Books... By “Caxton" A Romance Of Modern Revolt

Northern Advocate, 2 December 1939, Page 11

800k5... By “Caxton" A Romance Of Modern Revolt

The Prodigal Parents, by Sinclair Lewis iDoubleday and Doran, 7/6)Just the very kind of book most of us are looking for, a rattling good story, packed with human insight, bubbling over with hearty humour, constantly springing surprises, and covering a wide variety of everyday life, including Paris and glimpses of Europe, without once bringing us into contact with the* tragedy that is shaking the world’s nerves and staggering civilisation.

Who's Who. Fred W. Cornplow is a shrewd successful American business man in the retail car trade. Hazel, his wife, is a wise-hearted delightful woman, and, on the trip to Europe, she astonishes even her husbahd by a ready dommand of social resources none had thought she possessed. Sarah, the college graduate daughter, is the modern girl to the finger tips. She becomes infatuated with new ideas, Communism among them. Howard, the son, is the modern college-bred, athletic, handsome, ties-and-socks-to-match type of superior American youth, with some reputation as a footballer, and a selective taste in wines .arid companionships also to match, but, so far,, no sense of responsibility or sign of intellectual ability that you would notice. The Bream Begins. The shrewd father finds himself regarded as old-fashioned, obsolete. Useful as a banking account upon which his children never hesitate to draw, as a matter of course, though they make little response of affection and consideration. Finally the father begins to feel that his life is not his own. It is hemmed in by the demands

and conventions imposed upon him and his wife by their children, the set their children cultivate, and sundry relatives who join in for what they can get. He resolves to break loose. Without a moment’s warning he gives them all the slip. This is how it started. Howard is leading up to a request for a loan. He mentions Eugene Siiga, a xriend and .a labour leader. They are off to a party.

All right, son. Staying at home tonight?, Ho, got to buzz back to Truxon and — No, no, now wait Dad. 11l drive like an old lady. You will not! And if you want to break your neck, that’s your business, but I’m getting good and tired of paying lines and repair bills, while you loaf through college. But (with wide, glad innocence) that’s just what 1 came to see you about! Dad, I’m not getting anything out of college. . . . How .about starling me here? Howard, I don’t want to be any crankier than the law allows, but I certainly don’t want you here, filling this place up with a lot of your fancy college friends. . . . Dad, you don’t understand! Eugene has shown both Guy and me where We’ve cut out being aristocrats. Don’t tell me! We have, we see now there’s got to be a new world. Youth has got to take charge. We’ve been thinking about starting a cell of the Workers’ International Cohesion— Coheeze they call it. This Gene is a grand guy, and awfully hard up. Could you let me have twenty-five bucks to lend him? I could not. Well —well —see you again.

So he breezes out, and Dad slumps a bit in his chair, weary of it, and wondering; “Wasn’t it possible, for Hazel and him to take time off, to flee from the pleasant padded servitude of the office, of their home, and see the world? Do a few crazy things—gambling not more’n once or twice at Monte Carlo — a table in the piazza of Venice? He had .the money.” Almost frightened, he ran from the heretical inspiration, jammed on his hat and overcoat; fled to the club. “Not many days after” to quote the original prodigal story, without a moment’s warning, Fred packs his wife and a few belongings into their special touring car and leaves for a cosy hide-out 150 miles away “with Hazel warm and. bewildered beside him.”

A Middle-Life Honeymoon. What they did, how they enjoyed it, how the startled family got busy, traced their “prodigal parents” and brought them back, is the first half of the story, and it is told with a gusto that makes the reader tingle with the excitement of the escape, the enchantment of their romantic new freedom, and the pathetically bad luck that ended it, However, it had served its purpose. The flame of desire was kindled not to be extinguished. They knew what to do next time—and they did it —the pursuing relatives only arriving breathlessly on the wharf in time to see a widening gulf of water between themselves and. the ship bound for Europe, from which Fred and Hazel waved farewell.

But all that is packed in between the two escapes, the visit to New York for instance; the specialist Sara had hoped would impress her father to put himself under psychiatric treatment, and so anchor him fore and aft to home, and the way practical, clear-headed, commonsenso Fred Cornplow puts a resolute foot down on all the humbug', is gorgeous fun, every page and chapter of it. Nor does the interest slacken when wo follow the prodigals abroad, and watch their relish and rejuvinalion. The climax, too, is an exciting surprise—the father's sudden return —alone, to rescue Howard, from trouble. Howard's re-start in life, and the lovely part played by Annabel, his wife, who is one of the author’s most appealing creations: the rest cuf®

by the lake .and the letter to Hazel in Europe written and ready for post, beginning, "You stay in Europe, see some more of London as well as Paris as long as you want to. The children are beginning to appreciate, and everything going to be swell. You and I will start off again some day. . .” That evening Fred went out of the tent to squat by Howard who observed, “Do you hear an outboard motor, way off down the river?”' "Yes!” And while they wondered who was breaking into their retreat, a big ninteen-foot. freighter canoe rounded a bend and headed for their camp lire, an Indian in the bow and behind him blurry mass, which rose, as they neared the landing. It was Hazel, in two blankets and a man’s felt hat. There’s a bit more to tbe end, and the curtain drops on a play of which one can truly say “I enjoyed every moment of it, and would love to see it again.” Readers of "Main Street,” "Babitt,” and "It Can’t Happen Here,” will already know that Mr Lewis can make people come alive in his books. That’s just it. They are all alive and very real in this book, and besides it has the fascination of a great romance, the spell of an entirely believable escape by which a business man preserved the finest things in his home and personal life from the destruction that threatened them in the dull round of successful business routine.