SOME NEW NOVELS

Press, Volume CXIII, Issue 33189, 31 March 1973, Page 10

SOME NEW NOVELS

Shadow Game. By Laurence Eben. Michael Joseph. 192 pp. The sexual involvement of two men, one black, the other white, living in South Africa, is a somewhat distasteful subject, as much on aesthetic grounds as those of racism—the more so in that the author dwells undulv upon the details of the liaison. Ray Starle. a P.R.O. in industry, has, from the age of puberty, sought but black boys among his parents’ servants for sexual experiment, and when he meets the intelligent and strikingly handsome Victor Butele he falls madly in love, and entices the somewhat reluctant black radio announcer to take up residence with him. For a long time, by means of cunning devices, the two men manage to keep their secret, but it is bound to come out, and to end in tragedy. The story is a most telling indictment of apartheid, but would gain in plausibility if the white anti-hero were emotionally better balanced, and his obsession with lovers of his own sex—especially black men—were not made to appear a comman feature of daily life in his country at all levels. Yet, leaving aside the drearily commonplace subject of homosexuality, the author underlines the deliberate degradation of black South Africans by such legislation as the pass laws, and the enforced segregation which forbids a communal use of lifts and hotel entrances. A consciously liberal element in the Establishment permits the colours to mix in such cultural pursuits as certain theatrical productions, but this concession does not ameliorate the lot of those black people who take part in them. Four letter words are liberally sprinkled throughout the book, and are chiefly notable for their complete irrelevance to any subject into which they are introduced. Limbo. By Joan Silver and Linda Gottlieb. Heinemann. 181 pp. This book has.been published at an appropriate moment, for it is the story of the next-of-kin of certain American solidiers or airmen listed as “missing” in Vietnam. Especially, it concerns three bomber-pilots, all of whom had been detailed to destroy enemy property in such a massive way that many innocent lives must have been presumed lost as a result. Sandy Law ton had been married just a fortnight, when her husband, Roy, had received orders to go to Vietnam, and for two unhappy, aimless years hears nothing of his fate. Mary K. Buell, mother of four children, knows that her husband is a prisoner, and is allowed briefly to communicate with him at intervals. Sharon Dornbeck is one of those gifts to American propaganda—a beautiful woman, believing implicity in the virtues of the Establishment and the rightness of America’s participation in the war—who is convinced that her husband is alive, and will one day return to her from North Vietnam. Every chapter heading is an exact transcription of official exhortations to next-of-kin of missing officers on a number of vital subjects. The need for secrecy in not discussing their situation outside the family circle is stressed and the recipients are invariably assured that every official effort is being made to trace the fate of the missing men. In due course Sandy receives a letter from Roy, but by that time grief, frustration and the promptings of nature have induced her to take a lover. It is, then, a grim joke that Roy should be one of three prisoners released by a caprice of the North Vietnamese Government for their own inscrutable purposes. The authors are partners in a film company, and the book was designed to serve a cinematic purpose. Though obvious comment on the situation is withheld, readers are made to realise the agonising suspense inflicted upon wives and mothers by a Communist tactic in this least humane of wars; while a certain redness of face is inevitable for those compilers of official directives which read so well—and obviously mean so little. Summer Coming. By Jane Gaskill. Hodder and Stoughton. 159 pp. The unnamed narrator of this small but disturbing novel has a slightly

deformed leg and as a result a more seriously deformed mind. Convinced that because she is crippled, the world, or at least all those inhabitants of it in contact with her, should give her their first consideration, she moves through life like a limping hurricane, leaving desolation in her wake. She is determined to win back her ex-husband. Timon, a publisher, and even begins writing a novel to attract his attention. Sacrificed to this ambition are her two shadowy children, her step-mother Sarah and her large and amiable cousm Digory. A series of alarms and excursions with the various men in her life are vividly recorded in her rather sporadically kept diary. Some of the incidents are pathetic, some infuriating and some hilarious (most notably the last set scene in the book when her explorer father returns to find the house awash). In all of them, the reader is manipulated by the author into some reaction to her heroine—one of pity, dislike or anger. Though the novel is short there is quite a feeling of relief as one reaches the end and is set free of her self-pity and selfcentredness when she, Digory and assorted extras drive off into the dark ness, bound for Wales. Jane Gaskell has published several earlier novels al! of which show the same crisp style and sharp analytical characterisation which distinguish “Summer Coming”. The Haunted Mountain. By Mollie Hunter. Hamish Hamilton. 127 pp. This slim volume takes only an hour or so to read but it is an hour well spent, and one in which the reader of ’’The Haunted Mountain” will experience many emotions. Mollie Hunter, well-known for her Scottish historical novels has, in this book, stepped further back into the fascinating past of that country to a time when the “sidhe” or “good people” were feared and placated by all sensible folk. Mac Allister was one fanner who dared to defy the fairy people and stubbornly and cleverly outwitted them. In the end however he was captured and chained to the summit of Ben MacDui, the mountain guarded then, and haunted since by An Ferla Mor, the great grey giant. How his wile Peigi-Ann kept faith, his son Fergus rescued him, and his loyal hound Colm sacrificed himself makes an exciting and moving store It is a story one hesitates to designate as one for children. The power of darkness striving to overcome one man’s strength of will and of love make this story of “one man’s defiance for all men” one which should appeal io readers of all ages. A Bloody Field by Shrewsbury. By Edith Pargeter. Macmillan. 412 pp. Author of some 18 novels, as well as translations, a travel book and a volume of short stories, Edith Pargeter has, in “A Bloody Field by Shrewsbury,” taken as her subject the troubled reign of Henry IV, and as her hero Lord Henry Percy, the famous Harry Hotspur, who lost his life in 1403, at the Battle of Shrewsbury. As presented here. Hotspur is a veritable “beau ideal” of medieval chivalry, a knight “sans peur et sans reproche.” The view is an idealised one, no doubt, but it accords well enough with the somewhat romantic vision Miss Pargeter has of the age. and with the rather too-woman’s-magazine loveinterest, involving Hotspur (but only chastely) and Julian Parry, the beautiful and fiery daughter of the Welsh merchant, Rhodri Parry. Because the love-interest is weak, both Hotspur and Julian suffer. But Miss Pargeter’s handling of the two other Henrys in her tale, Henry IV and his son Henry, Prince of Wales, is subtle and convincing. Her reading of the tortured personality of the King is particularly good, for it engenders pity and understanding without in any way diminishing his guilt. The narrative is vigorous and clear, while the descriptive element is generally evocative. For the reader who likes his history colourful, and does not object to a somewhat romanticised hero, the novel will certainly appeal.