NEW FICTION

Press, Volume XCVII, Issue 28690, 13 September 1958, Page 3

NEW FICTION

Softly. Softly. By Marie Byrne. Anthony Blond. 156 pp. “If ever there was a crazy, mixed-up kid in the middle of the nineteenth century it was Salange Sand.” That is how the heroine of “Softly, Softly” is described on the dust cover of the book, and Miss Byrne confirms and even adds to the strange impression this remarkable sentence conveys. In effect what the author has done is to use the visit of Georges Sand and Chopin to Majorca in 1847 as an excuse for spinning a tale in the language and the spirit of a slipshod modern. Madame Sand is described by her daughter as .“a hound for publicity,” and Solange in a moment of despair murmurs “Why, oh why am-1 obsessed by sex?” It is not easy to see what Miss Byrne’s purpose was in writing this book. Those most likely to be interested in Solange will immediately be repelled by the author’s style and by her treatment of the facts; on the other hand, few to whom Miss Byrne’s idiom appeals will have any patience with people who are only artistic and mildly eccentric. The author should have arranged to have Chopin murdered by a space man.

Balthazar. By Lawrence Durrell. Faber and Faber. 250 pp. This new novel is the second of a group of four, of which “Justine,” published in 1957, was the first. In a prefatory note the author describes “Balthazar” as a sibling, not a sequel, and in the sense that each book can be read without reference to the other, this description is true enough. In the first novel Lawrence Durrell’s theme was the life of a cosmopolitan group living in Alexandria; in “Balthazar” the reader is reintroduced to the same people at the same period of their lives—but this time, whilst covering the same ground, the writer is more concerned with the motives and actions of individual characters. The tale is told throughout in the first person, the narrator being a seedy Irish school-teacher who lives in solitude on a balmy Mediterranean island far from the sweltering city at the mouth of the Nile. The central topic throughout is “an investigation of modern love,” and the distance of the narrator both in time and space from the central scene lends an illusion of detachment from the hot-blooded experiences of the main cosmopolitan characters. In style this novel is strongly reminiscent of Marcel Proust’s “Remembrance of Things Past,” remarkable for its expression of a certain metaphysical attitude, and also of James Joyce’s “Ulysses”—especially in the utter frankness of the language used, and a realism that spares the reader neither the sordid nor the obscene. The author’s method is to draw a series of pictures portraying the different characters and to describe the sequence of events in which each character is involved. In places Lawrence Durrell succeeds in writing cleverly, ironically, and revealIngly; and he certainly manages to transmit the authentic Egyptian atmosphere. Yet. “the book as a whole is unconvincing and uneven in quality. Many readers indeed will find its preoccupation with sex tedious unexciting and even revolting. Still this remains an unusual experiment in novel construction, and if the author has not succeeded in deciding the question “What is truth?” at least he has drawn colourful and unforgettable caricatures of many picturesque eccentrics. The Mountain is Young. By Han Suyln. Jonathan Cape. 578 pp. Katmandu, known to most people only as the source of reports about the conquest of Everest, is the setting for Miss Suyin’s latest novel. She visited the remote Himalayan kingdop for the coronation of the King of Nepal. two years ago and has fashioned her story around her experiences. As a novel, it is longer than it is deep, but the acute observation of Nepalese life and customs lifts it above mediocrity. The heroine, Anne Ford, finds Katmandu and its people, who care little for material prosperity, a revelation. In the bracing atmosphere among the high mountains and the strange customs of the Nepalese, she finds there is rather more to like than she thought. She is a frigid wife, but when she discards her insensitive husband for a young Indian engineer, her latent sensuality is strongly aroused and she becomes deeply aware of the significance of life and love. The story ends on an improbable note, but its principal weakness is an unnecessary bias against Western civilisation and modes while the customs of the East bask in the sunlight of her approval. There is good and bad in both cultures and the novel is weakened by this discrimination. But if the European characters are drawn from stock, the Nepalese, with their laughter, their music, sculpture and religion, come to life. The strange sexual symbolism in Nepalese religion is illustrated well, but there is a somewhat embarrassing realism about Anne’s sexual encounters.

Mrs Rawleigh and Mrs Paradock. By Neil Bell. Alvin Redman. 240 pp. After Frank Rawleigh, a successful businessman, had kissed his wife affectionately before departing on a business trip, the most searching inquiries failed to elicit any information as to his subsequent movements after leaving his car in- a garage for a small repair. Ann Rawleigh was young, beautiful and resourceful, but it is doubtful whether she would have picked up the broken threads of her life so quickly without the help of her cook-housekeeper Mrs Paradock, whose brisk commonsense and salty humour were to carry both of them through a series of money-losing and money-making ventures which included a moribund chicken farm and a highly successful osteopathic career. Crooks of various types imposed upon them ana relieved them of some of their savings by somewhat fantastic methods, but they managed always to surmount misfortune. Only when Mrs Paradock made her second excursion into matrimony did Ann decide to emoark on a world-wide search for her husband. During her Odyssey she met John Charlton, and the book moves to a dramatic and unexpected climax. Neil Bell tells the story with his accustomed skill, and the characters and situations in the swiftmoving tale are unfailingly entertaining. r. g

The’ Fax in the Island. By Henri Bosco.- “Oxford University Press. 184 pp.

This fantasy of two small French boys, and the uncanny forces which influenced their lives, suffers nothing in translation (skilfully > done by Gerard Hopkins), but nevertheless imposes somewhat on the reader’s credulity. Gypsies with malign designs on children, a sinister white fox, and the transmigration of souls form an eerie background to the more commonplace theme of the book in which a ragged lad of mysterious origin is received into the household of his friend* Pascalet, and befriended by ttye latter’s formidable great aunt, Martine. For a time the children lead a, normal boyish existence, and together they ' are instructed by the good Brother Theophist. It transpires that Gatzo had once been stolen by gypsies and cruelly maltreated by them before making his escape, so when they appear in the neighbourhood and settle upon an island close to Pascalet’s home he becomes restless and uneasy. Then a young girl is reported missing, the white fox howls in the night, and Gatzo determines to intervene in what- he believes to be an impending tragedy. The fox will steal the girl’s soul and must be killed. With great courage and intrepidity he accomplishes his object, and then disappears in search of the girl’s lost soul. The author has a Gallic dryness of phrase and a salted wit. These, however, only manifest themselves in the. more mundane content of the book, the remainder of which is shrouded in obscurity. Blake’s Reach. By Catherine

Gaskin. Collins. 317 pp. This spirited romance is set in the last decade of the eighteenth century, when smuggling was an accepted and profitable practice to dwellers on the south-east coast of England. Not many miles away the French Revolution is in full spate, and emigres arrive in exhausted groups on this friendly shore. Primarily, the book is devoted to the fortunes of Jane Howard, daughter of the tempestuous courtesan Anne, whose runaway match with feckless Tom Howard had led to her disinheritance by her stern parent, Spencer Blake. When Tom dies in a debtor’s prison Anne lodges her child with a humble country family, and is free to follow her wayward promiscuous path. But when the girl grows up she decides to join her mother and make a bid to recover the Blake inheritance, her grandfather being now dead. A complication to this ambition exists in the person of her cousin, Charles, who is languishing in a French prison, his mother having been a French aristocrat. Anne dies, and Jane, though virtually penniless, repairs to Romney Marsh, where the family property, Blake’s Reach, is now mouldering, and neglected. It is not long before she realises that the countryside is in league against the Excise authorities, and wherf she falls in love with Paul Fletcher, a penniless ex-naval officer/ she throws in her lot with him and joins the conspirators in their smuggling activities, always with the idea of restoring Blake’s Reach to its erstwhile glories. The escape of Charles Blake from France, and his prior claim to the inheritance threatens to thwart her hopes, but Charles makes it clear that he has no interest in the place, and the book moves to its predestined happy ending. The writer has a fluent pen, and there is plenty of rousing action to hold the interest of the admirers of this class of fiction.

A World of Strangers. By Nadine Gordimer. Gollancz. 254 p.p.

So much has been x written in sorrow, anger or bitterness about the colour problem in South Africa that this book comes like a pleasant breeze of sweet reasonableness in the hot climate of controversy. The two main characters, Toby Hood, representative of a British publishing firm, and Steven Sitole, an African with a degree, have a common bond in their determination to circumvent the frustrations imposed upon them by the laws of Apartheid; they become friends on a basis of cheerful equality. Steven lives unashamedly on his wits, being mixed up in many dubious business ventures. Toby is drawn into a circle of white people who enjoy all the advantages of a lavish hospitality dispensed by the immensely rich Alexanders. In their society the colour question is completely ignored, and when Toby becomes attached to hedonistic divorcee, Cecil Rowe, he finds it impossible to hold her attention when he casually mentions his African connexions. The link between his two worlds is Anna Louw, an Afrikaner, who is the only person of his acquaintance with a sense of mission. She has espoused the African cause, and devotes her energies to protecting Africans where possible from exploitation. Toby remains uncommitted to any positive line of conduct throughout the length of the book. His association with Africans brings him into occasional cqnflict with the law, without, however, evoking serious repercussions. The picture of a deeply divided society is drawn with immense skill, each character springing surely to life with a few deft strokes, and while the plight of the black race is in no way understressed, the reader is not exposed to the impact of any positive line of propaganda. Miss Gordimer has won unstinted praise from all shades of critical opinion, and this book, by its very calmness of outlook, as well as for its unusually high literary merits should add to her laurels.

The Mad Motleys of Swanworth. By Natala de la Fere. Michael Joseph.

The chronicles of an eccentric family and the bizarre happenings in the village of Swanworth have a humorous intention which may make its appeal to readers who enjoy freakish situations. Mr Motley with his addiction to the bottle and quotations fc from the song of Solomon iS perpetually bickering with his wife who claims to be a direct descendant of the Druids. Their son Bark has a tree-felling obsession; their elder daughter Spot is seldom seen without her gun and her dog, pursuing fur or feathers. The family scribe is the teen-age daughter Boadicea, who relates the odd happenings which take place in Swanworth. This is all perfectly clean fun but the book is unlikely to appeal to sophisticated readers.