RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CII, Issue 30038, 24 January 1963, Page 20

RANDOM REMINDER

LITERARY LAPSES

One of the first requirements in preparing for a holiday is the provision of plenty of suitable literature, for if there is anything the average man looks forward to, it is the prospect of hours of quiet reading in the sunshine. So it is usual to find the prospective holidaymaker dropping quiet hints among his colleagues for the few days before his departure, and winding up with two or three dozen paper-backs, nearly all of them bearing lurid illustrations of brazen-looking blondes either partly dressed or very dead, or both. But somewhere in the collection there will be something a little more substantial—the collected works of Shakespeare, er “War and Peace’’ or something equally likely

to impress chance visitors. But it is sometimes discovered that the paperbacks and the sunshine do not provide all the relaxation expected. This is because there are so many interruptions—children demanding, with their usual impatience. to have fish-hooks removed from their ears, or wives stating coldly that the meal has been ready for an hour. Then there are other holidaymakers who have not come so well prepared and borrow some of the books. The confusion is increased by the very fact that there is so much reading available. So what generally happens is that one never knows quite where one is. or who dunnit, to who. It is distinctly confusing to find that James Bond, who at th* last

reading was heavily engaged with an ambitious Bulgarian beauty, is now fighting for his life against a giant squid off the Galapagos Islands. Perhaps Bond doesn't notice the difference, but the reader does, as he searches desperately for the right title. And after a while, the whole thing is a mess; the reader becomes convinced that the frail little widow from Little Friaington, who apparently spends all her time knitting for nieces, (Agatha Christie) is the one responsible for nobbling the favourite for the Melbourne Cup (Nat Gould). And John Buchan does not really meld properly with Peter Cheyney. After a week or two of this, the holiday-maker is ready to throw the whole lot away. Or even read: “War and Peace.’’ (