American Literary Centers (from Literature and Life) — A Closer Reading

The Centrifugal Thesis

Howells declares that American life is centrifugal, and literature shares this tendency. He contrasts this with the unified centres of older nations, noting that even Italy and Germany had multiple centres before unification. His evidence is not statistical but anecdotal: he recalls proving the point in earlier papers, yet an English correspondent still asks for a comparative view. This personal framing allows him to blend argument with memoir. He insists the tendency toward dispersal is growing, not shrinking, and that no single city now gives law or inspires love as Boston once did.

Boston's Lost Preeminence

Howells devotes considerable space to Boston's former glory, calling it a place where 'there was such regard for them and their calling' among the whole intelligent city. He contrasts this with New York, which he says never was such a centre and shows no signs of becoming one. He lists writers who stayed in smaller towns—Edward Bellamy in Chicopee, for instance—and argues they would not have gained by moving to New York. The passage is notable for its concrete naming of authors and places, grounding the abstract argument in specific careers.

A Gallery of Scattered Centres

Howells then conducts a rapid tour of lesser centres: Philadelphia (McMasters, Wister, Mitchell), Washington (Hay, Page, Dunbar, Stoddard), Chicago (Fuller), and even San Francisco (Burgess, the Lark). He treats each location as a node that gains or loses writers through personal moves. The tone is conversational, almost gossipy, as he notes who 'blotted out' a centre by relocating. This section demonstrates his method of using individual biographies to illustrate larger patterns of literary geography.

The Role of the Writer's Residence

Throughout the essay, Howells implies that a writer's location matters less for creative incentive than for social and professional tone. He observes that Boston's literary society had 'taste and feeling for literature' that other cities lacked. Yet he also shows that many writers thrived away from any centre. The essay's structure—moving from historical centres to a scattered present—mirrors its argument: literary production is not tied to a single place but to a network of individuals. Howells leaves open whether this centrifugal trend is a fault or a feature of American culture.

Howells never resolves the question of whether a literary centre is desirable. Instead, he leaves readers with a map of movements and counter-movements, where writers carry centres with them like portable hearths. The essay rewards attention to its specific names and places, which function as evidence for a larger claim about American cultural diffusion. Readers interested in literary sociology or the history of American publishing will find here a firsthand account from a writer who lived through the shifts he describes.

There’s something wistful about Howells tracing how writers scatter, each carrying a piece of home into their work. It makes me think of quiet evenings spent with old essays, where the author’s own voice feels like a familiar room. That same gentle intimacy lives in Memorials and Other Papers — Volume 2 — Inside the Classic, like finding a letter you’d forgotten was tucked away.