BOOKS and AUTHORS

Dominion, Volume 23, Issue 80, 28 December 1929, Page 26

BOOKS and AUTHORS

A Weekly Survey

BOOKS OF THE DAY Travels and Reflections. The Kt. Hon. Noel Buxton, M.l\, author of “Travels and Reflections’ (Allen and Unwin) has long been prominent as an authority and writer on the Balkan States and their government. In his latest book he describes his experiences in Kurdistan, and in several of the Balkan States, including Rumania, where he narrowly escaped assassination on one occasion, in Armenia and Persia. Included in the book are articles on “Mountaineering in Japan,” where he visited Fujijama two years after the earthquake, and a winter trip through the African Sahara. Mr. Buxton is frankly no believer in the honesty of the Young Turk Party,, holding that their much praised policy of Reform and good government of the Armenians is largely a sham, and holding clearly that Western Europe and America should not be deluded by the Turkish and Persian pretences of better and more honest administration. Mr. Buxton is particularly informative concerning the present state of the Armenians, who, on every side, are plundered and unjustly treated, the Kurd especially benliting. He describes an interview with the Turkish Vali, who, though apparently anxious to convey a good impression—for English consumption —respecting the treatment of the Armenians let not a few “cats out of the'bag.” Thus Mr. Buxton : — But the anti-Armenlan policy did not stop here. To defend themselves against Kurds, rifles had been distribute®; even among certain Armenian villages, two or three to each. This was a notable relaxation, In a ostensible form, of the policy by which one race has been artificially held in bondage to another. But the Vali omitted to mention that several thousand rifles, of a much newer pattern, had at the same time been distributed to the Kurds. Although repression of brigands was. In favour, it must not be undertaken by Armenians, and the Vali was very displeased with the latter for joining in the repression of Kurdish crime. They had killed a wellknown bully of the same type as those pursued bv the authorities, but as a result, twenty ’Armenian villagers were under lock and key. In Persia Mr. Buxton met the Persian Governor. Shujah, but this man be frankly calls a despot. “He wanted to know,” says Mr. Boxton, “what, the English people thought of Persia.” I remembered one of the ugly deeds that attracted British attention to Persia—the hanging of the Chief Mullah in Tabiz, but I refrained —it- was the Shujah himself who hanged the Mullah 1 Parliamentary government in Persia was scarcely a success, for the encouragement of the trade in vice by the Teheran police (with a view to levying blackmail) was a feature. .A Governor who had grown rich by seizing Persian girls and selling to Tartar chiefs, across the Russiah border. was impeached, but his “trial” ended in laughter. Now, however, that Persia is a member of the-League of Nations, foreign influence bn the side of better administration may be looked for. The illustrations to Mr. Buxton’s book; much of whose contents has appeared in the English reviews, are well chosen, and the book, although some of the matter is rather stale, is decidedly interesting. (13/6).

Aldous Huxley’s Essays. Mr. Aldous Huxley’s essays have of late tended to become less purely literary and to deal.more with economics and ethics. Thus, in “Do What You Will ” (Chatto and Wind us), essays on Baudelaire, Swift, and Wordsworth in the Tropics,” are jostled by thoughtful, purely suggestive discourses, headed “One and Many,” “Silence is Golden,” “Fashions in Love,” “Resolutions,” and ' others, which deal incidentally with leading political and economic problems of .the .day. As is usual, however, the essayist employs figures and phraseology not always in accord with what is accepted as good taste in decent society. Mr. Huxley 7 has apparently no time for any sectarian belief, but he has a greater horror of the modern rage for mechanical devices than even religious faith. The trouble lies in the increased population, for which machinery, by increasing production, must be held responsible. Mr. Huxley i;> we are afraid, a confirmed pessimist. Politicians will, we fear, differ from him when he contends “there is absolutely no right kind of government . . ■ even the Divine rights of parliamentarism and political democracy can now be questioned with impunity. Ever since the world was made safe for it democracy has steadily been losing Its prestige.” There is a good deal of truth in this, but when he says that “the modern Good Citizen, who’ is nothing more than a Good Citizen, is less than human, an imbecile or a lunatic—dangerous to himself and to the society in which he lives,” and that the vital problem of our age is the problem of reconciling manhood with the citizenship of the modern industrialised state, he is using an argument difficult indeed to follow. Both on Swift and'Baudelaire, especially on the former, Mr. Huxley has much to say which is well worth reading, but here again Mr. Huxley insistent of what according to the conventional Anglo-Saxon notions of good taste, must be ruled out. His essay on “Pascal,” however, though somewhat difficult to follow, is a fine bit of writing. The essay entitled “Paradise,” a satirical sketch of society—mainly feminine —at a Riviera hotel is most amusing, although Mr. Huxley ought to know that the Oxford blast, as in “he that hath ‘yeears to he-ar’ let him hear,” is quite demode nowadays. The Anglican curate is not that kind of imbecile, whatever Mr. Huxley and men of his school of views about the church may imagine. There are several other essays. All, however we may disagree with their conclusions, are well worth reading. (110/6.) Conan Doyle in South Africa!

One may have one’s own opinion about spiritualism, spiritualistic messages, either direct, or per one of those “mediums” which the believer in occult messages always seems to have handy, but there is no gainsaying the fact that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle believes firmly in them. Apart * from this, Sir Arthur’s books are always very readable" and the account dr his recent visit, with his wife and family, to South Africa, “Our African Winter” (John Murray), is a very interesting publication. Sir Arthur visited a large part of the South African Union, during the winter of 1928-1929, travelling not only through a large portion of the Cape Colony, but North and South Rhodesia, Kenya, Ugando and Tanganyika, making his way back to Europe via Mombasa and the Suez route, via Port Said and Cairo. His main purpose was the delivery of a series of lectures, under the auspices of a South African lecture dgeucy, on pyschic phenomena, research, and exposition, but he has pronounced opinions upon and many of the economic and political questions he found engaging the public mind in the various States be visited. Ho and his family had also.many personal adventures which Sir, Conan sate

Give a nian a pipe he can *moke, Give a man a book he can read-. And his home is bright with a calm delight Though the room be poor indeed. —James Thomson.

forth and comments upon very sensibly. The result is a book of travel which is most interesting to all readers, especially those who seek for information on the relations between the Dutch and English settlers. (10/-.) Carlyle’s “French Revolution.” Messrs. J. M. Dent and Sons, the publishers of a new edition of Carlyle’s “h'rench Revolution ; a History," were specially happy in their selection of Mr. Hilaire Belloc to write the introduction. For Mr. Belloc has so steeped himself in French history, in particular that of the Revolutionary period, has been so successful in his portraiture of Danton, Mirabeau, and other eminent men of that epoch that he is specially well equipped to deal with Carlyle’s greatest historical effort —his history of the Revolution. As Mr. Belloc says, Carlyle is specially successful in “his portraiture of French violence and of French ferocity. . . . It was his sheercreative power which enabled him to project upon his screen, the actualities of which’ he had read, and there is perhaps no other English writer who has done it, so alien is violence to our national character and so utterly removed from our national experience?’ It did for him what the story of Napoleon did for Victor Hugo—it' “blew the creative gale”—le souffle createur. . . . He was inspired. The enormity of the action moved him as the “Marseillaise” can still move the young conscripts upon the march -when they hear it from a distant place, and go forward to the call of it. The Revolution filled him as he proceeded, and war, in a sense, co-author with him, of the shock, the flames, and the roar, the innumerable feet, and the songs which together build up what we read achieved in these volumes.” Mr. Belloc warmly praises Carlyle’s historical accuracy. Michelet, he says, is perhaps a greater man, and “certainly a greater historian, but “in accuracy Carlyle is his superior.” Of the earlier authorities Mr.. Belloc says “Mignet’s little book falls into less errors.” Mr. Beßoc’s personal and sectarian prejudices lead him into a serious depreciation of Taine, of whom he remarks that “he was not even trying to tell the truth,” but that is altogether too severe a judgment upon that author. In the majority of his criticisms, Mr. Belloc is as shrewd as he is frank, and his introduction to these volumes deserves to be carefully read. A special feature of the admirable re-issue is the series of fine photogravures from portraits of eminent men reproductions of old prints in the Carnavalet and Versailles Museums, and drawings by Mr. G. E. Chambers, whose pen and ink architecttural and other illustrations to Messrs. Dent’s “Montaigne” in the same series were so much admired, Air. . Chambers’s drawings of the famous Oeil de Boueuf” at Versailles, of the Church of St. Eustache, and of the House of Dr. Guillotin in the Rue de I’Ancienne Comedie are specially good. .. There is an interesting facsimile of a contemporary drawing of the old Place de Greve, and fine photogravures of several of the leading actors, Marat Mirabeau, and the royalties referred to in the book, like all Messrs. Dent’s reprints, this is decidedly attractive, in its format, and at the price, 10/- a volume. SOME RECENT FICTION A Useless “I'oung Man.” Mr. Stephen Potter’s “The Young Man” (Jonathan Cape) has for the chief figure an “Oxfordy”—the adjective is the author’s—young man, who gains bis living in London as a lecturer on English literature. David Voce has tile faculty of making friends, but never seems to succeed in “getting anywhere.” He has a small host of peasant acquaintances, including Lydia, whom he marries, but we leave him at the close of a seaside holiday.' determining he “will go right through Dostoerisky,” a volume of one of whose earlier works he had thrown out of the window. One reads a novel such as this and may be pardoned for asking why such literature should be written at all. It discloses a life comparatively useless, and gives one but a poor notion of the young Englishman of to-day. Fortunately all'young Englishmen are nob of the ultra-self-conscious David Voce stamp. Medusa.

Mr. E. H. Visiak, author of “Medusa,” a story of mystery, and eustacy, and strange horror (Gollancz), may be credited with the possession of rare powers of imagination. The story pui'ports to have been taken from the family papers of Will Hayvel, of Portishead, who accompanies on a voyage, in search of a long-lost son, a neighbouring farmer named Mr. Huxtable. Early in the story we make acquaintance'with a drunken, but shrewd-wlt-ted old sailor named Obadiah Moon, a character worthy of a place beside Stevenson’s Long John Silver, who is a prominent figure in the narrative. The ship makes her way to the Brazils, and later on cruises about in the southern seas, where all sorts of, and sometimes horrifying, adventures await the curiously-assorted crew, including experiences with some monsters which exercise a hideous fascination upon them, resulting, in two or three cases, in death. The ship, we are led to believe is discovered by another vessel, but not before poor Mr. Huxtable dies. Mr. Visiak’s imagination is rich, but he asks us to believe almost too much. One Hears a Drum.

Alan Baddeley, the author of “One Hears a Drum” (Chatto & Windus) is specially qualified to write a novel dealing with naval life for, born in 1884, the son of the late Sir John Baddeley, Lord Mayor of Loudon, 1921-1922, he served for fourteen years in the Royal Navy, rising to command of destroyers. During the War he served in the Mercantile Marine and the Royal Canadian Navy. Mr. Baddeley tells the story of young Newland’s experiences, a cadet on board the Britannia, giving a lively description of an English lad who had for father a naval officer. Each stage of the lad’s career previous to his appointment to the Sceptic is described, and it is difficult to conceive of a book on naval life which will afford better reading. For the Young Folk.

By

A very popular gift book for the Christmas season should be “The Christopher Robin Story Book.” by A. A. Milne (Methuen). This delightful book contains Mr. Mllne'4 <w?n salao

“Liber”

tion of the best stories and verses from the famous children’s books, “When We Were Very Young,” and its three succesors, in which Winnie the Pooh was introduced. All the stories and verses are illustrated by Mr. Ed Shephard, and there is also included one of the author’s charming introductions.— (6/6.) Another very delightful and wonderfully cheap Christmas gift for youthful readers is the Everyman Library edition, in one volume, of Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland,” and the stories which succeeded it. The original pictures by Tenuiel are reproduced. The Everyman Lewis Carroll should be in great demand during the coming gift season. Novels Received.

From Cassell and Co.—“ The Reluctant Madonna,” by Marguerite Steen: Deals with the passionate devotion of a' sou. Lord Malstrom, to his mother, the Countess of Barminsfer and the attachment of mother and son to each other. The ideals of both come to grief, each passing through an agony of experience. A good deal concerned with the “cocktail society” of the younger set. From Hurst and Blackitt, “Stained Glass,” by H. M. E. Camp. Chelsea artistic circles mainly with a Slavfaced heroine, Telka, who does beautiful work in enamel. The final scenes take place on the Nile. From Jarrold’s, “Who Are You,” by Henrietta Leslie. Thea Stanley, brought up in a pleasure-seeking West End circle, makes acquaintance with ideals hitherto foreign to her environment. Her romance with Walter Hamilton, a democratic journalist and Labour leader.

From Herbert Jenkins ■ Ltd.: ‘‘The Vagabond Lover,” by Donald Sinderby. An amusing story of a walking tour through Kent, wherein our old friend Dogsbody and his brother, a naval officer, endeavour to escape from Dogsbody’s mother-in-law, Mrs. Buf-fington-Fizzly. By Hugh Walpole.

It is not given to .many novelists to make a success of a novelist hero, but Mr. Hugh Walpole, the author of “Hans Frost” (Macmillan), has in his last story created a real and most attractive character. Hans Frost is a popular English novelist with a long list of fictional successes to his credit. We are introduced to him receiving the congratulations of a host of leading writers of'the day on his 70th birthday, when he is presented with a fine painting by . Manet in honour of the occasion. Hans is a well-to-do man whose wife, much younger than himself, is very proud of her husband and his position in English letters and does every thing she can to secure his comfort In fact, her anxiety to spare him any trouble, to maintain’him in a position of aloofness, ends by becoming rather a bore. . A young relative, a very nice girl, comes to stay with the Frosts. She fairly worships the novelist, thereby evoking the jealousy of the wife and her mother the lattei a really venenidus old cat—and gradually there is a rift in the lute, made worse by Han’s sympathy with the girl, who falls in love with a young

Russian. The wife misunderstands the position and is not over-truthful when referring to the girl, who suddenly leaves the house. She is followed to Cornwall by Frost, who is relieved to get away from the atmosphere of flattery and then abuse by which be had been surrounded, and the novel ends by his commencing a new novel — and a new life. Nathalie will marry her Russian and the more the wife leaves Hans a free man, both socially and in the literary world he loves, the better for both of them. The fine ironic flavour about Mr. Walpole’s humour was never displayed to greater advantage than in “Hans Frost.” “The Death of a Hero.”

Mr Richard Aldington’s novel, “The Death of a Hero” (Chatto and Windus), is a long story of over 400 pages and is devoted to a study of English middle-class society during the war. Granted that the war was responsible in many instances for gross selfishness, one is loth to believe that the finer elements in human character were so seldom exhibited as Mr. Aldington would have us think, and his prologue, which gives away the plot, if one can call it such, seems to me not only ill-na.-tured but very unfair. The_ story would have been better had it been published in two separate parts. The education and upbringing of George Winterbourne, his marriage and the relations between himself and other women, and those of his wife and his mistress with other men were all in themselves quite enough to form one book. The war scenes, never more powerfully and grimly depicted in an English novel,were quite varied and sensational enough to form a book in themselves. One rises from the book admiring no doubt the literary talent which it expresses, but on the whole with the fixed idea that the author has ' painted. English middle-class society in too crudelv violent colours. To ask ns to believe that Winterbourne’s wife would have received the War Office news of his death so callously and that her attitude of pure selffishness was that of the majority of English people whose men died at the front is too much to expect from us.; To the author the death of George Winterbourne is a symbol, an atonement, a desperate attempt to wipe out “the blood guiltiness/’ That “blood guiltiness is stub according to Richard Aldington, poisoning our souls.” Perhaps in his earlier social life George Winterbourne was far from being a “hero? But we refuse to believe that such deaths could have been or actually were regarded as Elizabeth and Fanny regarded them. If they did then were these women grossly unrepresentative of the Englishwomen of the war period. “The Death of a Hero” is a clever but grossly ill-natured and unfair picture to be accepted as in any way near the truth. Mr. Aldington has been impressed by recent German war novels. They make dreary reading, and we see no reason why they rtjould be paralleled by similar literature frdm an English poet-novelist.