NEW FICTION

Press, Volume CV, Issue 30971, 29 January 1966, Page 4

NEW FICTION

A Covenant With Death. By Stephen Becker. Hamish Hamilton. 204 pp.

When so many modern novels speak of the futility of life and the importance of self it is a positive delight to find a novelist who shouts of the | joys of having and em-; phasises the virtues of love J and responsibility in society. 1 Becker concludes his fascinating and inspiring book with this magnificent “moral to my long story”—“Wiggle your fingers. Wiggle your toes. Go naked to the market. Rejoice in all mornings. Join hands and kiss. Laugh—Love. If you cannot love, pity. If you cannot pity, have mercy. That man is not your brother; he is you.” But this love of life is not the only merit of the novel. The story is set in Soledad City, a small hot town near the Mexican border, and it is seen through the eyes of the young Ben Lewis, recently appointed judge in the town. It begins with the murder of Louise Talbot and the arrest of her husband and moves through a startling series of events to a well-sustained climax and a delightful finale, Ben at first is an interested but detached onlooker; as he becomes more involved we get a penetrating and vivid insight into the mind of a young man in high position struggling with his responsibility and attempting to translate his ideals into practice. Yet Ben is very far from being a pompous hero, he laughs at himself with a wry humour that invites us to share the joke. Unlike many narrators in modern novels he is not simply a shadowy figure telling the story but a man we

can feel we know, trust and admire. Nor is Ben the only character to come so vividly alive; his mother, loving, authoritative, lonely: Talbot, loose-living drunken but clinging fiercely to life; Parmelee, the defence attorney, upright convincing, these and all others in the book are wonderfully drawn. It is difficult to praise this novel too highly. Well constructed with nothing superfluous to plot or theme it yet manages to convey a sense of the life of the whole city buzzing with gossip. An exciting story of action and suspense, it also explores in depth and with sensitivity the problem of the death penalty. Immensely serious in content it is written with a humour which forbids solemnity yet reinforces the theme. Without a doubt this is one of the most enthralling modern novels from the United States and one which deserves to be read and re-read by a wide public. Strangers. By Siegfried Stander. Gollancz. Those of us who wonder about the intellectual and emotional maturity of many of the modern emerging nations, particularly those of Asia and Africa, will not find that Siegfried Stander does anything to allay our fears. The coincidental timing of the publication with the Rhodesian crisis naturally makes the tale more significant than ever. The setting is an imaginary African state of Gondwanaland. Here are the mercenary white soldiers leading opposing factions. The intrigue and isolated skirmishes launch us eventually into sharing the lives of a group of political and military prisoners, a group mainly composed of Westerners. In the time of waiting prior to escape we have the opportunity of considering the reasons which spurred each one to leave his country and try his fortune in such precarious careers. The leading character is Redbeard who manifests the great qualities of leadership, tenacity, courage, single mindedness, which are tested firstly in an abortive attempt to escape, and then in a successful one. This was to be but the first fruits of a rich new life, wherein Redbeard’s dark companion Letaka eventually assumes leadership of the state. In the midst of United Nations representations and all types of officialdom, we now see a pathetic representation of a Prime Minister whose sole end is that of a sensuous self indulgence. The carnage which is the inevitable nemesis of such irresponsibility is frightening in its toll of human life, including that of Redbeard. The plot and the characters are unfortunately and indelibly woven into, the life of our world. A dilemma has been created in the mind of Western thought as to what to do in this the twilight of colonialism. Those, who are looking for a real answer, will not find it here. The reading of the last page leaves one disturbed and fearful and brings to mind the words of T. S. Eliot, where he describes the world as ending not with a bang, but with a whimper. Such seems the appropriate emotion for those who must guide the affairs of uneducated national groups in our contemporary world. Labour of Love. By John Stroud. Longmans. 211 pp. This novel tells of Hazel Cartwright who takes a job as a housemother in a children’s home. Mr Stroud has a long record of experience in both the practical and administrative sides of

the Child Care Service and is clearly writing of what he knows. The reader gains an insight into the running of such homes and the problems and difficulties anyone entering this work must face. Yet one wonders if Mr Stroud would not have been better advised to write a documentary and give us his knowledge first hand without the disguise of fiction, for the merits of this book are scarcely sufficient to outweigh the defects. Mr Stroud has a knowledge of his subject and the ability to convey something of the pleasures and frustrations of work among under-privileged children but the novel form demands more than that. The book has no plot but is simply a series of episodes unrelated save for the fact that Hazel figures in almost all of them. The children rarely come vividly alive but seem created specially to show the different effects rejection or neglect by parents can have. They appear as symbols rather than people. The dialogue is frequently stilted and unreal and too often Mr Stroud allows sentimentality to creep into his pages. Yet it is clear from this novel and from his earlier one "The Shorn Lamb,” that John Stroud has much to tell us. His sympathy with the children is evident, he frequently displays a light amusing touch and he has an intimate knowledge of the problems he discusses —one wishes only that these qualities could be combined in a more sustained and interesting form.

Tomorrow’s Hidden Season By George Byram. Bar rie and Rockcliff. 435 pp

George Byram has been compared with the young Steinbeck, and he has Steinbeck’s quality of interesting his readers in a people and a way of life which to most of them are totally unfamiliar. The setting of this book is a Colorado ranch in which racehorses are bred and trained. A young Mexican, Alfredo Ortega, is the chief character and the story centres on his life-long feud with the ranch foreman, Andy Kincaid. But the characters of the ranchowner, Burridge, the wise Chinese cook, John Wong, and the untamed woman, Leslie Ann Mellinger, together with many others are superbly drawn, giving the book an epic flavour. Alfredo, when a boy of twelve, had seen his mother shot dead by a lover she had double-crossed. This ended his life as a Mexican peasant, which he had lived up to that time, but his uncanny knowledge of horses and genius for handling them had been observed by Burridge, who thereafter adopted the boy, and weaned him gradually from his state of dumb shock. It was this unspoken favouritism that caused the other men on the ranch, and especially Andy to try to undermine Alfredo’s pride on account of his race, and to trip him into disgracing himself. In due course the youth developed his own tortuous defence mechanism against these tactics, while giving increasing demonstrations of his understanding of the racehorses which were his life’s work and chief passion. There is an authenticity in the actions and lives of this man-and-horse world which allows of no verbal niceties. The mating techniques of horses and human beings are described in strong and simple terms which relieves them of any suggestion of prurience. The author is himself a horsefanner, and the ways of thoroughbreds are made as credible in this book as those of humanity.