Unquestionably a literary life is for the most part an unhappy life; because, if you have genius, you must suffer the penalty of genius; and if you have only talent, there are so many cares and worries incidental to the circumstances of men of letters, as to make life exceedingly miserable. Besides the pangs of composition, and the continuous disappointment which a true artist feels at his inability to reveal himself, there is the ever-recurring difficulty of gaining the public ear. Young writers are buoyed up by the hope and the belief that they have only to print to be acknowledged at once as a new light in literature. You can never convince a young author that the editors of magazines and the publishers of books are a practical body of men, who are by no means frantically anxious about placing the best literature before the public. Nay, that for the most part they are mere brokers, who conduct their business on the hardest lines of a Profit and Loss account. But supposing your book fairly launched, its perils are only beginning. You have to run the gauntlet of the critics.
To a young author, again, this seems to be as terrible an ordeal as passing down the files of Sioux or Comanche Indians, each one of whom is thirsting for your scalp. When you are a little older, you will find that criticism is not much more serious than the bye-play of clowns in a circus, when they beat around the ring the victim with bladders slung at the end of long poles. A time comes in the life of every author when he regards critics as comical rather than formidable, and goes his way unheeding. But there are sensitive souls that yield under the chastisement and, perhaps after suffering much silent torture, abandon the profession of the pen for ever. Keats, perhaps, is the saddest example of a fine spirit hounded to death by savage criticism; because, whatever his biographers may aver, that furious attack of Gifford and Terry undoubtedly expedited his death. But no doubt there are hundreds who suffer keenly hostile and unscrupulous criticism, and who have to bear that suffering in silence, because it is a cardinal principle in literature that the most unwise thing in the world for an author is to take public notice of criticism in the way of defending himself. Silence is the only safeguard, as it is the only dignified protest against insult and offence.
What is the ambition of a young author?
Answer & explanation
Correct answer: option 2
The correct answer is Option (2) → To achieve name and fame instantly
Young writers, the passage says, are "buoyed up by the hope" that they have only to print to be acknowledged "at once as a new light in literature". Their ambition is recognition, and they expect it at once, the moment their work appears in print.
Why the Other Options are Incorrect?
Option 1: To create big name in the literary world — Incorrect. Only partly true: it names the wish for a reputation but leaves out the point the passage stresses: the young author expects it immediately, "at once".
Option 3: To create a big dent in the knowledge world — Incorrect. Not mentioned: the passage is about recognition in literature; it says nothing about the world of knowledge.
Option 4: To dislodge other big names in the literary world — Incorrect. Not mentioned: to dislodge means to force someone out of his position. The passage never says that young writers wish to push established writers aside.