Sadly it's not meant as an insult and yet it seems Wells was not able to afford his more passionate sentences a little touch-up. That a feud occurred around writing like this is unfortunate but it's also notable that Joyce was extremely graceful in his correspondence. He demonstrates an open-mindedness that Wells could have used to his own advantage. But Wells seemed strongly captured by his own perceptions and chose to give the finger to what could be called a growth mindset.
Plus it's terrible to tell a friend that you may both be wrong, when they may still have something to say--unless you are ready to be accused of backing out of the entire friendship arrangement. Relationships are all about reconciliation. They're not about subjective meta-narratives which attempt to evenly dole out critique, but from one side. It makes the doling side appear delicate and fearful of their own weaknesses.
Better to listen to friends, ask questions, and present your concerns as if they are third parties to yourself. Otherwise you will end up without friends when you need them most. Wells' own writing was likely gasoline on the fire, but I don't think he knew what he was getting into. Simply admitting possible fault as an entry point to subjective commentary like "BUT you're in the same fault zone with me" is a slap in the face.
You seem to be taking excessive British politeness as more of an insult when it's really an attempt at diffusing any hurt/confrontation from the underlying critiques. The intention of adding that statement is not really to reiterate he thinks Joyce is bad or wrong, the main point was admitting he may very well be wrong himself - as a saving-face escape hatch of sorts.
Adding "maybe we're both wrong" is similarly a way to avoid confrontation and politely avoid open disagreement - allowing them both to remain on the same plane of neutrality and maintain respectful discourse.
It's always difficult to explain these sorts of things without tonality and cultural familiarity (much like explaining sarcasm on the internet). For the British culturally there is an underlying assumption that you're trying to be respectful/non-confrontational even when you're technically critiquing someone's work (which is a sort of overwhelming politeness the British are famous for - being polite means never being brash or overly direct). Another example of this sort of indirection is a "backhanded compliment".
That's so interesting. Thank you for your explanation. I think I can only offer in reply that if Wells' English is excessive British politeness, I wonder if there is even an adjective which could begin to describe Joyce's Irish politeness. :-)
With all due respect to cultural differences, one of these levels of politeness seems to have comparatively and metaphorically wiped the floor with the other.
Thank you. This is a much clearer explanation than I was likely to give.
I'll add that there was some also implied humour in my comment, and perhaps also in Wells's remarks to Joyce. Humour is the great leveller, before which we all have to confront our failures and fallibilities, and laugh.
Plus it's terrible to tell a friend that you may both be wrong, when they may still have something to say--unless you are ready to be accused of backing out of the entire friendship arrangement. Relationships are all about reconciliation. They're not about subjective meta-narratives which attempt to evenly dole out critique, but from one side. It makes the doling side appear delicate and fearful of their own weaknesses.
Better to listen to friends, ask questions, and present your concerns as if they are third parties to yourself. Otherwise you will end up without friends when you need them most. Wells' own writing was likely gasoline on the fire, but I don't think he knew what he was getting into. Simply admitting possible fault as an entry point to subjective commentary like "BUT you're in the same fault zone with me" is a slap in the face.