NEW FICTION

Press, Volume XCIX, Issue 29330, 8 October 1960, Page 3

NEW FICTION

Malcolm. By James Purdy. Seeker and Warburg. 224 pp. On the dust-jacket of “Malcolm,” the publishers quote Dame Edith Sitwell’s prediction that James Purdy “will be known as one of the greatest writers produced in America during the last 100 years.” The reader opens “Malcolm” with lively expectations. Mr Purdy writes in a selfconscious abrupt style that tends to break his story up into a string of episodes; and his invention flowers very easily into fantasy. Malcolm is a handsome boy of 15 who travels through the pages of the novel meeting people. They are all very odd, and they try Jo impose their personalities upon the boy, revealing themselves in the process. Although Malcolm is Sntouched by their devices, his fe is a short one, and this gives the book a strong conclusion and a certain air of significance. Although it is possible to see Malcolm as a modern Candide, it will probably be difficult to find two ’ readers in full agreement over this unusual character. Looking In, Looking Out. By Charles Humana. Collins. 256 pp. Pierre Cottin is an irrigation engineer who goes to Israel to advise on the construction of a dam, which will make the Negeb region blossom like the rose. The work interests him; but he also falls in love with this 'new country, in which the spirit Of democracy is fresh and vital. This feeling his wife cannot share, and the novel describes the gradual estrangement between them. The situation is made more painful from the day Pierre begins to admire Esther,'who is a technical assistant also engaged on his project. Pierre is fascinated by her independent spirit and her love of her country. His own wife, a rather colourless French woman, is finally sent back to France, and Pierre remains in Israel to mqke a new life. “Looking In, Looking Out” is, of course, a novel for sophisticated people. The Art of Llewellyn Jones. By Paul Hyde Bonner. Hodder and Stoughton. 345 pp.

The art of Llewellyn Jones is several-fold. First there is his carefully—contrived plan for disappearing from an intolerably dreary and artificial life as a top American diplomat in which he has been confined by a web spun by a rich and domineering wife. Next comes the urge to make up for years of passive resistance by. expressing a new personality through creative painting. Finally, is rebirth to the art of living unhampered by the morals and mores that have hemmed in his former existence. This metamorphosis of ■ a middle-aged man makes an entertaining novel. If a little implausible in parts it is sincerely written and told in a brisk incisive style; indeed, with their crisp action, mystery and suspense, the opening chapters would grace a Hitchcock film. Paul Bonner is an excellent character builder. Whether he is forming a picture of' a ruthless American heiress, a nauseatingly decadent artist, or a delightfully ingenious French maid, his portraits are vividly interesting and convincingly real.

The Hill of Sleep. By Morley Trotnan. Chatto and Wind Us. 220 pp. This is a novel of some distinction. It deals with the events of a day remembered 15 years after. The narrator has gone back to a small island off the coast of Britr tany, where he had been in hiding from the Germans, who occupied the island. He is remembering what happened on a spring day th 1944, and he is gathering information from the islanders. Many people help him to piece together the pattern, for it was known that someone was hiding in the gorse on Menneghousk hill. Only 15 years after does he come to realise the chain of events his presence there had set in motion. Everything, he finds, seems related to Old Saliou, the recluse who succoured him on the hill and finally, at the cost of his own life, had arranged his escape. There is nothing dramatic or sensational about “The Hill of Sleep,” but it is a novel that seems to reflect a genuine experience. It is valuable for that reason. The Fort of San Lorenzo. By Marie Forestier. Hodder and Stoughton. 187 pp. This is an unusual novel for a woman to write, for “this is the story of Allan Desmond, who served under Wellington in Spain.” There he had many adventures, some of which are unusual teven in a novel of this type!.' However, after the fall of Napoleon, he returned to England, and there was involved in practices which the authorities considered subversive. As one of the characters remarks, “In Spain he developed a liking for the cavaille, and even more for intrigue and rebellion.? Allan Desmond tried to resist the movement to enclose common land, which, he knew, would drive unfortunate men to despair by depriving them of the means to live as free men. This part of the book is moving, although at time? a little lacking in substance. Nevertheless the author looks pt life and at a period of history from an individual point of view. Leathers on Wild Coast. By Edward M. Chrystie. Hodder and Stoughton. 190 pp. This is the fifth volume through whose exciting pages “Leathers” Auckland, described in a foreword as “the young Secret Agent with the dynamite fists” pursues, in company with his pipe-smoking chief. Colonel Randall, that sinister villain van der Horst, head of an international criminal organisation which is employed in smuggling gold out of South Africa. Together the two gallant figures set forth by jet aircraft for South Africa to apprehend the scoundrel. Assisted by two intrepid members of the Young Explorers’ Association they locate van der Horst’s hideout, and once more, after hairbreath escapes from sundry unpleasant forms of death, they manage to foil his plans, though not of course to capture him—a denouement which is probably several books ahead. It is pleasant (o reflect that in a too-sophisticated world there are still boys who enjoy this type of fiction, though ■ the age-group of Mr Chrystie’s readers is probably a good deal lower than it might have been fifty years ago.