BOOKS and AUTHORS

Dominion, Volume 22, Issue 180, 27 April 1929, Page 31

BOOKS and AUTHORS

A Weekly Survey

By

“Liber”

Give a man a pipe he can smoke. Give a man a book he can read: And his home is bright with a calm delight Though the room be poor indeed.

BOOKS OF THE DAY “Jungle Paths and Inca Ruins.” Dr. William Montgomery Govern, the author of “Jungle Paths and Inca Ruins” (Duckworth), is an Oxford scientist »of reputation, and already, by that fine book of travel, “To Lhasa in Disguise,” has proved himself a most observant as he is n daring explorer of little-known regions of the earth. At present occupying the position of assistant curator of South American ethnology at the famous Field Museum, he headed in 1925 an expedition which set out to explore the waters of the upper Amazon and many hitherto unexplored regions of Peru. He gives many interesting descriptions of the human, animal, and bird life of the Brazilian forests, often so difficult of penetration that the task of the traveller is almost impossible, for a time living the life of the Indians, eating ants and caterpillars,, and submitting himself, with a view to initiation into native tribes, to inconveniences and discomforts none to the taste of the European. He was, however, fortunate enough to be able to escape that severe test of the neophyte, submission to the disagreeable ceremony of flogging, when admitted to blood-membership of the Jurnpari tribe, but there were times when his ardour for scientific research must have been in danger of extinction. As an ethnologist and anthropologist he seems to have gleaned a vast amount of new or unrecorded information, and the geographical knowledge gained of the country at the head of the Amazon must have much commercial value. The description of Inca ruins, evidences of a vast extinct civilisation, is decidedly fresh and enlightening, and it is to be noted that he was much impressed with the very sound progress made of recent years by Peru under its President, Senor Ligui. On the Piro Parana he came across “a land of naked women,” the men of this tribe wearing a loin cloth and a long black wooden skewer through their noses, and ’ a feather-tufted bone through the lobe of. each ear. The ladies, however, went abroad in a perfect state of nature, “except for a pair of beautifully woven garters.” Mr. M. Govern records his impression that it would seem that “the less clothes women wear, the more highly proper and reserved is their conduct.” The illustrations, reproduced from photographs taken by a camera expert who accompanied the author, are many and often very curious. (215.)

The Story of a Dog. There is always a good reading public for stories of dogs and dog life, and “The Cry of the Wild, the Story of the Heart of a Dog,” by Joe Mills (Hutchinson and Co.), should not be overlooked. The scene is laid in the Yosemite country, the story being that of an heroic collie who struggles between her loyalty to a human master and her love for a primitive mate. She is irresistibly drawn back among her natural ancestors, the wolves. How, under the conflicting influences of her wolf mate, and the love for her human master, she plays out her life story, is told with great dramatic power, although some readers may be pardoned for thinking that the author reads too much psychology into his interpretation of the canine character. Mr. Horace L. Hastings contributes some excellent black and white illustrations. (10s.)

The Outward Bound Library. To Messrs. Dent and Sons’ “Outward Bound Library,” edited by Ashley Clinton, to earlier issues of which detailed reference has been made in this column, have been added two really excellent titles, “The Malay Peninsula and the Archipelago,” by the editor, with wood-cuts by Barbara Shaw; and a gossippy and usefully informative handbook by Gladys Peto, on “The Egypt of the Sojourner,” with illustrations by the author. The volume on Malaya should greatly interest New Zealanders who contemplate making an Eastern trip. Mr. Gibson’s account of the islands of the Malay Archipelago is very lively, the editor touching on visits to several islands rarely described in books read by the tourist. It is difficult to conceive of a more useful handbook to the islands. Miss Gladys Peto is very happy in her description of Cairo, Alexandria, and other Egyptian tourist haunts. (7s. each.) LIBER’S NOTE-BOOK Mr. Smith, better known to readers as Trader Horn, was in Auckland the other day on his way from Australia to England, via America. He only spent a few hours in Melbourne, through which he passed on Eight Hours Day. According to the “Australasian” he was about to enter a hansom cab (a form of conveyance which he chose deliberately), when he was hailed by an inebriated man. He returned the greeting with a twinkle in his eve. “Tin not working just now, but I’m a gravedigger,” the man announced blandly. “Coud you find me 10 steady men, then?” retorted Mr. Horn. The man regarded him dubiously. "I might get a couple for you,” he answered. ‘ Its all right,” returned Mr. Horn, climbing into the cab, “I thought that since you were n gravedigger you would be the best person

—James Thomson.

to apply to for steady men; they're hard to find outside a cemetery.” “Aloysius Horn,” by the way, must have done very well out of his first two books, although, to tell the truth, I thought the second showed a terrible falling away from the first. His new book is due to appear in London 'in June next, and is to be called Old Zanzibar.” Good old Baron Tauchnitz set the fashion of cheap German reprints of well-known English books. In the old days I can well remember the Customs authorities stopping cheap Tauchnitz editions of some of Ruskin’s then copyright works. Nowadays, they say, you can get a complete Bernard Shaw, in a Tauchnitz binding, at eighteenpence a volume, but here they would coit you from 7s. 6d. to 10s. a volume. Apropos of I read that the convocation of the University of Dublin has rejected, a proposal to award an honorary degree to him in recognition of his contributions to dramatic literature. Anyhow, I don’t suppose G.B.S. cares tuppence about an honorary Dublin doctorate. He makes quite enough money out of England, where he has lived for years, and which he has never failed to misrepresen and abuse. Here is a sample of American book reviewing: “Believe it or not. Mr. Riddell’s book is a wow. No other supposedly san zany has wowed so many Big Business Men of Letters and lived—within machine-gun range. “Meaning No Offense” is a cellar book. No one who lives life enough to want to go on living would be mad enough to risk carrying it about in the open; the risk of being mistaken for the author would be too great. Take Fannie Hurst, take Sinclair Lewis, take Hemingway, take Trader Horn, take Thornton Wilder, take two dollars and go and get this book if you suffer from optimism, pessimism, ms temper, night clubs, or a distaste for brocoli. But be sure to have it wrapped in a plain paper package, unless you want to suffer the consequences of being mistaken by Fannie Hurst, Sinclair Lewis, Hemingway, Trader Horn, or William Beebe for John Riddell. Exactly what is a “wow” it would be interesting to know. “Wow,” I suppose, is the latest fashionable Americanism in literary classification. SOME RECENT FICTION Art and Love. Those who recall with pleasure reading Mr. Charles Morgan’s “Thy Name is Legion” four or five years ago, will turn with anticipation of renewed pleasure to his quite recently published novel, “Portrait in a Mirror” (Macmillan and Co.). It is a story in which an artistic and a love Interest are cleverly commingled. Told by an old man who from his youth is devoted to art, it recounts the story of his youthful love for Clare Sebright, in whom he finds the symbol of all the gods had so long been whispering. Worldly considerations forbid her answering his passionate call, but her presence and the memory of his love dominate his life, although he has to learn what at first had been quite spiritual, had in time largely been overridden by material, earthly influences. The special chartn of the story lies in the consummate beauty of its style, and those who appreciate the truly artistic spirit will be greatly interested. That Mr. Morgan can, if he likes, tear himself away from strictly artistic matters, is shown in the chapter, in which he tells of the Hornets’ Cricket Week at Windrush. There is also some very fine incidental characterisation in the novel. Henry Fullaton, the successful mid-Victorian artist, whose whole career leads him to distrust, as he fails to understand, Nigel’s artistic leanings and tastes, but whose innate good-heartedness makes him ever Nigel’s well-wisher, is a cleverly drawn portrait, and Pug Trobey—with his memorable catch at Windrush, and Ethel, the hero’s sister; will surely not be forgotten. Not, perhaps, a novel for the multitude, but a joy exceeding to the lover of verbal beauty and marked distinction of style. Orlando.

Mrs. Virginia Woolf's “Orlando, a Biography” (The Hogarth Press) may be the work of a lady writer who has already a big following at Home, and is one of the most discussed of latterday lady writers. Honestly, however, I confess to having failed to find this bi-sexual biography aught but baffling. Apparently Mrs. Woolf w’ould have us believe that Orlando is a real personage, and in her preface gives an astoundingly long list of notable personages, from Defoe, Scott, De Quincey, down to such latter-day literary notables as Mr. Augustus Birrell, Mr. Hugh Walpole, Mr. Lytton Strachey and Viscountess Cecil, who, according to the author, nominally support her claim to credibility. But she asks us to believe, amongst other things difficult of acceptance, that Orlando, who lived in the times of Queen Bess, and who was her Ambassador to Constantinople, and, who having diversified his official duties by numerous amours at different courts with the beauties of bis time, fell, when thirty-five, in a sort of prolonged trance, during which he is transformed into a beautiful womafi, with male strength but possessed of every female grace. Furthermore, that she was living in 1927, alleged portraits of her being given. Mrs. Woolf gives u; a two-page account of the transformation or metamorphosis,

insisting upon the alleged fact of there being no death. Frankly “Liber” cannot accept even the dominant idea of the story, but this much he at once admits, that the author has a quaintly beautiful style, which is not often met with.

The Orange Court. “The Orange Girl,” by Lily Anne Coppard (Jonathan Cape), is a very charmingly told story of a young Englishwoman’s sentimental experiences.on the Italian Riviera, the author being the wife of the Mr. A. E. Coppard who has gained such a wide reputation as the teller of short, stories of exceptional grace and originality. Mrs. Coppard’s heroine, Pauline Branch, jilted by her English lover, takes refuge at Santo Maurizio, on the Italian Riviera, and soon finds forgetfulness amid her new surroundings. Acquaintance with an Italian circle of friends brings one new lover after another, her suitors proving themselves very original and delightful people, amid whom the task of choice is by no means easy. The young Englishwoman’s experiences while studying Italian, her gradual initiation into Italian manners and customs, are variegated by Italian feminine jealousy, but for the main part Pauline has a very pleasant time of it in Naples and Venice, and the end of the story, which will give the English reader a very agreeable Insight into Italian family life, is such as should please all lovers of the sensibly sentimental. By the Author of “The Six Proud Walkers.” A few months ago it was the pleasant duty of this writer to warmly commend, as a thriller of outstanding originality and literary merit, Mr. Francis Beeding’s “Six Proud Walkers.” In his new story, “Pretty Sinister” (Hodder and Stoughton), Mr. Beediug gives us a successor to his earlier tale. He now invites us to follow the adventures of a young Russian lady of considerable wealth, who is kidnapped away to a wild country house in Scotland where she is kept in a half-hypnotised state by a rascally physician who is working in with a cosmopolitan gang of scoundrels, the chief amongst whom is a singularly able man who, for quite another reason, is being pursued by a Major Granby, who, assisted by a secret service spy named Merrill, is bent upon releasing the Russian lady from those who would torture and rob her. The result is all are soon engaged in a bewildering whirlpool of adventures, the excitement culminating at the Scots castle in a perfect orgy of fascinating I adventure. Mr. Seeding has all his work cut out to bring order out of the I cunningly concocted chaos he has 'imagined, but as hi “The Six Proud Walkers” he succeeds in thwarting the ingeniously laid plans of the rascals and in allowing true love to vanquish some very ingenious villainy. A Parisian in Norway.

Whether the witty, satirical story, “Jerome, or the Latitude of Love,” really warranted the judges of the Prix Goncourt, in awarding him the annual prize of 5000 francs for the most original book by a young French writer, is doubtful but, despite not a few passages which are scarcely in accordance with British taste, the story of a young Parisian playwright’s amatory adventures in Norway where his Gallic gallantry fails before the devastating simplicity of Norwegian women, makes uncommonly humorous reading. The Norway of the hardened boulevardier’s imagination he finds no longer exists. The modern Norway and its up-to-date ladies, the daring of whose amatory experiences surpasses aught that even a Parisan had expected, affords the worthy Jerome some sharp surprises; but I must not go into details or Mrs. Grundy would have something to say on the matter.

Sheila Kaye Smith. Sheila Kaye Smith, by her earlier novels at least, earned the name of the Thomas Hardy of Sussex. Her “Village Doctor” (Cassell) is. as to plot, somewhat thin and unsatisfying, but several of the rustic characters, notably old Bottome, the doctor’s servant, and most of the Sussex bucolics with whom, over social customs and the, to him, all important village drainage question, he so differs, are as sharply etched and real people as their fellows in the Wessex “Far from the Madding Crowd.” Laura Braize the village beauty who, for social reasons, sets her cap at the doctor and

marries him, although Saul Peascod made greater appeal to her. is well drawn, and the way the doctor is practically absorbed by village interests is well described. But once Laura, married but disappointed at her husband’s preference of professional honour to worldly success, weakly succumbs to Peascod’s fascination, I doubt whether the doctor would have accepted her repentance and alleged change of soul, and I question the future happiness of the pair. But the rustic scenes are capital.