FROM THE NEW FICTION LISTS

Press, Volume CIX, Issue 32222, 14 February 1970, Page 4

FROM THE NEW FICTION LISTS

* Pocketful Of Rye. By A. J. Cronin. Heinemann. 217 pp.

A sequel to "A Song of Sixpence." A J. Cronin's new novel features Laurence Carroll as a young man. now a qualified doctor. Straining to escape from a series of soul-destroying general practitioner locations he manages with a little forgery, a few lies and a modicum of deceit, to secure a post as director of a clinic for sick children in Switzerland. With a sinecure of a job and a Swedish air-hostess girl friend with a voracious sexual appetite, he is all set to indulge in his natural inclination towards a lazy opportunist way of life. Then into his life comes an unwelcome intrusion from the past. Cathy Davigan. a girl he knew from a year spent with his grandparents in a Scottish town, brings her gravely sick seven-year-old to the clinic for treatment The doctors unwilling involvement with the precocious young Danny, the mystery concerning the death of Cathy’s husband and the re-kindling of an emotional spark between mother and doctor bring Laurence to a crisis of conscience. His own modification of the Hippocratic oath—when stuck with a difficult and prolonged case, get rid of it—is finally in conflict with a reluctantly resurrected Catholic conscience. Mr Cronin is completely at home in the nuances of such a situation and keeps his reader firmly involved until the final denouement.

See You in Yasukuni. By Gerald Hanley. Collins. 224 pp.

Gerald Hanley has written a novel which does not merely show us the war from the point of view of a Japanese soldier, but which attempts a deep and searching examination of the austere and dedicated creed behind the Japanese Army's incredible discipline and ferocity. The protagonist of this relatively simple but very moving story is Kyoga, a private in the Imperial force, trained in its rigid discipline but remembering constantly his early contacts with Westerners and the excitement their ideas and religion aroused in him. L'nable to believe wholeheartedly in Japan s destiny, in the unimportance of individual human life and in the need for blind obedience, he attempts his own rebellion and escape but is forced to stumble reluctantly on with the army. Qn either side of him stand two more complex figures. The first is Major Bruce, a captive Englishman, full of fear and uncertainty yet struggling to maintain his own ideal of personal honour. The second is Colonel Suzuki, of the Kempei Tai, or Japanese Gestapo, a ruthless man, dedicated to the ideal of world conquest by the Japanese and determined to destroy any seeds of discontent or rebellion in the Japanese army. The background of the novel is the horror, futility and brutality of the war in Malaya and Burma. Against this, Gerald Hanley weaves together the strands of these three lives until all end in tragedy as the defeated and broken Japanese army retreats. This is an extremely moving novel, well written and displaying a deep understanding of the different workings of men's minds.

Remember Jack Hoxie. By Joo Cleary. Collins. 320 pp.

The name Jon Cleary on the dust jacket of a new novel promises a book which will be easy and agreeable to read; one ideally suited to a holiday week-end or a day in bed. This promise is well fulfilled in his latest novel, ‘■Remember Jack Hoxie," which tells the story of a widower whose only son suddenly becomes a pop music star; the idol of millions of screaming teenage girls. The bond of very real affection between father and son leads Patrick Norval to accept from the youthful promoter a position as his son Bob's manager. This involves him in life far removed from that of the surburban one he had lived with his wife and involves him also in many conflicts of emotions and loyalties. There is nothing particularly deep or impressive about the book, but neither are there any great faults. An episodic story holds the interest and is told with some humour and perception. The characters are in the main adequately and sympathetically portrayed. Bob remains more or less a cipher but Patrick and some others, most notably Henry, a negro musician, become real and likeable people. The strange transient world of the pop-singer and his entourage, of the long tours with one night stops, and of packed noisy concert halls, form the background of the novel. The vivid picture given of this strange life is the book’s major strength and attraction.

The People Trap. By Robert Sheckley. Gollancz. 222 pp.

The 14 stories in Robert Sheckley's latest collection of science fiction, if lighter and more trivial in mood than those in his previous collections, are still of the same very high standard. There is less of his peculiar brand of nonsensical, philosophical humour here, and a correspondingly greater reliance on sheer ingenuity. That the collection is such a success bears tribute to Mr Sheckley’s great talent. To select any of the stories for special mention would be impossible; they are all inimitable. "The People Trap" is grand science fiction, and grand entertainment.

Rage in Silence. By Donald Braider. Bodley Head. 318 pp.

The career of Francisco Goya was energetic and varied, but when, aged nearly fifty, he was left stone deaf and partly blind by a severe illness, his friends predicted that his gallantry would be curbed. For a time, it looked as if they would be right: Goya found that “womanising” (the euphemism is Braider’s) was intimately related to sound, and after a few disconcerting affairs he announced that be was renouncing the company of women for ever. Of course, he did not keep his resolution, and before long he was again leading a frantically full life—so full, in fact, that Donald Braider's novel based on Goya's life begins only after the deafness. This allows all the material for a first-rate popular novel: a good range of characters, a well-struc-tured story-line, plenty of political and religious feuds, and a number of unusual love-affairs. But in spite of this, the novel does not rise very high. None of the secondary characters has any vitality, and only occasionally does Goya come to life; narration is in the third person. The weakness behind the characterisation is in the dialogue, which is mostly very unconvincing. Also, Braider has difficulty in effecting transitions between narrative and dialogue, and in the discreet blending of colloquialisms: "Unusual?" bellowed Goya. “It’s goddamned well unique.” Those with an interest in Goya or in Spain will find this imaginative reconstruction interesting and original: readers who rely solely on its merits as a novel will be disappointed.

The Penny Wars. By Elliott Baker. Michael Joseph. 253 pp.

Mr Baker’s novel explores the conscience of a sixteen-year-old boy living in an American town in 1939. Tyler Bishop is disgusted by the apathy of his family and community with regard to local and personal injustices as well as the war in Europe. His friend Howie asks him “What d'ya want, anyway?” “I just want to get laid and save the world.” said Tyler. “In that order” Tyler’s neighbourhood is a poor one. mostly consisting of Negroes and recent immigrants from Europe. In intervals of hoping for a willing girl, Tyler sees spies everywhere and thinks up methods to raise the fare to Canada, where he could enlist. Tyler’s greatest crisis comes when his father dies and his mother decides to marry again. The thought of her marrying at al! fs hard enough to take (she’s got no money—she’s not beautiful, he thinks) but her choice really sticks in his throat. The trouble with this book is that Tyler is no more conscious of why he thinks and acts as he does at the end than he was at the beginning. The book thus lacks the interest which could have come from his development. The story is, however, told fluently, with all of the morbid self-interest of the adolescent here spelt out in detail. Jam Today. By Susan Barrett. Michael Joseph. 224 pp. Susan Barrett's first novel has an easy, episodic structure which follows the vicissitudes of a young girl out to have a comfortable life without working too hard for it. The author has struck

a highly successful kind of humour and keeps it up throughout the novel without any hint of strain (except perhaps in plotting the end), relying on simple narration and the heroine's ingenious cunning to carry it off. Channing, tall Louisa, who has lost her job as an advertising agency's secretary, is at a loss, for a moment, as to how to keep herself. To be kept is not quite her ideal answer. She decides to become an amateur prostitute but still remain virgin, for the sake of Rex, her ex-boss. Louisa easily gets a free flat in exchange for the landlord’s privilege of staying in the bathroom while she bathes. To frighten off her paying customers at the last moment she keeps half a menagerie concealed about the flat. As a further deterrent Louisa keeps her windows, which overlook a large block of flats, uncurtained, and arranges the electric lights in such a way that, once on, they can only be switched off at the main. Her success is astounding, but one’s doubts about the morality of her deceptions are reinforced by the pleasantness of her proteges, who hardly seem to deserve her cold treatment. How does she make out with Rex? Read on and see.