unapologetically amateurish, sometimes veering into elitism or the kind of dense, polemical jargon that defined the era’s "little magazine" culture. The attitudes toward gender and class are very much of 1915—frequently provocative but also grounded in the era’s specific, often fraught, intellectual landscape. You read it not for the comfort of a resolved story, but for the thrill of the intellectual heat. What stays with you is the editor’s insistent, almost exhausting drive to defend the artist’s right to be misunderstood, and the reminder that the "new" is always greeted by the same cycle of fear and eventual, inevitable acceptance.