LIBER'S NOTE BOOK.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXVII, Issue 17394, 3 February 1917, Page 12

LIBER'S NOTE BOOK.

MTSS AMBER REEVES AND HER NOVELS. In the Christmas "Bookman." Mr W. I/. George, the well-known novelist, gives a piquantly interesting sketch of the personalitv of Miss Amber Reeves (daughter of the Hon W. P. Reeves, ex-High Commissioner for New Zealand, "now one of the most promising of English ladv novelists). Mr George first met the author of "The Reward of Virtue " and " A Lady and Her Husband " at n garden party in the prewar davs and, so he says, "felt very mild near this young lady so dark in the whit* frock of simplicity, or artifice, with broad cheeks that recalled the rattlesnake, soft cheeks tinted rather like a tea rose, with long, dark eyes, wicked, aggressive and yet laughing." She wa« about twenty-three, and that, is not so Ions; ago: she w still the child who has attended Sunday school and been "brou?ht up pious." Daughter of a New Zealand Cabinet Minister and of a mother so rich in energv that /ih» turned to suffrage the scholarly Mr Pember Beeves, Miss Amber Reeves was a. spoilt child. She wa6 ulso the child of a principle, had been sent to Kensington High School to learn to be democratic and meet the butcher's daughter. She had 'been to Newnham. too, taken tip Socialism, climbed up a drain pipe and been occasionally sought in marriage. At ten she had writton poems and plays, then fortunately Rave un literature, and. as a sponge flung into the river of life, took in people as they were, arrived at the maxim that things do not matter but only the people who do them. A last attempt to organise her took place in the London School

of Economics, whore she was to writo n thesis; one somotimes suspects that she. never (jot over it. Mr George describes Miss Reeves's novels " as tho work of a faintly cynical Mark Tapley." Her trainiug, in sociology, at the London School of Economics (cf which Mr Reeves is principal), is no doubt her interest in business and politics. For Mr George declares /that "she really knows what is a limited liability company or an issue warrant." Ho adds:— She Is not limited br love, but embraces such problems ns money, rank, science, c'.nsa habits, which fwvo or destroy love. She finds her way i« the modern tniifrle where emotion and cupidity trundle together on a crusty road. She is not always hint, but she ia usually judiciel. Her men p.ro rather pros* instead of stroll?; slio likes them, she tolerates tlicm; they tire together brutes and " poor dears." But then we are most of us a little like that. "PHILIP GIBBS. WAR CORRESPONDENT.

Who does not know, by name at feast, Mr Philip Gibbs, the rising young novelist, who has done such splendid work as a war correspondent, and whoso new book, "The Battles on the Somme," has just been published. In the Christmas "Bookman" Mr )\ . Douglas Newton has a most interesting appreciation of Gibbs and his workPersonally he is, I read, as unlike the traditional picture of a war correspondent as anv man might Jio. Mr Newton says:—" He is not only built smnll, but built almost daintily. He looks frail. His features are delicately fashioned. They are neat ancl wellcut, and of a cameo kind to fit his cameo pallor ... he has, at first glance, the look of a student, a man who has, with a certain human austerity, withdrawn from tho excitements of the world to live amongst books. . . . When going away to the Balkans in the war of }9V2 his friends tried to dissuade him. ' You'll be dead in a month.' they insisted. He told mo, with hi' warm smile, that he thought the prophetsovould be ripht. He thought all the odds wore on his dying. But he failed to die. ' I put on several pounds in weight, that was all.' he admitted." It is certainly a good thing for the world, as for himself, that the prophets wore wrong, for no other- writer lias given us such vividly dramatic nietures of war ns those we have had from his nen. New Zealanders in particular should be grateful to Mr Gibbs for bis whole-souled admiration for the way our boys have carried themselves at tho front. THE VALUE OF THE BRITISH , FLAG. In Admiral C. 0. Penrose Fitzgerald's book of naval reminiscences. " From Sail to Steam," there is a good story of how the author, when cruising in the Levant, was curiously enlightened as to the subtle worldly philosophy of which a clever Hebrew can be capable. Fitzgerald and a follow officer, who went ashore at. Antioch to enjov some shooting and indulge their taste for archaeology, were put up bv the British Consular Agent, a rich Jew merchant, who owned one of the host houses in the town. He entertained, the party most hospitably lor three da vs. and'when they were about to leave'-Admiral Fitzgerald asked his dragoman. Joe, what there was to pay" "Nothing, sir." said Joe, the old gentleman would bo very much insulted if von were to offer him money. Admiral Fitzgerald then suggested a handsome present, as doe had brought the party to the house on Ins own responsibility, and as the owner must be a wood deal out of pocket through entertaining his uninvited guests. Never fear, sir" said Joe, "you need not be alarmed about his being out o pocket. Your visit to his house will pYobnbly be worth about £ooo to nhn " Joe's explanation of this stai tling statement wa ft to the i»U°™ effect:—The Jew was not only a mcicbant with a large business, but he was also a money-lender and had a large amount of c*.tst*»dmg debts owing to him throughout tho town He was enitf«l to fly the British flag by virtue of his office as British Consular agent, and he would represent to , hi ß debtors that the captain of the British man-of-Sfi come to stay with him for tho pnrpose of enabling h>m to collect his debts. A leaping wind from England: The skies without a stain. Clean cut acainst the morning-1 Slim poplars after >» in ; The foolish noise of sparrows And starlinas in a, woodAfter the crime of battle AVe know that these are Rood. T) c:i th whinins down from Heaven, Death roaring from tho ground, Death stinkin<r in the nostril, Death shrill in every sound. Doubting we charged and conqucredHopeless we atruck and stood; >'ow when the fijht is ended •\Vo know that it was Rood. TVe that have been tho strongest Cry like a beaten child, The sanest eyes unholy Tho cleanest hands denied. AVo that have known the heart b.ood Less than the lees of wine, We that have seen men broJien AVe know man is divine. STRAY LEAVES. The many friends in Christchurch of Captain Malcolm Ross and' his clever son, Noel—the latter now on the staff of the London " Times's—will 5 —will bo glad to know that the war book, ■'Light and Shade in War." in which father and son have collaborated, is having a big sale in the Old Country. A second edition was called for a day or two after publication, advance orders by tho trade being so large. The "Daily Mail's" review was most enthusiastic, and that in "'The Times' Literary Supplement ' almost equally so,. I hope to give a detailed notice of the book m a week or two. Those of my readers who know French well enough to enjoy French literature in the original should note the. appearance, in Dent's excellent Collection 'Gallia, of the poems of Ber-nno-er, whom someone once eallcl '"the French Burns." Berangcr is still the most popular of poets with the groat mass of the French people. Another useful reprint is a shilling edition of tho "Memoirs, of Madanio Oampan" (a selection of course), just published in Nelson's "Collection Frnncaise." Madame Campan was a Lady of the Bedchamber to Mario Antoinette, and was afterwards mistress of a very fashionable girls' school under Napoleon. For her version of the famous Diamond Necklace incident alone Madame Campan's memoirs are well worth reading. The Christmas special number of "The Bookman" (Hodder and Stoughton) is splendid value for the halfcrown at which it is priced. It is :,, thick folio, fairly crammed with excellent articles and illustrations. The latter include coloured plates of Edmond Dulac, Claude Sbr-pperson, Arthur Rackham and Herbert Ward, and black and white drawings by Brangwyn. Charles Dana. Gibson, W. Heath Robinson and other well-known artists. Amongst the literary features are articles by Thomas Secconibe, "A Bi-Centeoary ' Pilgrimage to Gray's Stoke Pogis"; Dr William Barry, on "Lafcadio Hearn" ; Douglas Golding, " The Poetry of James M'Elroy Flecker." etc. Mr W. Douglas Newton writes an interesting appreciation of Philip Gibbs, novelist and war correspondent, and W. L. George's critical estimate of Miss Amber Reeves's novels is naturally of much interest to New Zealanders. Hoddor and Stoughton publish a new volume of playlets by Sir" J. M. Barrio, who seems nowadays to have deserted fiction for the drama. The book contains four plays, "Pantaloon,"

"Tho Twelve Pound Look," "Bnsalind" and "The Will." MothueiVs announce as having in preparation an addition to their five shillings edition of Osoar Wilde's works, of which twelve volumes have already appeared. Tho new volume will contain the reviews contributed by Wildo to tho "Pall Mall" and other periodicals. Hitherto these havo only been obtained in the edition de luxe' published by .Methuen's at 12s 6d a volume. Personally, I much prefer tho format of tho cheaper edition at five shillings. They are delightful little books in what is called foolscap octavo, beautifully printed and bound in neat green cloth. Eventually, I suppose, all Wilde's works will bo repub-lished-in Moi linen's Shilling Library, which already includes tho poems and most of the plays. How the war tinctures, as inevitably it must, even literary criticism ! Thus T find a "Times" ("Literary Supplement") reviewer of Dr Sigmund Freud's bonk, "Wit and Its Relation to the Unconscious." ending his article as follows:—"His philosophy is, at the root, the philosophy that says: These things are, tnerefore they must be. That is the scientific pitfall from which we hope Dr-Frond's compatriots—or their descendantsmay in time, he extricated. Till then the higher functions of humour.' ns of the other spiritual faculties, will remain a mystery to them."