SOME OF THE NEW NOVELS

Press, Volume CVII, Issue 31530, 18 November 1967, Page 4

SOME OF THE NEW NOVELS

Epp. By Axel Jensen. Chatto and Windus. 116 pp.

The reading public, having been prepared by such prophets as Aldous Huxley and George Orwell, has become accustomed to horrific glimpses into the future in which the human animal is shown as being conditioned to accept anything that fate, and the march of time, can inflict on him. Axel Jensen, a prizewinning Norwegian author, has created in Epp a type of freak which fortunately may never evolve. In a spatial society, where lives are organised and regulated by some Massauthority, Epp, a retired gluesprayer, occupies one room in Residential Block 982 in the settlement of Oblidor. He has nothing whatever to think of except a pot plant, which he affectionately calls Hi, his own health, and his neighbours, upon whom he spies malevolently, and he keeps a journal recording their habits, which he alone reads. Lem, in the next room, is the subject of much scorching condemnation, for he has actually suggested that the residents of the block should get together and be friends, and Epp, with his plant, his electro-blanket and hypochondrical musings about his health, is outraged at the idea. Lem goes to the seaside resort of Ajijik and Epp devotes a chapter to considering whether he will “look up” his new neighbour, or whether the latter should “look up” Epp. But though he concentrates his main attention on Hi, his wall-paper (another obsession) and his egg-boiler, which has unpredictable habits, it is not for want of concern from the authorities. He is invited to join a culture drive. “The Automatic-Pen-sioners’ Association, in consultation with the Folk Enlightenment Department, the Culture Council and the Cosmocrat’s League is busy urging us laggards in the residential block sector to put our selves in the hands of the teaching-machines.” There now! But he can’t upset his routine, even for this glowing prospect. There is a lunatic fascination in this picture of a lunatic future, and the translator, Oliver Stallybrass, has done his job well. Cruise. By Peter Baker. Souvenir Press. 320 pp.

The author's second novel puts an amazing collection of characters together on board the S.S. Queen Dee for a short Mediterranean cruise. It is Captain Corlett’s last voyage before retirement, but hopes that it will prove uneventful and allow him to brood quietly on the end of a long sea career are soon dashed. His new First Officer, David Welch, appears to be accidentprone, not just with ships and their crews but also with his female passengers. The bombastic Lady Fiona Pratley does not take kindly to being thrown over for the wealthy, but still grieving widow, Pamela Westcott, so gets her own back by seducing Pamela’s teenage son, who in turn has already had to repel the amorous advances of John, his cabin mate. These manoeuvres take place in the luxurious first-class accommodation of the Queen Dee as she sails amongst such colourful ports as Nice, Naples, Athens and Beirut, so the reader can enjoy a spot of armchair travelling and brush up on his nautical knowledge while Mr Baker manipulates his characters through the plot. Blackmail, a collision in fog with a tanker and a suicide bring the book to its climax, but Captain Corlett gets his ship safely back to Southampton even if there are a few dinted steel plates and reputations on board. Mr Baker takes a Hot of trouble to present his settings as authentic and his characters as integrated human-beings but his novel is merely diverting.

The Unaltered Cat. By Albert Lewin. Harvill. 192 pp.

This is a first novel, and a most unusual one. Though set among the sophistications of contemporary New York, it is a fantasy drawing its inspiration from the ancient myths, legends and religious beliefs of many countries, especially those related to lycanthropy, or the belief that some people have the capacity to transform themselves from human to animal form, and vice-versa, at certain seasons and in certain circumstances. It is therefore excusable to believe at the outset of the novel that Mr Lewin has his tongue in his cheek and a whimsical gleam in his eyes as he gathers the learned, worldly, sorrowing friends of the late dis-

tingulshed archaeologist “Robbie” Roberts for an afterfuneral discussion on why he had died. There was something more to it, they felt, than the fatal heart condition the doctors had certified. But, though the author may have seemed at the beginning to have launched an intellectual frolic with the imagination, Part two of the book soon makes it clear that “Robbie’s” devoted coterie of archaeologists and anthropologists had been talking of mysterious happenings woven into high and fantastical drama, the details of which were unknown to all but one of them at the time.

What the others did not know was that “Robbie’s” second wife, the attractive Letty, had feline 1 affiliations, that she could purr, read in the semi-dark, have a love affair with a Siamese cat, and change herself into a cat for nocturnal prowls. By the time the book is written she and her cat paramour have been buried in a pet cemetery: but that has not prevented Mr Lewin—ex-professor, ex-film director—from characterising them strikingly in a cynical drama and causing this reviewer to resort to a dictionary on more than one occasion.

The Long Pursuit By Jon Cleary. Collins. 256 pp.

Take half a dozen people of disparate tastes, different nationalities, and varying standards of values; set them down in hostile surroundings with an unseen enemy in pursuit and you have the ingredients <rf a good suspense novel. Jon Cleary is a master of this genre, and he has selected for his background the chaotic world of Malaya following the Japanese capture of Singapore in 1942. A Sandhurst-educated Britisfh officer, Maynard: a disciplineresistant Australian, Murphy: an American professional boxer, Case; and the English bank-clerk Garrick—with his precious suitcase of banknotes rescued from his bank in Singapore, form the Western nucleus of a band of unhappy warriors in the Sumatran jungle. Later they are joined by a Sikh, and an Italian who has escaped from a British prison camp. Finally they add to the party a Dutch girl of high degree whose family has been of the ruling caste in the country for three generations, and the Indonesian servant who has asked to stay with her. Maynard, who. as a professional soldier, takes command of the party, is bitterly resented by Murphy, and senses a similar kind of hostility in Case, but their safety depends upon their reaching Palembang. and from there trying to cross the Timor Sea to Australia. With a common peril to face, the three men somehow come to terms. None trusts the Indonesian guide, and all have some bad moments expecting him to betray them. Suspense mounts as the party reach the outskirts of Palembang. The author wisely resists any temptation to slow down the action of the book by Introducing any love interest; but the story certainly calls for film treatment which would almost inevitably include a romantic involvement.

Sarah Morris Remembers. By D. E. Stevenson, Collins. 320 pp.

Although this story includes the death of Sarah's mother, her separation because of the war from the Austrian student she loves and her own experiences during the London blitz, this is by no means a sad or violent book. It is in fact a gentle one and, as the title suggests. Is seen through the eyes of Sarah Morris, a clergyman’s daughter, interpreter in a large London store and housekeeper to her father. She recalls without bitterness the sudden departure a week before their wedding of Charles —half Austrian, half Scottish—aa he hurries back to Vienna in an attempt to rescue his too-outspoken father from prison. War breaks out and be cannot return to her. She is convinced that he is alive but doubts torment her when she is alone. Her brothers, Willy and Lewis, are also involved in the war, Willy making precision instruments and Lewis in the Army. And then there is Lottie, the pretty, spoiled baby of the family, always taking, never giving. The Morris family are all clear-cut personalities and this story of the effect of the war on them and their effect on one another is well told. The threads are I gradually drawn in one by one to make a neat but very (convincing story.

The Plano Sport By Don Asher. W. H. Allen. 173 PP.

Mr Asher’s first novel is entertaining light reading. His young Jewish hero. Jay Greene, and sister Jo, leave the quiet humdrum New England town where their father owns and operates “Greene’s Wear for Dad and Lad” for a new life in San Francisco. Jay is seeking a little masculine enterprise and independence whilst Jo yearns for a more cosmopolitan existence. Recently graduated from a decorous music conservatoire, Jay takes a job as piano accompanist to strippers at Marty’s 540 Club and there meets Norman, the exuberant doorman-bouncer

who provides an unlikely suitor to classy, cultured Jo. Jay is anxious to extend his own sexual education and his lecherous forays take in potsmoking Hester, who would rather play duets, kinky Sharon, who answers most questions “affirmative” and finally his pupil Oriole, who just wants to be friends. The author deals with all this in a brisk, racy style; his medley of characters are all well drawn and his narrative of a contemporary young man and his circle, although inconsequential, is never dull.

The Last Best Friend. By George Sims. Gollancz. 191 pp.

The story began with Sammy Weiss, a Jew who had suffered much in Buchenwald and had made friends and a good position for himself In London, falling from a ledge ten stories high. Ned Balfour, on holiday in Corsica, had received a cable from Sammy appealing for help on the previous day. It was hard to understand why Sammy, who was known to be subject to fits of vertigo, should have

been in such a place and none of his friends could tell Ned anything when he immediately returned to London. After making a few more Inquiries Ned was himself threatened with grievous harm if he continued his investigations. He did so, however, and the story develops in taut and intriguing fashion in the London of the art dealers -whose activities are an integral part of the plot. Along with the splen-ididly-handled suspense in the book there are many glimpses of unusual parts of London succinctly and vividly described. In this and in his strong definition of his characters Mr Sims shows himself to be a writer far above the average for this class of book and it is a pleasure to come across such polished handling of the language. The Kingdom of this World. By Alejo Carpentier. Translated from the Spanish by Harriet de Onis. Gollancz. 150 pp.

This is another very remarkable novel by Alejo Carpentier: although shorter than “The Lost Steps” and “Explosion in a Cathedral," it loses nothing in quality. Carpentier has a brilliant knack of keeping the brutal segments of the narrative vibrant, strong and with an economy of words that adds lustre and not repulsion to the less glamorous episodes. The story concerns a negro slave. Ti Noel, who weaves a fantastic life through one of the fiercest episodes in world history—that of the Negro revolution in the Caribbean, which during the period of the French Revolution established a black republic in San Domingo. It is a rich strange tale of superstitions and violence; yet it is beautiful in its colourful descriptions of a whole extravagant world of fact and fiction