“You could compile, I should think, the worst book in the world entirely out of selecting passages from the best writers in the world.”
We often view literary giants as infallible figures. We imagine Shakespeare or Dickens sitting at their desks, producing nothing but gold. However, the reality of creative genius is far more chaotic. Even the greatest authors in history wrote terrible sentences. In fact, they wrote entire pages of nonsense.
This paradox is the subject of a famous literary observation. It suggests that a collection of the worst writing imaginable could come directly from the masters. This idea challenges our perfectionist tendencies. Furthermore, it humanizes the legends of the written word.
The Origin of the Observation
The quote originates from the mind of Gilbert K. Chesterton. He was a prolific British critic and author, famous for his sharp wit. Specifically, he penned this thought in the early 20th century.
Chesterton published an essay titled “Books of the Day: An Edition of Dumas” in The Daily News on January 2, 1907. Source . In this piece, he did not intend to insult great writers. Instead, he explored the nature of their output.
He focused his analysis on Alexandre Dumas, the author of The Three Musketeers. Chesterton compared Dumas to other titans like William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. He noticed a shared trait among them. When these authors wrote poorly, they did not hold back.
Chesterton argued that great men share a specific kind of failure. They do not merely stumble for a sentence or two. On the contrary, they commit to their errors. He noted that when they “began talking nonsense they went at it steadily.” Consequently, their bad writing was as robust as their good writing.
Tracing the Quote Through History
Quotations often evolve like a game of telephone. This specific line has undergone several changes over the last century. Editors and anthologists have polished it for brevity and impact.
Chesterton’s original 1907 version was conversational. He included the qualifying phrase “I should think.” Additionally, he used the present participle “selecting.” This gave the sentence a feeling of active process.
However, the text remained largely dormant for decades. Then, a resurgence occurred in the 1950s. A posthumous collection, A Handful of Authors, reprinted the essay in 1953. This book brought Chesterton’s literary criticism back into the spotlight.
Subsequently, other writers began to quote the passage. In 1954, Charles Poore wrote a column for The New York Times. He referenced the collection but changed one word. Poore swapped “selecting” for “selected.” This minor tweak shifted the focus from the action to the result.
Later, the quote became even more streamlined. Evan Esar included the line in his 1968 reference book, 20,000 Quips and Quotes. Esar removed the phrase “I should think” entirely. Thus, a tentative observation transformed into a definitive rule. This shortened version is the one most people cite today.
The Meaning Behind the Nonsense
Why do the best writers produce such terrible passages? The answer lies in risk. Great art requires a willingness to fail. Safe writers rarely produce garbage, but they rarely produce brilliance either.
Chesterton admired the audacity of authors like Dumas. He saw their “steady nonsense” as a byproduct of their immense energy. They wrote with such speed and passion that quality control sometimes vanished. Therefore, their failures were a necessary cost of their masterpieces.
Moreover, prolific output statistically guarantees some bad work. Dickens and Shakespeare wrote millions of words. It is statistically impossible for every sentence to be perfect. Consequently, their catalogs contain vast variances in quality.
We can take comfort in this reality. Perfection is not a prerequisite for greatness. Indeed, the ability to keep writing through the “nonsense” separates the professional from the amateur. The masters did not stop when they wrote a bad page. They simply kept going.
Conclusion
G.K. Chesterton’s insight remains a powerful lesson for modern creators. It reminds us that quality is not about constant perfection. Even the literary gods had feet of clay. They wrote bad scenes, clunky dialogue, and boring descriptions. Yet, we remember them for their peaks, not their valleys. Ultimately, if you could compile a terrible book from their works, it only proves how much they dared to write.