NEW FICTION

Press, Volume XCIX, Issue 29324, 1 October 1960, Page 3

NEW FICTION

The Leopard. By Giuseppe di Lampedusa. Translated from the Italian by Archibald Colqukoun. Collins and Harvill Press. 255 pp.

Warned that he had only a short time to live, a Sicilian nobleman, the Prince of Lampedusa, wrote the novel that had been, in his mind for 25 years. It was at first considered unpublishable, then became a best-seller in Italy and. in an English translation, is a Book Society Choice. The novel is about an earlier Sicilian nobleman and begins in 1860 when the Garibaldini appear in Sicily, marking the point of decline of the old order with its mingled splendour and squalor. The Prince’s relations with the forces of change, represented especially by a vulgar but rich merchant whose daughter attracts the Prince's dashing but penniless nephew, underlie the personal themes of the story. Though not a long novel, “The Leopard” recalls the fuller solider novels of an earlier century. This is perhaps because of its settled and full social background, an assurance about values both in the writer and his characters. The feudal society described is, of course, dissolving and both the real and the fictional prince are aware of this dissolution, but the Prince in the novel lives most intensely when in his observatory, where the troubles of this earth fall into perspective against the stability of the stars. The author has perhaps a more sophisticated solace in his ironical humour and .yivid sense of history. The lively reconstruction of the Sicilian nobility of the mid-nineteenth- century depends on a sympathy with what was good in it, but as we follow the decline of the family in later years, there is no bitterness or useless regret, but a kind bf solemn delight in the pattern of the process of change in human affairs. A vivid sense of reality organised by such a sense of pattern, together with an ironical detachment perhaps fortified by the author’s own nearness to death, give this book a claim to be thought of as at least a minor classic of European literature.

The New Sonia Waywood. By Michael Innes. Gollancz. 192 pp.

In this new mystery story from (Michael Innes (who is a don at Oxford whose real name is J. I. M. Stewart) a man is concerned with concealing the fact that his wife is dead though in actual fact she died from natural causes. He has two main reasons. When she died, he had thoughtlessly dropped her over the side of the yacht in the middle of the English Channel and he fears that if this were discovered there might be those who suspected that her death was not natural. Secondly, he considers that he is as able as his wife to churn out the popular novels for which she was’ famous, and which were so profitable. An ironical twist at the end of the book is added. The author is guilty of marring basically humorous situations witji a far too ciiTtfvated style, and, indeed, of literary preciousness such as this sample: the hero of the story realises that a woman believes he has been trying to “pick her up"; the author describes the hero’s reaction in this way, “most naturally, the delicacy of Colonel Petticate was outraged by such an imputation.” The Crossing Point. By Gerda Charles. Eyre and Spottiswoode. 274 pp.

This second book by Gerda Charles amply fulfils the promise shown in her first, “The True Voice.” “The Crossing Point” is a work of stature giving an insight into the enclosed world of an orthodox Jewish community resident in a London suburb. Primarily it is the story of a middle-aged Rabbi’s desire for marriage and the raising of a family, to which his own fastidious taste in woftien, and his objective view of those who seek to ensnare his affections, js the main bar. A little too much space is devoted to Leo Norberg’s amatory problems, for it is the brilliant delineation of the nature and customs of Jewry that give the book its chief claim to distinction. The vain, pathetic, silly narrow-minded little Hebrew trader Boruch Gabriel, whose Old Testament concepts of filial duty create a small hell for his four daughters, is an inimitable study of a domestic tyrant; and the disputations of learned men on religious dogma contain some memorable passages. Two delightful short episodes—one, a. meeting of the International Judean Council, and the other a perfect little miniature of some very rich Jewish ladies organising a social function for charity give an indication of the author’s poyers as a satirist It is to be hoped she will exploit them more fully in her next book.

The Day of Sacrifice. By Fereidoun Esfandiary. Heinemann. 240 PP. This first -novel by a young Iranian is oddly compounded of comedy and tragedy. At first it would seem that KiaNoush Aryamanesh»is just a morally spineless playboy, resentful of his father’s strictures and an idle pursuer of women. A series of political murders in Teheran committed by bodies of fanatics with such grandiloquent names as "Slaves of the Faith" has seriously disturbed the older Aryamanesh

who is a loyal government servant, and with the object of averting another threatened assasination he instructs KiaNoush to seek out. certain people: who by the use of influence may be able to avert it.-It is a straight enough assignment and an urgent one, but KiaNoush permits himself day after day to be sidetracked by frivolous diversions.

including a love affair with a married woman. Only as the Day of Sacrifice approaches, when the attempt upon the Political Minister’s life is to be made, does a sense of the' urgency of his mission strike the young man with full force, and he makes strenuous last-minute efforts td carry out his father’s wishes. He is too late, and his heedless hedonism leads to his own undoing. The author who is the son of an Iranian diplomat has written this novel in English. As a picture of his countrymen it is not flattering, the muddled and vainglorious patriotism of the murderous factions being held up to grim and merciless ridicule. The Iranian use of repetition and meaningless flowery compliments are somewhat tedious, but the description of the killing of a lamb on the Day of Sacrifice is unforgettably poignant

The General In Retreat By Erie Forbes Boyd. Centaur Press. 250 pp.

Though set in England, this extravaganza has a Ruritanian flavour. When General Alexandre de Bonne is compelled to flee from his political enemies in in the South American Republic of Florestia he makes a temporary home with his English exgoverness. Hem (now an earnest amateur sleuth), in an East Anglican village dominated by Mrs Blitfoe-Pippit, a highly improbable descendant of feudal tyrants. The Fiorestian authorities are after

the General; the General and his disreputable associate, Luis Vargas, are both after Hem’s niece, Terry, with Mrs Blithe-Pippet’s son limping some way behindThe General, who combines some of the characteristics of Cyrano

de Bergerac with those of Don Quixote, is saved from liquidation as well as some awkward trouble with the British police by one of those agreeable volte faces so common in South American politics, and’ all ends happily. Return Fare. By Jean Kolar. Allen and Unwin. 222 pp. The tragedy of exile in a savage unhealthy environment is the subject of this novel, the hero of which is a one-time journalist of renown in Czechoslovakia.

Known simply as “Monsieur Karel” amomg his fellows in the French Cameroons, he has

suffered from both German and Russian persecution and is endeavouring to build a new life as a trader in cocoa. In a narrow social circle Karel pursues a stupified existence which

gradually enstranges him from his French wife, Jacqueline, and thus throws her into the arms of an idle and bored compatriot Though this is largely their personal story, the colour problem and the superstitions of the natives play a not inconsiderable part in it. The author expiates eloquently on the difficulties and frustrations of the educated African returning from Europe: “after his stay in Europe there was always his return home to an illiterate halfnaked father ... to tumbledown huts stinking of smoke and stale cooking; to the condition of the native woman and to sexual orgies to the syncopated rhythm of a tom-tom during nights of full moon ... it was neither ingratitude nor apostasy -if he turned away from his own people.” The book has been admirably translated from the Drench by Humphry Hare, and is a notable contribution to the literature of modern life in Africa.

The Traverse. By Helen Foley. Hodder and Stoughton. ' 256 PP.

Helen Foley’s story is full of minute analysis of character, and this makes “The Traverse"' a thoughtful novel. At the same time there is a certain unreality about some of the problems that are so resolutely tackled here. The reader becomes conscious of the feeling that Nell Slattery has to fill up the six months while her husband will be far away from her, climbing mountains in South America. She is a sociolo* gist by profession, so she starts to examine the behaviour of her two adolescent stepchildren, Harriet and Peter, and of the ambiguous Angela Lecky. There is plenty to exercise her wits; she even has to cope with Harriet’s attempt at suicide. But a good deal of Nell's activity seems to be much ado about nothing. Over The Counter. By Sheila Turner. Macdonald. 225 pp. This is a work of fiction, but so skilfully does the author clothe it in the trappings of autobiography that it seems to owe a great deal to personal experience. Mary Braid, a young widow, and her ex-naval commander brother, Jim, who has lost a leg in the war, pool their resources and take over a village shop at Lower Barley, in a remote corner of Wiltshire. During the ensuing year 'Mary keeps a diary in which she enters up parish doings and her impressions of the natives. The simple annals of the poor (and their betters) are not lacking in incident and Mary has much to say about women’s institute activities, local feuds, the village outing (starting at 6.30 a.m. and finishing at midnight), funerals and the exciting annual occasion known as “Barley’s Glory,” the crowning point of which is. the precipitation into a pond by one of two rival tug-of-war teams. Romance, of course, is in the offing and brother and sister end by pairing off with suitable partners. , It is the accurate and loving portrayal of the English rustic which gives the book its particular charm, and it should bring a touch of nostalgia to anyone who has ever lived in rural England,

At Odds ’ With Morning. By Katharine- Farrer. ' Hodder and Stoughton. 191 pp. Stories about religious fanatics run along a rather perilous edge between caricature and reality. In the case of Father Simon-Stock—-otherwise plain Mr Potts—Prior of a Brotherhood consisting of the barest quorum of would-be monks, his successful self-decep-tion redeems him from being a figure of rather doubtful fun, but the same can hardly be said' for his disciples, two of whom abscond with what money they can lay their hands on, and the other two stay true to their respective types which are neither contemplative nor unworldly. Having performed a dubious-'"miracle” and “raised, from the dead” a young woman who had had no medical

attention during a short but virulent illness, Simon-Stock prevailed upon her to renounce her absent sailor-sweetheart and enter

a nunnery as a postulant. Indirectly this inethical procedure was to lead to tragedy. The hero pt the book is Tony Crewe, who has been driven to alcoholic excess by the notoriously amoral behaviour of his mother, and after being pulled out of a ditch dead drunk by Simon-Stock is rather too easily persauded to join the Brotherhood. Somehow he can never fit into the picture, but he is the only member of the fraternity whom the village people of Ashcombe Crewe do not regard with deep suspicion. A spectacular flood which submerges the village restores Tony's sense of proportion, but leaves Simon-Stock untouched by the smallest accretion of commonsense or usefulness. Hie West-Country atmosphere and speech are admirably caught, but the book trembles too much on the edge of farce to make comfortable reading.

Citadel of God. By UoNa de Wohl. Gollancs. 349 pp. -

Mr de Wohl continues his series of historical novels based, on the lives of heroes of the church, and this time he has chosen to recreate the figure of St. Benedict. Like the other novels Mr de Wohl has written, this one, “Citadel of God,” appears to be based on sound knowledge of a period that does not attract the general reader—the fifth and sixth centuries of the Christian era. When the story opens, the youthful Benedict is a student in Rome. Although only 20, he has impressed the philosophic Boethius. In the corrupt Roman society of the time, however, Boethius is exceptional, and Benedict is repelled by the tone adopted,by the cultivated aristocrats about him. "It seemed that these people had a secret language of their own and yet they were each other’s enemies. A kind of sweetish and . perfumed hatred hung over the entire room, an invisible clotid, yet they inhaled and exhaled it as if it were their natural efement.” From this world he fled to solitude at Subiaco, and for the community that in due codrse gathered around him, he worked out the rule of life that has ever since kept his name in men’s minds. But there is much more than this in “Citadel of God.” It abounds in graphic pictures of the Roman and Gothic nobility, and these secondary figures are almost as interesting as the saint who dominates the scene.

Nobody’s Brother. By C. F. Griffin. Barrie Rockliff. 284 PP-

The jacket-design of this book depicts its chief character with uncanny realism. It shows a hol-low-cheated youth of a vaguely delinquent type in an attitude half defiiant, half supplicatory. Kenny is an epileptic, over-pro-tected by his old deaf grandmother, and nauseatingly cossetted by his sickening fool of a mother, who, though she fondles him with almost indecent tenderness when he is well turns from him in shuddering distaste during his seizures. Try as he will to lead a normal life Kenny is not fully accepted by his

schoolfellows, and when tie is convulsed with a fit in the open street, his gang, composed of oafish young toughs, desert him in a body. With the worsening of his condition his school-life has to be terminated, but this does not worry him for he is readily given to hero-worship, and concentrates it upon two peapie—a young doctor, Paul, who had befriended him during his street seizure, and a complicated character, Dan, who lives with his widowed sister Jean in the same building as Kenny, and has shown him some casual kindness. As a picture of certain New York types, most of them crude, neurotic or over-sentimental this is not a flattering book, though a quite revolting tiny tot who loves Kenny is apparently expected to evoke tenderness. But the portrait pf an unlayeable adolescent is rounded and' compassionate. Canaries Also Sing. By Eric Allen. Hammond 188 pp. The most original thing' about “Canaries Also Sing” is its Setting in the Canafry Islands. Miss Bell, on a cruise, decides to buy a canary in the Canary Islands. It would make an unusual present for a friend. But she. soon gets involved with some unscrupulous people, who are particularly interested in diamonds. They haunt the Cluib-Restaurante Caribbean, and the author has taken great pains to make them unpleasant. His best creations are the Portuguese da Costa and his henchman, the Trinidad negro, Irini. Miss Bell is the helpless tool, and the forces of order are represented by Douglas Main, quiet, but apparently indestructible. The plot of “Canaries Also Sing” is complicated, perhaps unduly complicated; hut in spite of this it is just credible and has more contact with reality, titan the usual crime thriller. ■ The Dry Taste of Fear. By Dorothea Bennett. Barker. 215 pp. “The Dry Taste of Fear” is a novel about intangible things. Clair Mallory Is an attractive girl, apparently quite normal in her relations with the people she meets. Pierre certainly means a great deal to her; that is made obvious in the first chapter. All the same she is afraid of something. It is never easy for the reader to work out what is at the bottom of her reaction to any situation, and the problem is not simplified by Clair’s habit of taking a new lover when the whim seizes her—Pierre, Alistair, Claud and Grey, they follow one another in rapid succession. When Clair’s problem is resolved, the book can end only in despair and death. Dorothea Bennett does not write from sufficient depth of insight and sympathy to make her novel a memorable one. "The Dry Taste of Fear” is an odd mingling of the frivolous and the pathetic.

Kingstree Island. By John Eble. Hodder and Stoughton. 281 pp. This is a meaty tale of a struggle for'power between two men on an island off North Carolina. When Brandon Rhodes arrives there he has no plans other than to get away from a hostile father, and to work for his living in a peaceful location remote from human conflicts. However, in Matt Tomlinson, an old blind man, who has assumed a patriarchal control over the Kingstree Islanders both economically and spiritually, he finds an implacable enemy, jealous of “the new man,” and determined in an oblique way to discredit him and have him banished to the mainland. The fact that Brandon has fallen in love with the girl Marsha Harris, who is Matt’s acknowledged heir, adds fuel to fire of the old man’s resentment, and by tortuous means he charges Brandon with such disruptive and anti-social actions as debauching a young girl, sending a man to his dearth on a rough sea, and sotting the law on to an island fishing fleet engaged in an illegal enterprise. Gradually allegiance falls away from the old man as Brendon’s integrity is demonstrated by his actions, and Tomlinson has to admit himself beaten. Kingstree men have such Biblical names as Jacob, Abel, Jesse, etc., and there is an Old Testament flavour about the story.