Once upon a time, after the Greeks, Romans and Persians said farewell to empires, French and Germanic literature flourished for a while until the advent of Shakespeare when English became the predominant language, the cleverest the clearest and the most adaptable. Despite the efforts of Rousseau, Voltaire and many others, English held sway. Many authors from many countries tried to break this stranglehold but were unable to change a thing. Even the emerging, educated and capable Americans produced little that was capable of challenging European writers never mind the British.
American nationalism propelled brutish but clever writers with a gift for pathos and comedy into the mainstream and many of us enjoyed the childish and half formed prose that many of them published. I find many of them quaint but entertaining. British writing still ruled the world no matter what those countries that were pretenders to the throne thought.
But those things are now in the past.
Many American writers can and do impress these days but the volume of writers produce mostly trite and uninspiring dross, Britain is no longer the epicentre of great literature and writing, Nor is greater Europe, France, Germany and Russia still produce great writers but they are few and seem to grow rare as the years pass.
Now the great writers seem to come from India, China and Scandinavia.
Of course, much of Scandinavia is still in Europe (partially and practically) and so we can lay claim to that which was ours by being part of Europe.
One day I hope that great Britain will reclaim that crown.
