Modernist Magazines and Digital Humanities

“The Blue Review” was a monthly magazine with a short run from May to July of 1913.  A follow-up to the quarterly “Rhythm”, “The Blue Review” provided an additional outlet for the publication of visual arts, literary works, and academic essays.  Though generally dense with semantic contributions, sparse works of visual art, as well as critical pieces, with thematic significance add to both the aesthetic and literary value of “The Blue Review”.  This unification of poetry, fiction, visual elements, and analytic works is such that when combined, the effect is harmonious.  Rather than detract from the individual quality of one piece, these works compounded make the overall exponentially better.

Although there aren't many poems in "The Blue Review", the majority of the poems that are included tend to have very similar concepts of love and nature. Most of the poems use nature as a way to express the authors ideas about being in love as well as the effects that aging and getting older has on a person's feelings of love. The poem "Loves Youth" by William H. Davies, written in 1913 (Vol 1. No.3, pg 151), is an example of the use of nature to portray the authors feelings about getting older and still being able to love. He says, "Not only is my love a flower/ that blooms in broad daylight/ But, like the evening Primrose, it/ Will bloom again at night". He uses nature as a metaphor to show that he acknowledges the fact that he is getting older, however, he isn't mournful about it because his love is still young and fresh. James Elroy Flecker uses this same technique in his poem, "Yasmin A Ghazel", written in 1913 (Vol 1. No. 2). His poem describes the romantic connection he has with nature. He talks about waking up in the morning and seeing the suns rays shine down on the lilies and the roses and being able to have the person you love laying next to you. I think these two poems exemplify the way the poets that are included in "The Blue Review" use nature to portray their ideas of love.

 It seems that the same themes of poetic reverence for nature, and all things natural, resonate in the artwork of “The Blue Review”.  And yet, it is though there is a subtlety to these pieces that keep them from feeling hackneyed; a quality that makes for relevance.  “Painting”, by Ambrose McEvoy  might very well be called “Portrait” if we were to only consider the foreground.  The white of the subject’s dress catches our attention, but it is the background that holds it as we consider her muddled reflection--- All at once the whole painting is transformed by her hidden sadness, and we look back through the mirror at a woman and painting made suddenly beautiful.  This notion of complex duality can be found in the use of shadows in G.S. Lightfoot’s “A Composition”. Again, a young woman serves as the subject.  But unlike “Painting”, this piece has a voyeuristic feel to it---  As though we are observing something we are not supposed to see.  If we consider the shadow in the background, this eerie sketch becomes all the more haunting as it appears this woman is in some sort of spotlight, in addition to being scrutinized by us, the audience who exists in reality.  Perhaps the questions these works raise are indicative of a growth and maturation; an understanding that nature encompasses more than what we can observe.

Understandably, the essays published by "The Blue Review" are markedly different than the artistic pieces within a given issue. The distinction between them is not simply one of theme, however, but one of scope as well. Whereas the poems, stories, and visual artistic pieces tend to focus on a single idea, such as man's relationship to nature, distilling it into an impression or image, the academic contributions offer broader, theoretical criticism of the arts. Though the contributions to this category are diverse, there is a discernible current of thought running throughout. Specifically, the question of nation and its connection to artistic output recurs frequently. Perhaps counterintuitively, given their publication by a single magazine, these articles do not hold a unified position on the argument of how much British artists should submit to influence from other country's artistic trends. Rather, there is a clear schism between, on the one hand, critics who believe that British art suffers when it borrows from foreign sources and, on the other, critics who insist that there is value in being open to such influence. "Georgian Music" by W. Denis Browne represents one essay that takes the former position. In it Browne expresses disdain for composers who are "content to borrow the latest thing... from abroad and fit it onto English ideas that have no relationship to it" (65). He is encouraged, though, by the emergence of a new style which he sees as both modern and thoroughly native. Conversely, in "Conventions: Chinese, English and French", the author Gilbert Cannan posits that British theater can be improved by foreign influence, though he does recognize that recent attempts have been, thus far, unsuccessful. Nevertheless he claims that, "we have, after all, something to learn from the Chinese" (45). It is then in the juxtaposition of these seemingly irreconcilable essays that some overall motive may be understood. By positioning these, and other likewise divergent essays, side by side the editors have both revealed an ongoing debate of the times and permitted the readers of "The Blue Review" to participate in that debate in absentia.

Once this particular incongruency is resolved, however, a larger question arises: how do the varied genres in "The Blue Review" inform each other and fit together to form a cohesive whole? Though there is no clear answer to this dilemma, "The Esperanto of Art" by W.L. George may offer some key to resolution. To George the compartmentalisation of the arts is problematic: "There is, there must be a link between the painter, the sculptor, the writer, the musician, the actor, [and] the poet" (28). Consequently, he proposes a unified criticism under which all of the arts can be analyzed. This essay, in a way, verbalizes what may be the goal for "The Blue Review" as well. That is, not perhaps the universal lexicon George suggests, but simply the democratization of art. In this "The Blue Review" succeeds by presenting its readers with a heterogeneous mixture of genres, and criticisms of genres, to illuminate that, in George's words, "art is...all of one stuff" (28).

Stanley Spencer's 1912 illustration, "Joachim Among the Sheepcotes" pays homage to the 14th century artist Giotto, and his painting "Joachim Taking Refuge Among the Shepherds".  While Spencer's original drawing was mostly pen and pencil with a subtle wash, its reprint in "The Blue Review" (vol. 2) gives the work a starkly contrasted, black and white quality, straying from the softer, sepia-like feel of Spencer's initial illustration. 

Giotto's painting, as the basis for Spencer's later work, provides a religious context to both pieces, as Joachim is said to be the father of the Virgin Mary.  This becomes pertinent if we are to understand the usage of any version of this piece by "The Blue Review".  Indeed, it seems noteworthy that Spencer's piece appears before any literary works in this volume of "The Blue Review", as the ensuing literary contribuitions have a similarly spiritual quality.

 Whether it be of reverance as we see in James Elroy Flecker’s “Yasmin” (“And some to Mecca turn to pray, and I toward thy bed, Yasmin”), or vague allusion to sanctity as seen by Norman Boothroyd’s “The End of the Lonely King” (“They shed no tear: they prayed no prayer”), it seems that the binding themes emerge as religiously entrenched.  As we read on, our questions of religious significance might arguably be answered by John Drinkwater's (the next contributing writer in this volume of “The Blue Review”) black and white affirmation: “Art is holy”.

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"The Blue Review" (Vol 1, No.3) is filled with all kinds of essays and poems which all showcase the different writing styles of the authors of that time. There is not much else in terms of art or advertisements. However, there is one advertisement that shows up in the very beginning of the magazine; http://dl.lib.brown.edu/jpegs/1169132435156250.jpg. This advertisement showcases two different novels. The first half of the page talks about a novel called "The Golden Journey to Samarakand" by James Elroy Flecker. It says that "his work is now eagerly looked for by all who really care for poetry". This to me sounds like the author is saying that whoever doesn't get this book must obviously not care about poetry.

The second half of the page advertises Compton Mackenzie's "Famous" novel, "Carnival", which is written in big bold letters. This is most likely the first word people see when they first look at the page. I would assume that this was done because, unlike the long and condescending description for the first novel, there is very little description for this one. So I guess in order to get people interested they had to use large letters to catch the readers attention.

It was interesting to me that this was the only advertisement in the whole magazine. Not only was it the only one but it comes right in the very beginning after the table of contents. That clearly shows its importance and kind of sets the stage for the many writings that are to come in the magazine.

"Study" was published in "Rhythm" Vol.1, No.1 on page 4, during summer 1911. It was drawn by Orthon Friesz and it depicts a man with his back towrads us who does not seem to have much clothes on. His face is turned towards us and he is holding some kind of bag or sack in his hands. It is a very simple drawing with no color and very little shading. The Magazine cover says that it is about Art, Music and Literature. The pages are filled with tons of essays and varying kinds of art. This particular drawing goes along with the general motif of the magazine. It's simple and forces you to really look at it and decide for yourself what you think it portrays. It forces you to focus on the contour's of the body, as does the majority of the other artwork in the magazine. It seems very different and revolutionary.

"A Composition" was published in The Blue Review Vol. 1, No.2 on page 41 in June 1913. It was drawn by G.S. Lightfoot and it is a portrait of a woman sitting on a bed with her hands holding her face. Her face is pointed towards the ceiling and her eyes are closed. She seems very distressed. There is a lot more detail to this picture as well as the other drawings in this magazine. Although we can clearly see what she is doing we still do not know what is going on, which forces you to give your own interpretations. Since the "The Blue Review" is the successor to "Rhythm", it has the same kind of structure. It is filled with different kinds of art, poems and essays. They mostly focus on the Futurism movement, which I think both of these drawings exemplify.

Shawna Love, Lisa Accardi, Roseanne Honan

Readership and Overview of The Blue Review

It has been difficult to gather evidence regarding the readership and social-economic-political positions of The Blue Review. What has been gleaned, however, has allowed for new methods of comparison and contrast, as well as the illumination of a different facet of the modernist period. In its short span, The Blue Review allowed for the publication of many poems, illustrations and short stories by well-known Georgian and modernist authors and artists. Although considered “interesting” due to its contributing writers, there seems to be an undercurrent of conservatism that may have led to The Blue Review’s short life span.

The Blue Review could be considered a more accessible avant-garde literary magazine. Katherine Mansfield, a New Zealand expatriate and author, and John Middleton Murry, a literary critic with working-class ties, created the magazine following the demise of Rhythm. Distinctions can be made after researching both The New Age and The Blue Review, as The New Age had clear inclinations towards a certain agenda, despite its open criticisms and discourses. The Blue Review has no manifesto or editorial summation of a particular political standpoint. 

The geographical base of The Blue Review was clearly situated in England, as the magazine was published in London. Murry and Mansfield did find inspiration from the French, perhaps in both style and presentation. Little was found in regards to the numbers of subscribers to the magazine during my research, but it seems that it must have proved disappointing for a reader who paid for a long-term subscription of a magazine which subsequently folded in a three-month span. There were obvious plans to extend the magazine’s publication, which is noted in another part of this essay.

What has been noted in the research of The Blue Review, and what can be speculated is that the readership of the magazine would be more inclined to read literary works devoid of pointed political opinion. The Blue Review was less an exchange of ideas, but rather a means to transmit the works of certain authors of the time. There seems to be quite an emphasis on poetry. One of the more notable which reflects a traditional or romantic nod with a dash of witticism was “To His Friend, To Try Another Tavern” by Oliver Gogarty (Volume 1, Issue 1). In addition to poetry, complete short stories abound in The Blue Review, with contributions by its co-editor, Katherine Mansfield, in each issue. Some works continue on for more than five pages, such as “The Soiled Rose” by D.H, Lawrence (Volume 1, Issue 1), a friend of both Mansfield and Murry.

Despite its apparent “conservative” or traditionalist slant, The Blue Review is still considered part of the Modernist Journal Project, and continues to be researched. This may be due to the interest in the personal lives of both Murry and Mansfield, who are researched as literary critic and author, respectively. This did seem to hinder the research, as any mention of The Blue Review in Murry’s and Mansfield’s biographies were short. There are available editions of the original Blue Review, which can be found in the British Library (call number P.P5938.g). Closer to home, the New York Public Library has the magazine in microform. Through a search of www.worldcat.org, text editions can be procured at the University of Central Oklahoma, Whitworth University in Spokane, Washington and Washington State University. The Modernist Magazine Project also continues its research of little magazines and modernist magazines, “both fugitive and more established magazines,” according to their website. Professor Peter Brooker at Sussex University will continue researching for an as-of-yet published three-volume collection entitled Critical and Cultural History of Modernist Magazines. During research, I stumbled upon a website associated with this collection (the first volume in the series is slated for publication in 2009):

Problems of survival, maintaining a position and readership. ... (1911-13), The Blue Review (1913) and Signature (1915) (Peter Brooker, Nottingham) ...
www.cts.dmu.ac.uk/modmags/critical/volone.php

This website would have proved invaluable for my research into the readership and position of The Blue Review, but it will have to wait until next year.

Its short span as a literary magazine may be equated with failure, but the editors of The Blue Review can be lauded for their efforts in publishing the works of writers and artists, both well-known and obscured in history. Small literary magazines such as The Blue Review allowed for the expression of ideas, which embodies the modernist spirit. 

Addendum

During research, we could not help but to draw parallels between The Blue Review and modern literary journals, such as New York’s Hudson Review and online publications like Glimmertrain. These types of literary publications showcase the works of artists and authors, just as The Blue Review seems to do for the editors’ friends and colleagues. To contrast, there are still several modern magazines that hearken back to The New Age’s open discourse. Zoetrope, movie director Francis Ford Coppola’s virtual, interactive website where writers, poets screenwriters and artists can post their work online and have it critiqued by fellow artists, may well become part of the relevant discourse of literary society. 

INTERESTING FACT: The editorial headquarters of The Blue Review was located at 57 Chancery Lane, London. The same address now houses The Labor Press, an anarchist magazine which publishes Liberty’s Library.

History of The Blue Review

In order to adequately discuss The Blue Review, we must explore its history, which actually pre-dates its existence. The Blue Review existed solely because of the demise of its predecessor, Rhythm, which was said to have no specific political implications. John Middleton Murry was inspired to start the avant-garde magazine, Rhythm, with his friend J.D. Fergusson by the Parisian art world. During this period, Paris was regarded as the most artistically avant-garde city of the time.

Murry met Katherine Mansfield (who would later become his wife) while they were both contributors to The New Age. Later in the publication of Rhythm, Mansfield joined Murry as co-editor. They began to edit under the pseudonym “The Two Tigers.” Murry’s lack of business knowledge led Rhythm into large financial debt with its printers. Murry and Mansfield were forced to move out of their country home and into a one room apartment, which would later serve as the office for both Rhythm and The Blue Review. Many of those in the literary circle in London admired the pair for struggling to make the magazine survive and offered to contribute pieces free of charge. Despite these kind actions, the financial difficulties were too great to bear and Rhythm folded in March of 1913.

Murry and Mansfield

In May of 1913, Murry and Mansfield created and edited Rhythm’s replacement, The Blue Review. Murry was so committed to making his publication work that he assumed the financial risk himself. The Blue Review was published in London by Martin Secker and lasted only three issues. The Blue Review was published in May, June and July of 1913 before it too folded due to financial difficulties. Finances were such an issue that shortly thereafter Murry was forced to file bankruptcy.

During the short run of The Blue Review, Murry and Mansfield contributed a number of pieces to the magazine, selling each eighty-five page issue for only one shilling. Although Murry grew up poor, he was classically educated. This, as well as his love of art and admiration for the French may have been reflected in pieces included in The Blue Review. Murry managed The Blue Review on a cooperative basis. This meant that writers were to contribute to The Blue Review for nine months without payment. After nine months, all of the profits were to be divided amongst the contributors after deducting production expenses. This idea was similar to those followed with much success in some French reviews, most markedly, Le Mercure de France. Since The Blue Review only lasted three months before it folded, it is safe to speculate that the contributors never got paid. 

The Style and Format of The Blue Review

In its three issues, The Blue Review sought to provide readers with a magazine that contained literature, drama, art and music.  The journal was written in a style similar to that of a book in that each page dedicated to writing did not include any advertisements or photos.  Unlike publications such as The New Age, or even John Middleton Murry’s previous publication, Rhythm, The Blue Review’s poetry and short stories were printed from beginning to end, without interruption or extraneous material on the page.  In fact, if a poem or short story ended at the top of a page, the remaining space on the page was left blank.  Within issue 2 there is a short story titled “Anger and Dismay.”  The story runs from pages 18-26 and ends at the very top of page 26.  More than three-quarters of page 26 is simply left as white space. Perhaps leaving blank space on a page gave readers the opportunity to immerse themselves in the literature without distraction. 

The pages of the journal were formatted into one column and numbered at the bottom in the center, which also gave it a book-like appearance.   It is also fascinating to note that The Blue Review’s pagination ran straight through all three issues.  Issue 1 begins on page 1 and ends on page 76.  Neither the art nor the advertisements are paginated.  Issue 2 picks up on page 77 and issue 3 begins on page 149.  This gives the journal a feeling of continuity, or perhaps it was a marketing ploy. Readers may have felt as if they missed out on something of importance in a previous issue if the current issue did not begin on page 1.  Thus, they may have sought out the earlier issue.

The first issue and last issue of The Blue Review had the contents or contributors listed on the cover and again two pages into the journal.  However, the second issue did not list this information on the cover.  One can infer that citing a journal’s contents on the cover would help to sell the publication and perhaps it was poor sales that prompted The Blue Review to revert to listing its contents on the cover of the last issue.

The publication was arranged so that after the contents, the first few pages were devoted to advertising, followed by one or two works of art.  Poetry followed the artwork, then short stories, reviews and further advertisements.  In the first two issues, artwork was sprinkled throughout the journal.  However, in issue 3, the last issue of the journal, only one page of artwork is printed and is located at the beginning of the issue.  This work is a drawing titled, “Post Georgian,” by X. Marcel Boulestin.  Unlike most of the realistic art published in The Blue Review, this piece is modern in that the facial features of the subject are distorted, out of proportion and misplaced.  Notably, X. Marcel Boulestin also contributed writing to The Blue Review and his piece titled “Recent French Novels” was published in the 2nd issue of the journal.  He later went on to become a famous French chef. 

Other art contributors to the journal also had works published in other literary magazines of the time.  Max Beerbohm, whose “A Study of Dubiety” was printed in the first issue of The Blue Review, had cartoons and other various artwork published in both The New Age and The Owl. 

Unfortunately, the art in The Blue Review “never manages to match the vigorous modern visual art that makes its predecessor (Rhythm) especially interesting,” according to The Modernist Journals Project.  This is certainly evidenced by the single work of art in the last issue.

Advertisements were listed in both the very front of The Blue Review and again on the last two pages.  Curiously, several advertisements are written in French – one for a French literary magazine, La Nouvelle Revue Francaise and another for a French periodical, La vie des Lettres.  Perhaps The Blue Review had a French readership, or subscribers were interested in the French culture. 

At least three advertisements were related to products for the home or beauty.  In the very first issue, the second page contains a full page ad, printed in blue, for a store that specializes in linens patterned with “designs by modern artists.”  In the second issue, there is an ad for The Parma Room, a place that customers can seek “scientific hair brushing” and “face treatment.”  Maud Barham specialized in “gowns of beautiful lines & subtlety of colour” and also printed an advertisement in the second issue of The Blue Review.  These ads seem to prove that the journal had a large female readership. 

One advertiser remained with the publication throughout its tenure.  The publishers of Carnival, “Compton Mackenzie’s famous novel” printed an ad in all three issues of The Blue Review, but strangely, the author was not a contributor to the journal.