BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

Evening Star, Issue 22893, 26 February 1938, Page 21

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

A LITERARY CORNER

ing research necessary in order to be accurate in every detail, especially in novels with a foreign setting, such as Miss Bridge herseli writes. We realised then that a novelist’s life entails much more than just sitting at a desk or typewriter. “ But now,” the speaker concluded, “ I have solved my difficulties. No longer do I spend - days and weeks in searching for all the information- I desire. I just telephone Selfridge’s Information Bureau, tell them what I want to know, and shortly I receive pages and pages of beautifully typewritten material on any subject whatever.” Another writer we were anxious to hear was Aldcms Huxley, but, alas, his talk was so popular that wei were unable to get into the hall. However, we did manage to hear Peter Fleming, intrepid traveller and author of ‘Brazilian Adventure’ and ‘News Prom Tartary.’ He was introduced •by Lord Birkenhead, a former schoolmate, in a fluent and humorous style. Indeed, he was a better speaker than Peter Fleming himself, who was very boyish and almost bashful, we thought —hut one could not fail to like him. His subject was ‘ Travelling Light,’ and he gave a brief account of his journey across China. ( All the perils and hardships were touched on in a very offhand manner, even the occasion when the speaker became an unwitting and unwilling participant in _ a Chinese battle. He seemed more like a schoolboy telling of his pranks than a world traveller recounting hair’s-hreadth escapes. In spite of all the discomforts and dangers, he was ready to set out again at a moment’s notice—- “ travelling light. Another interesting daily event in the same hajl was the screening of a film entitled ‘ Chapter and Verse.’ This showed all the stages in the making of a book, and John Masefield appeared in the picture. Of course, the book talks were only one part of the exhibition. Space permits only a brief mention of the Library of Living Books, where stands of hooks on every conceivable subject, from cookery to philosophy, were presided over by experts, or of the delightful room of children’s books, where one’s orfly desire was to become S child again.

Then there was the corner containing relics of famous writers, among them Kipling’s ink-stand. Hardy’s watch, and Byron’s shirt, white and heniffled. Glass cases contained all the known illustrated editions of ‘The Vicar'of Wakefield,’ from,, the first crude copies to the latest superbly-produced volumes. This was a fascinating exhibit, over which we could have spent hours.

Even after three visits to the ‘ Sunday Times ’ book exhibition w© felt that ,we had only begun to exploi-e its wealth of literature. But we cherish the hop© that some day and somehow we shall once more spend some of London’s chill November days in becoming better acquainted with famous and familiar, folk.

VERSES

AFTERWARDS The pageantry is done, the crowd departs, The streets are emptied now of noise and throng j But still the memory lingers in our , hearts Of those brave souls who to the past belong. Theirs was the labour—burs the recompense, They blazed the trail across the bygone years; To them we give our grateful rever.ence, For steadfast hearts and true—our pioneers! May we, like them, our country’s burdens share, Nor fail to play our part as man to man ; Still in our hearts their touch of courage, bear, And for our sons a mightier nation plan. —Ethel M. Francis, in ‘ Sydney Morning Herald.’'

THE FIDDLER OF CONNAUGHT

In that • crazy and beautiful country God made when the moon was bright, I tramped with a dead man’s fiddle and played it by day and by night •To the old and the young and the reckless in the counties of Galway and Clare, 'And 1 was drunk with the dancing and the taste of the sea in the air. 0 I was a ragged merchant with all the old tunes to sell, And I cared not a fig for the favour's or ; the frowns of Heaven or Hell, And I dozed at the side of my fiddle >when the moon rose out of the sea And-1 dreamed of the other old fiddlers who were ten times as merry as me.

—ldris Davies, in ‘ John o’ London’s Weekly,’

GLIMPSES OF THE FAMOUS

MEMORIES OF DORIAND HALL [Written by P.A.D. for the ‘Evening Star.’] Reading last week of Borland Hall, and the fifth annual book exhibition , held there by the ‘ Sunday Times,’ memories were aroused of visits to the fourth exhibition, and the thrill of seeing some famous writers in the flesh. A small hall was reserved' for the daily book talks, and unless one was there at least an hour before’ the scheduled time it was impossible to secure a seat, or even standing room. On the afternoon that Cecil Roberts was to speak we just managed to find a place at the very back of the hall. We had long been admirers of Cecil Roberts, but our imaginary picture of him was very different from the real man whom we sajv on the stage. A plain, bald little;man; rather dried-up in appearance, yet anything but-dry in his matter and manner. He began, indeed, by apologising- for his books. “I know,” he said, “that it isn’t very pleasant for yon all to have to sit there and look at me. lam begin- . uing to think that nowadays a perfect profile is more important, to an author than a perfect prose style.” The title of the talk was ‘ Living and Writing,’ a serious subject which became, under Cecil Roberts’s treatment, as airy ah thistledown. Everyone sat spellbound by his flow of nonsensical eloquence. This was the Cecil . Roberts of ‘ Gone Rustic ’ and ‘ Gone Rambling,’ not the creator, surely, of ‘ Spears Against TJs ’ or ‘ Pilgrim Cottage.’ Only once did he make a really serious remark: “,You see before you,” he said, earnestly, “ that uncommon—that rare creature—a completely happy man.” And we believed him, though only a moment before we had been laughing at a description of an unlucky author’s desperate attempt to write novels to order. The talk ended with a piece of good advice to aspiring authors—- “ Live first; then write.” After each book talk the speaker appeared at his publisher’s stand, •where he autographed copies of his latest works. The same afternoon Ann Bridge was to speak, so we decided that the onlyway to be certain of hearing her was to remain in our places in the hall. The long interval of time passed- quite rapidly as we watched and discussed our various neighbours, a never-fail-ing entertainment in London. We bad read and enjoyed ‘ Peking Picnic,’ ‘ The _ Ginger Griffin,’ and especially ‘ Illyrian Spring,’ so we looked forward eagerly to seeing and hearing their author. Miss Bridge was introduced by John Brophy, the well-known critic and author, in a laudatory little speech. The adjective most frequently used to describe Ann Bridge’s novels seemed the most appropriate one for the lady herself—she was completely charming. Not very young, not very beautiful—though extremely smart in appearance —she captivated her audience by her winning manner and her delightful voice, as she told us of the many difficulties which arise in attaining ‘ Accuracy in Fiction.’ In one of her novels. Miss Bridge said she once made a comparatively unimportant statement regarding the official status of some member of the diplomatic service. From India came a letter from an indignant reader, protesting against her innccuracy, and offering correction. Several other examples of such occurrences, were followed by. a description of the unend-

NEW BOOKS

LOVE IN THE TROPICS In a glamorous setting of a tropic isle two women, one white and one brown, fight for the love of on© man. That, briefly is the story told in ‘ Flaming Dawn,’ a new novel by Stella Richards from the press of Herbert Jenkins Ltd. The tala is told in an attractive style, which holds the interest of the reader as he follow's the adventures of the various characters. To New Zealand readers there is a familiar ring in tjhe names of the two South Sea islands which figure prominently in the book. Akaroa and Tongariro have apparently been moved several hundred miles from their usual positions, while one of the natives, Hongi, would seem more at home in New Zealand than in the islands. Taken altogether, however, the book is an interesting on© which' holds the attention throughout.

, A STRANGE ADVENTURE

* Gun Cotton in Mexico ’ is the eleventh of the series of adventures of Gunston Cotton, of the British Secret Service: In this story the author, Rupert Grayson, sends his hero to Mexico to investigate allegations concerning a Fascist plot. During the course of his duties Gun Cotton finds himself up against a sinister and physically abnormal man, Don Diego, who has dreams of dominating Mexico and probably setting up a new regime which will not be confined to that country. A series of impossible adventures leads Cotton into an underground world peopled by descendants of the ancient Toltec Indians under the dominion of Don Diego. The Don, whose age is reputed to be over 200, has modern headquarters equipped with radio in this fantastic underground world. The story is not lacking in excitement, and, read purely and simply as a story, is entertaining in its way. Grayson and Grayson are the publishers of the book, our copy of which is from Whitcombe and Tombs.

AN AMUSING STORY

‘ Angel’s Kiss ’ is a pleasant and 'unusual modern novel by Oliver Sandys, ■which traces the careers of Hugh Clitton Standish and 'Betfcy ’B. Blinko, the threads of whose lives are curiously interwoven, from the time of their childhood until they are finally established as doctors in Southampton. After a separation of many years the two meet as doctors, and, unknown to each other, purchase the same practice from the dishonest Dr Diddle. Their experiences while in search of patients are often amusing and always entertaining, and they meet many interesting people. One of them is Dr Light, a Mohammedan doctor, who has achieved the reputation of a worker of miraples, and his influence pervades the latter part of the book. The reader is lead by easy stages to the tense climax which adds an intensely human love story. Hutchinson and Co. are the publishers.

‘ THE DUKE

‘ The Duke ’ is\ from the _ pen of Philip Guedalla. The mere title is a striking tribute to the principal figure in this book. It is not only in Mr Gnedalla’s estimation, but in that of the English-speaking world, that Wellington stands on a plane far above any other individual who has worn the strawberry leaves. Arthur Wellesley was a youth who developed late. His three brothers were all men of mark and eminent scholars, but he was for many years considered the dunce of the family. He went first to school at Chelsea, and then to Eton, distinguishing himself at neither in the path of learning. From Eton he went to a French military school at Angers, in France, for about a year. Ho was not very attentive to his studies, so his report said, and was rather weak in health. Who would have imagined at the time that a great destiny awaited Arthur Wellesley p He never caught the popular fancy as Nelson did. Though cold, austere, and aloof to outward seeming, this was due chiefly to his uncompromising intellectual honesty. In his latest years, when at the call of duty_ he had dropped the sword to govern in the civil sphere, he showed none of the arts of the politician. Mr Guedalla, as was to be expected, has written a striking and valuable book. His historical sense is acute, his knowledge wide as the result of much study and research, and his literary style vivid, witty, and forceful. Wellington served a long apprenticeship for the day when he held the fate or Europe and of his country in his hands. Early in his career he was so disgusted- with the carelessness and indolence of his superior officers in a campaign on the Continent that he applied for civil employment. Fortunately his request was not granted. From then on he was kept in active military employment, and his reputation grew steadily. Six years’ work in India prepared him for his great campaigns on the Peninsula, where his powers were tested against the genius of Napoleon. The highlight of the Duke’s career was Waterloo. Mr Guedalla says: “The Duke, as usual, was everywhere, fighting his line along the ridge as a commander fights his ship in action. He rode Copenhagen (his favourite horse), and all day long the chestnut carried him along the lines of weary men. Each shift of the interminable battle elicited a gruff comment or an order scrawled on a scrap of parchment.” In the face of a charge by the French cavalry he asked the Rifles in his quiet manner to “ drive those fellows away.” The author continues: “The Duke rode slowly back to Waterloo. There was no feeling of elation, and they were all exhausted. Besides, he.had a solemn notion that where so many had fallen close to him he had somehow been preserved by Providence. ‘ The finger of Providence was upon me,’ he wrote that night, ‘ and 1 escaped unhurt.’ Then he sat down to supper. The table had been laid for the usual number, but the staff had suffered cruelly, and there were so many empty places. The Duke, who at© very little, kept looking at the door, and Alava knew that he was watching for the absent faces,- When the meal was over he left them. But as he rose ho lifted both hands, saying: ‘ The hand of God has been over me this day.’ ” Here the greatness of the man is revealed. The victory at Waterloo placed Wellington on a pinnacle or earthly fame, yet so far as can be judged he hardly gave his personal achievement a thought. In his political career that followed he showed the same singt-minded devotion to duty. So high did he stand in the esteem of Queen Victoria that she named one of her sons after him, Arthur, the present Duke of Connaught. The Queen wrote: “ He was the greatest man this country has ever produced, and the most loyal and devoted subject, and the staunchest supporter the Crown ever had.” Queen Victoria looked at Wellington’s life from a personal point of view. Still he was doubt, in character and ability, military and political, a very great man. His work as a statesman has been assailed, but that is the fate of every political leader. As a soldier his reputation rests chiefly on his work on the Peninsula. His long life—he died at 83—was one of strenuous activity in the service of his country. Mr Guedalla has written a fine book, graphic in execution and dispassionate in his treatment of his subject. The publishers of ‘ The Duke ’ are Hodder and Stoughton. AH ADVENTUROUS LIFE When. J. H. Squire, so widely known in late years as the founder and conductor of the famous Celeste Octete, ran away from home after receiving what h© considered to be an undeserved thrashing from his father, he began a life of thrilling adventure, a life packed full with events and episodes ranging, literally, from pitch and toss to manslaughter. For he had not been engaged as a boy before the mast for many months -when, at the age of 13, he killed a negro in self defence. Later, in a riot he killed a Chinese, and was fined 10 dollars for the offence. At an age when most boys are at school, young Squire was a soldier in one of the numerous Brazilian revolutions; here he was sentenced to be shot at dawn for breaking bounds, but -before dawn he had knocked the sentry of his prison unconscious and escaped. He was in the navy and took some part in the Boer War and in the Boxer rising; was a “ basher ” in a boxing booth; suffered many hardships on sea and land in situations which arose out of his roving proclivities. The sea had always a strong call for young Squire despite all this, and even when he decided that the time had come to taste of domestic bliss, there were periods when he took orchestral jobs on trans-atlantio liners. Such wild experiences as those through which the young. Squire went would scarcely suggest musical tastes, yet music always drew him and in later life he returned to it again and again. He had a succession of successes and failures in organising orchestras as in other ventures; indeed the phrase “ Once more 1 was broke ” appears frequently

in the book in which, under the title of £, . . and Master of None,’ h© tells this exciting story of his life, tells it in a racy style which amuses while it grips the attention of the reader. There is no doubt that J. H. Squire, restless, ambitious, ready to give and to take blows, has had a full life. His experiences have, it is evident, bred in him a philosophy in which frankness and loyalty are prominent. “ I believe,” he says, “ above all in three things; friendship, personal integrity, and a turning of one’s best face to tho world.” Not a bad creed. Our copy of ‘ . .v and Master of None ’ comes from the publishers, Herbert Jenkins (London).

! THE FACE OF THE EARTH ’■

On© of the hobbies of King Charles H. was sauntering, but the Merry Monarch did his walking in a verjr l restricted area, within easy reach of his palace. Mr J. H. Curie, the author of ‘ The Shadow Show,’ is a saunterer, but he takes tho whole world in his stride. He reckons that he has travelled 1,600,000 miles. The luxury linens on tho beaten tracks do not attract him. He likes the remote and the little-known places of the earth. The fact that much discomfort and even hardship are incurred in his wanderings in no way discourages him. If he does not actually enjoy the conditions in places remote from civilisation, he endures them, considering the results well worth the throe. Mr Curio is an entertaining writer, and much enjoyment is to be obtained from his latest book, ‘ The Face of the Earth.’ He, seems to have a preference for tropical countries. In this book the scene opens in Central Africa. The actual place is BJantyre, a little north of tho Zambesi, in the Protectorate of Nyasaland, which was discovered’in 1859 by Livingstone. Leaving Africa, the author moves on to New Guinea and various isles of tho South Seas. Then we find him in the heart of India, followed by visits to Spain and Portugal, and to Spanish America, including Uruguay, the Purple Land which W. H. Hudson described in a fascinating book. The author’s final chapter, entitled ‘ Men Upon the Earth,’ is a disquisition on present-day developments, with particular reference to the rise or nationalism. He says: “Itis so facile to predict war. So easy to overlook factors that make for peace. But as long as the people irock in tho throes of nationalism —political, economic, and religious—and are at the mercy of the popular Press, some outbreak or, other within a reasonably few years, which will develop into a world war, will develop as likely as not.” Mr Curie, looking to the future, concludes: “Of what avail this generation if the next be even a tiny bit inferior? Each of us can do something to help in his or her particular way. It would be the way of true religion, too. To work for the next generation, is just your duty towards your neighbour at one remove, or shall we say to the first place of decimals.” The publishers of ‘ The Face of the Earth ’- are Methuen and Co., London.

RED SEA ADVENTURE

The story of a British intelligence officer who puts his work before his love is the basis of ‘ Red Star,’ which was written by Dorothy Buck. Lee Maitland is sent to Djeddah, on the Reel Sea, to cany out some investigations. He soon finds himself closely involved in the lives of tvyo other people, Glenda Humphrys, wife of the jealous and passionate Emir Suliman, and her twin sister Eirlys. who was anxious to help her sister to escape from her husband’s harem. _ The love which grows up between Maitland and Eirlys and the setbacks which it receives provide a vitally interesting story which is convincing in its presentation with all the glamour of the East. Though it is somewhat disconnected, it holds the attention of the reader from start to finish. The publishers are Hurst and Blackett Ltd.

NEW ST. JOHN COOPER NOVEL

r A' tale of mystery and intrigue is unfolded in ‘ Love’s Pilgrimage,’ which comes from the pen of Henry St. John Cooper. Judy Frensham and Peter Manning are the chief characters, the former living in the gloomy atmosphere of her aunt's house. > There always seemed to be something repressive and mysterious in the house, but the girl was never able to discover the cause. Complications arise when Jules ißenauld falls in love with Judy and the aunt, (Rachel Garten, appeals to Peter for help. Unknown to the other two the aunt is in the power of Renauld, but refuses to give him the girl. In the pages which follow is told the events which bring misery and unhappiness to _ all concerned, and finally the correction of the misunderstanding brought about by Renauld when the two lovers aro reunited. Sampson Low, Marston and Co. Ltd. are the publishers.

RIP VAH WINKLE IN EXCELSIS

‘The (Rotrrn of Brother Petroc,’ by S.M.C. (Ouatto and Windus), It might appear frivolous to describe this clever study as a kind of inversion of ‘ A Yankee at the Court of King Arthur.’ It is too much informed by tho Catholic spirit. Briefly it is the story of a young Benedictine who is buried by his brother monks on the eve of their flight from a lonely monastery on tho Cornish coast. Sir Humphrey Arundel had led a forlorn hope in tho name of the Holy See against the King’s men, and had been defeated. Brother Petroc’s two elder brothers had been slain, and he_ himself falls in a trance before an image of Our Lady in the Benedictine chapel. Shortly afterwards he dies, to all intents and purposes, and is buried in the precincts of the chapel. Four hundred years later the place, passes into the hands of the Benedictines once more, and in the course of alterations the hody_ of Petroc is exhumed. The Sub-Prior has had a distinguished career at Guy’s before answering the call, and he recognises signs of life in the body. As the author remarks in the introduction, “ my tale is founded upon a hypothesis which is not at all impossible in the universe to which it belongs. Granted this hypothesis the rest is inevitable.” If the reader is prepared to grant the hypothesis he will find a fascinating story in this account of a Benedictine who spoke and thought Elizabethan English orientating himself to the modern world. The book is written by one who seems to have a good hold on spiritual essentials. The following passage may help to allay our misgivings in the matter of wireless, at least the misgivings of those who have not already delivered themselves over to the Satanic influ- 1 ences which the great _ invention so readily abets. The occasion is tho loan of a wireless set to the Abbot by a neighbouring layman. The Abbot, of course, would not permit wireless to he permanently installed, hut this particular broadcast is concerned with tho rendering of church music. These are Brother Petroc’s reflections on the phenomenon : “ Now it seems to me that I am again a very little child, in the array of my Heavenly Father, watching a pageant. I understand little, and I ask as little as may he, hut am content to watch the show in His arms If at times I grow weary or affrighted, then do I turn my eyes away and hide my face on His shoulder until the terror has passed. And I ever pray; ‘ Lord, in Thy mercy let nothing come too close nor Seem too real.’ Thus 1 can turn my reason alone on what T am told, holding with heart and imagination. in joy to my Heavenly Father.”

The book may be stigmatised by soma as Hugh Benson’s novels were stigmatised, T ‘ an insidious form of tract.”. One prefers to liken it to such a work as ‘ Half-hours With the Mystics,’ though there is more of a story to ‘ (Brother Petroc.’ The reactions of a trained Benedctine mind of Reformation days to the modern world, with “ its sick clamour, its divided ■aims,” are imaginatively conceived and cleverly portrayed. Petroc serves a short term as sacricstan in the Benedictine church, and his encounters with the visitprs belonging to a varying wprld are aptly described. He_ meets there a Jesuit, who is the occasion for a dissertation on the society quite in the manner of ‘ Half-hours With the Mystics.’ The final gathering of Brother Petroc does not recall ‘ The Gathering of Brother Hilarius.’ Whatever spiritual insight or intuition Michael Fairless may have possessed, she had not the intellectual equipment of the author of ‘ The Return of Brother Petroc,’ whoever. he or she may be.—C.R.A.

DESERT REPRIEVE

‘ Desert Reprieve,’ by Francis A. Waterhouse (Sampson Low), is a convincing tale of the French Foreign Legion. A young English airman, finding his wife unfaithful _to him. shoots her lover,- who was his trusted friend. The airman, who is engaged in a cross-channel air service, deliberately crashes on the coast of France, succeeds in reaching Marseilles, and enlists in the Foreign Logion. From then on the tale is one of the everyday life of a legionary on active service. The author describes in a vivid way the ordeal that the members of this hand endure in the Atlas Mountains, and on the sun-baked sands of the desert. If the reader did not know that such was actually the case he would not believe that men could go through such sufferings and live. In ‘ Desert Reprieve ’ the characterisation is good, and the fighting and other incidents vividly described.

ALL ABOUT SNAKES '

Mr T. H. Gillespie, the director of the Zoological Park, Edinburgh, has written several volumes on animals and their habits, mainly from a zoo aspect. In ‘ The Way of a Serpent,’ published by Herbert Jenkins, he has compiled a small, profusely-illustrated volume giving a popular account of the habits of snakes. Though brief, the hook is remarkably comprehensive, and provides fascinating reading. Tl\e ways of snakes in their wild state and in captivity are clearly and simply set forth, and many interesting facts are recorded, not the least of which is the strange process, of sloughing the skin at frequent intervals. The author explodes many popular beliefs, including tho power of fascination, the trick of snake charming, and also the exaggerated tales told of constricting by the larger snakes. It is the type of book which gives one a new angle on snakes and reveals that by no means are all snakes venomous and useless. For some reason Australian snakes are not referred to, and one other item of information would have been interesting—namely, the age snakes live to; but beyond once or twice mentioning their_ long life no average indication of age is given.

* THANK YOU, HR HOTO *

In ‘Thank You, Mr Moto’ (Herbert Jenkins), John P- Marquand has written a distinctly good story of adventure in China, one in many ways out of the ordinary. The hero, Tom Nelson, has lived for some years in Peking, and has slowly adopted a fatalistic attitude towards life. He has a saying, “ It doesn’t really matter, does it? ’ that suras up his character, a gathering he meets Major Best, a. cashiered British Army officer; Eleanor Joyce, an American girl in China to buy pictures; and Mr Moto, a suave Japanese diplomat, who is in Peking in the hope of discovering information concerning a rising being engineered by a bandit, Wu Lo Feng. The chance meeting with these people leads Nelson into a sudden whirl of turmoil and danger, in which he, the girl, and Mr Moto nearly lose their lives and the major does. Finally Mr Moto removes all danger and averts the rising. The_ author has an unhurried style which suits thestory admirably, particularly as Nelson is the mouthpiece, and the manner of writing lends greater emphasis to Nelson s character.