NEW FICTION

Press, Volume CVI, Issue 31113, 16 July 1966, Page 4

NEW FICTION

The Judge. By Alan Thomas. Gollancz. 253 pp.

After the terse understatement of slicker more fastmoving novels, the unhurried presentation of ideas here, in the C. P. Snow style—examined, viewed from all angles, and taken through to their conclusion, strikes one as an almost daring procedure; but it is one that pays off. Certainly the plot with its True - Romance unoriginality seems unworthy of the people involved, and towards the end we may become impatient with the lack of pace, but it is the perceptive delving into character and motive that holds the interest. This is a testimony of friendship between two men, which begins in the trenches of the Somme in the First World War. The main character is Roy Jevington, humanitarian and lawyer, who after the war, egged on by an ambitious wife, becomes a Judge of the High Court. The story is told objectively in the first person, by his close friend, Theo, rather in the manner, of Anthony Powell's story-' teller in “The Music of Time”! novels—standing back to record impartially events in which he is little involved.’ Although a judge’s function is to interpret the law and dispense justice, Jevington's compassionate nature tends more towards mercy than justice, and inner conflicts arise that are to shape his life. Early in the book wei read; “He was far more concerned with the character and prospects of the individual he was prosecuting or defending than with the case’s legal aspects. The quality that singled him out, was the; genuineness of his feeling for, the underdog.” In the murder! trial on which the plot, hinges, Jevington’s feelings of concern for the accused’ are strongly conditioned by an earlier personal experience, the nature of which is only hinted at but which is revealed in his diary after his death. This diary forms the last half of the book, and is effectively used to clarify the preceding pages and to illumine the life of the judge. This is the fourth of such books by Mr Thomas, based on a central professional figure. The Solid Mandala. By Patrick White. Eyre and Spottiswoode. 317 pp.

In this study of the relations between twin brothers who were fated to grow old together Patrick White shows remarkable sensitivity. The Browns, Waldo and Arthur, differed from each other to such a marked degree that, with the years, their enclosed lives in a small Australian township, became a burden of enforced propinquity which inevitably had to end in tragedy. Waldo, the intelligent brother, found employment in the Public Library, and nursed a secret ambition to write. Arthur, large, shambling, and simple to the point of near-imbecility—yet with a curiously good head for figures—worked in a local store and drove a truck, delivering orders. Waldo’s reaction to his twin was always one of distaste, verging on hatred. Arthur’s craving for fraternal love and kindness was summed up in the constantly repeated phrase; “We have each other.” With the retirement of both from active employment they would walk together daily with their two dogs, hand-in-hand in a symbolically Siamese • twin togetherness which intensified their differing psychological make-up, until their problem resolved itself in a rather obscure climax. The author’s addiction to short telegraphic sentences, with frequent fullstops is irresistibly reminiscent of Mr Jingle, and, as a technique, is apt to be wearisome. But his characterdrawing is inimitable, and the portrait of poor, simple Arthur dispensing his: cherished collection of mar-| bles to the few people who; had shown him kindness, is life size. Billion Dollar Brain. By, Len Deighton. Jonathan Cape. 312 pp. Len Deighton is riding high; on the wave of spy thrillers! following in the wake of James Bond. His latest book is marvellously slick and at times wildly funny. Although his novel is highly professional in its use of the jargon and the technical apparatus of espionage, the most attractive point about it is its lightheartedness. The story is laconically related by Dempsey alias Jolly alias English, the British spy with a flair for women, danger and metaphors. He penetrates a band of international spies who are paid by a megalomaniac millionaire from Texas. General Midwinter's agents in training habitually pray for assistance from God in cleansing, America of communism, and’ are exhaustively trained in every aspect of total warfare. General Midwinter is an archconservative who believes that Communists are gaining control of every field in the United States of America including the White House, and considers it bis personal mission to overthrow Russia and purify the West The mastermind behind this grandiose scheme is a sophisicated computer which can almost think like a man. The British spy’s assignment is to assess the amateur spy ring, to gather as much information as he can about the organisation, and eventually to dispose of a potentially i

embarrassing turncoat. Forj the most part, however, he, is simply swept along by a veritable torrent of events. At all points he appears to be totally aware of their meaning, but the reader would do well to read passively, with- [ out attempting to analyse the importance of each new adventure. The true star of the book glitters with an enchanting, improbable fantasy. She is Signe Laine, a very young blonde Finnish agent, with a soaring imagination, an enthusiastic enjoyment of sex, and an emphatic taste for champagne and shoes. It is well worth while reading this book for the I sheer pleasure of making the acquaintance of this wonderful girl of many parts. Salisbury Plain. By H. C. Branson. Gollancz. 316 PPIn the good old days of the ’American Civil War, soldiers were courteous, gallant, and ! romantic heroes. They ’honoured the enemy, and, if given a choice, would rather ; shoot a horse than a man. .They lived so gloriously in 'their youth that the remainder of their lives could only seem trivial and pallid. I Or so H. C. Branson suggests in his novel, “Salisbury i Plain.” It is an old-fashioned novel, which barely questions the assumption that war is : dramatic and exhilarating and morally justifiable. ! Above all, this is a book for ! soldiers, real and wishful. ’About half of the novel consists of descriptions of battles in the Civil War— I blow by blow, wound by wound—and of battlefields—tree by tree, stone by stone. Thus, for those truly interested in learning about methods of fighting at this era of American history, it is bound to be an interesting work. Others, however, risk boredom, especially as the prose is conventional. The plot held possibilities of excitement. General Pack’s wife, a lovely Austrian Countess, joins the army at a hiatus in the fighting. All the regiment is fired with admiration, and she falls in love with a dashing young colonel. The rivals fight a kind of duel when the General commits his men to a battle against dreadful odds, on the tacit assumption that only one of the two men will survive the ordeal. However, not even the Countess comes to life on the pages, and the characters all remain comparatively flat. Wyatt’s Hurricane. By Desmond Bagley. Collins. 288 PPThis book was the Book Society’s second choice for April and deserved the honour. The story is set on the island of San Fernando in the Caribbean, and opens with Wyatt, a weather expert on loan to the American forces based on the island, carrying out a terrifying examination, from an aeroplane, of a hurricane known as Mabel. Although scientific data would suggest that Mabel is unlikely to hit San Fernando, Wyatt knows from experience that such a hurricane’s course can stray from normal predictions and fears this will happen. Mabel’s looming destruction of most of the island casts on events there the ominous lowering of classical tragedy. The island, ruled by a megalomaniac dictator called Serurier, is about to be torn by civil war when the insurgent forces led by one Favel—a tough but rather likeable character—descend from the hills upon the capital city of St. Pierre. The battle which follows and the ghastly wounds of civil war are seen as futile against the carnage which Mabel is bringing ever closer from just beyond the horizon, Wyatt’s warnings to Serurier are unheeded; unsupported by clear scientific facts they force the commander of the American garrison

lat the leased base to take a calculated risk in remaining on the island; Favel, however does heed them and decides to turn the approaching hurricane into a weapon of war in his strategy. This horrifies Wyatt, but Favel, outnumbered by government forces, will use all that comes his way. With despatch and, where necessary, with brutality he evacuates most of the civilian population to the hills and retires what remains of his men there. Mabel strikes and with the attendant tidal wave makes a nonsense of Serurier’s counter-attack. The Americans escape just in time. Caught in the toils of the story are an airhostess engaged to Wyatt: Dawson, a bombastic writer whose searing experiences cause him to find a courage and selfdependability uncreated by his crooked press-agent; Rawsthorne, the elderly and ailing British consul, whose quiet heroism and inevitable death are movingly told; and Mrs Warmington, a self-centred American woman who, unchanged by devastation wrought by man and by nature, remains a strong candidate for prizes if she were to be exhibited in a dog show. The overwhelming descriptions, the characterisations, and the balance of presentation in the story are admirable. I love you, I hate you, drop dead! Variations on a theme. By Artie Shaw. Phoenix. 192 pp. Mr Shaw’s second book establishes his reputation as a raconteur and humorist beyond all doubt. These variations on a theme—that of marriage on the rocks—are developed by the clarinettist as skilfully with his pen as with his music. The titles of the trilogy—“ Grounds for Divorce,” “Old Friend,” and “Whodunit?” are separate stories, and each deals with a different aspect of the recurrent theme. With another writer this could prove monotonous, but the satirical Mr Shaw, undoubtedly speaking from experience, and with delightful humour, maintains the interest. Many a husband, wife, or mistress will find themselves here, and will no doubt wonder how much of themselves they have betrayed to other skilled observers. In the vernacular and a short, pithy style, we are led through the diverse causes of unhappy marriages to the desperation of an unconvicted murderer, wondering which of Mr Shaw’s friends, or his own experience, inspired the creation of his characters. It is obvious that Mr Shaw feels very deeply about the increasing divorce rate, and applies his own insight to the problem. Altogether this is most entertaining and amusing reading. Fall-Girl. By Jill Neville. Weidenfeld and Nicolson. 144 pp. This story of an Australian girl in London is told in the first person, and begins near the end. In her bed which she is sharing with a famous American artist, whom she has just met and who is to return to the United States the next day, she recalls her childhood in Sydney and her experiences while living with a pseudo-intellectual group in London. There is nothing extraordinary in all this, but the novel is lifted above the ordinary by its wit, the sharp economical writing, and the evocative language. Doubtless the author’s work as a poet has helped her in choosing the words to present such a clear picture of a life that was often dreary, sometimes squalid, frequently sad, and only occasionally joyous. And If at first one wonders about the title, a study of the jacket and a perusal of the book will enable the reader to arrive at a pretty good definition of a fall-girl.