LITERARY ALIASES.

Timaru Herald, Volume CXXXIV, Issue 18822, 10 March 1931, Page 7

LITERARY ALIASES.

WHY PEN-NAMES ARE CHOSEN. Queer reasons for literary aliases were suggested by the cabled confession of the novelist, Miss Marjorie Bowen, that she is also the “George Preedy,” who wrote “General Crack” and “Rocklitz” (writes F. Kingsley in the “Sydney Morning Herald”). Nor is hers the only piquant penname recently revealed. When Miss Rebecca West was married the other day, the fact, already known to bookish folk, that her baptismal name was Cecily Fairfield, was broadcast across the globe. Though the dual identity of “Marjorie Bowen” and “George Preedy”— the lady’s real name is Gabrielle Long —was a closer secret, some pundits a flair for such probings have lci* o suspected such “collusion.” Not only did they notice how both the Bowen and the Preedy books showed expert knowledge of a similar phase of German and Dutch history, but they culled circumstantial evidence from the likeness of literary style. Little tricks of punctuation appeared in both series of novels, and with such clues, some critics asked Miss Marjorie Bowen outright if she were “George Preddy.” Her evasive answers strengthened the critics’ belief that they had scented another famous alias. The question that naturally crops up in the readers mind w’hen learning of such nominal changes is, “Why do authors thus hide behind pen-names?” Miss Marjorie Bowen’s reply to that question may cover her own particular case. She simply declares that she was tired of “Marjorie Bowen,” and thought another name might cause her historical novels to be more seriously weighed. But there are several other famous pen-names that remain more or less mysterious as to the reason for their choice. It is easy to understand why the ex-convict Sydney Porter did not care to write his wonderful short stories under his original name. His best-known literary alias, “O. Henry,” was probably picked up haphazard by him from a scribbled signature on the back of a medical prescription he was “making up” at the moment. Simplified Forms. It is notable how many authors with fine" baptismal flourishes have simplified such names for their literary works. That Anthony Hope Hawkins should drop his surname is understandable, and that Dikran Kuyumjian should prefer to be known to his sophisticated readers as “Michael Arlen” is no less obvious. In Arlen’s case there was probably the additional idea of matching his pen-name to his mainly British clientele. For a similar reason did Joseph Conrad Komiezewski drop his consonant-clustered surname. Besides trying to match their pennames with the nationality of their readers, some novelists have obviously chosen names to suit their peculiar type of fiction A hot, passionate novel by a Mrs H. E. Pelham Browne would also be a contradiction in terms. But when the authoress so baptised writes as “Cynthia Stockley,” the reader gets the right “atmosphere,” even before opening the book. Doubtless Arthur Sarsfield Ward had a similar trick up his literary sleeve when he chose to be known to the deveurers of his murder “thrillers” as “Sax Rohmer.” A Mr Arthur Ward would surely be a respectable citizen who paid his income-tax regularly and lived in as much fear as any man of becoming bald. But the very name of “Sax Rohmer” breathes a devildaring air of sinister mysteries. Such a shrewd change in name recalls how the most famous movie “vamp” of early silent film days, Theodosia Goodman, had herself exotically billed as “Theda Bara.” When Rudyard Kipling .first burst into fame, some critics declared a name so melodiously majestic as his must surely be an assumed one. But the fact is that great writers who have adopted pen-naines. have usually chosen something simpler than their baptismal titles. On the stage o$ the screen the opposite rules. There, Nicholas Ullman is known as “Douglas Fairbanks,” and his wife, nee Gladys Smith, .shines as “Mary Pickford.” One interesting reason for a penname is seen in the case of a professional man such as Willard Huntington Wright, who thinks his fame as a novelist might clash with his other activities, and so signs himself “S. S. Van Dine” in his literary hours.