THE BOOKSHELF.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20229, 13 April 1929, Page 7 (Supplement)

THE BOOKSHELF.

"UNDERTONES OF WAR.'" A POET'S IMPRESSIONS. Just when it seemed that tho last word had been said about tho war, its literature has broken out again more vigorous than ever. Everyone who has not already written a book about tho war, and many of those who have, are suddenly pouring out their impressions ( arid conclusions of it. ]t is difficult to see why. They are not saving anything new. Everyone who went to the war had much the same experiences, varying according to locality and sensitiveness, and it has all been said long ago. B-.t when, a writer of Mr. Edmund Blunders gifts and pleasantness puts himself on paper he cannot bo neglected, though ore takes up the task with somo reluctance.

Therein fortuno is kind, for hero is tho | exception, tho book about tho war which stJl needed writing. No ono has brought such a sane, balanced, clean outlook to bear on those dark days. Mr. Blunden is always exceedingly likeable; he writes in g simple, effortless style, just jotting down the incidents from day to day; ho talks to easily and intimately that we are there in the trendies with him, fellow adventurers, sharing tho food, tho hardships, tho danger; liking where he likes, hating where lie hates, afraid wliero he is afraid. Though/Mr. Blunden writes so simply, he writes with a poet's vision and inspiration, selecting, peering, wondering, and from time to time with deadly certainty, seeing. In a supplement at the end of the book, there aro included a number of poems written, for tho most part, while the war was still hot in his mouth, which bring back as nothing else than war poetry ever could, the atmosphero and undertones of the war. " The Undertones of War," by Edmund Blucdcu.. (Cobden-Sanderson.) DELIGHTFUL SUBTLETY. ADVENTURES OF " LIV.". Kathleen Coyle's " Liv" is a novel which by reason of the rareness of its quality, immediately distinguishes it from the mass of modern fiction. It is impossible to read "Liv" and not feel its effect. The setting is Norwegian. In the first page one is transported to Norway—one actually seems to breathe the keen northern air—to see the piercing brightness of tho sunlit snow. The first half of the hook keeps one in Korway, the hitter half Paris—" the focus of those who want io do nothing." Norway and Paris are both shown one through the eyes of Liv, whose vivid yet delicate spirit enchants the whole book. Liv longs to escape from Ler home in Norway and find herself. Her aunt, whose daughter she might easily have been, so alike are their natures, understands her need and makes her trip possible. After a brief time in Paris, which, however, is rich in experience. Liv flies to her aunt •with whom she is sure of understanding. Comforting her, the aunt explains: "It is all right for us here. Here we preserve our pride. When we go south into warmer lands we lose something of ourselves. We thaw, wo Hood over. We are not to blame. We have to be born down there to know how to deal with it—l think it is better to stay where we belong, where • even the tices know us." Throughout the book the inspiration never flaps. The writing is delightfully subtle. It has a crystal clearness and a quality of' delicate sympathy which will he likely to impress the name of Kathleen Coyle on the reader's memory. " Liv," by Kathleen Coyle. (Jonathan Care.) PEPYS' WIFE TALKS. GLIMPSES OF ELIZABETH. Tt was always certain there was another side of Pepys' story. Smug Samuel has held the stage long enough. Running off to the House, to Court, to the play, ilirting here, gossiping there, toadying at the Duke's, kissing below stairs, strutting in drafting rooms, and then " homo to bed," where " his wife, poor wretch," must have everything ready for his comfort. A loving, complaisant, eager wife, whose only care was to pleasure him, with never a thought for her own desires or gaiety. And she half French ! Elizabeth undoubtedly has a side. In E. B. B/unner's book, " My Wife. Poor Wretch," the reader is shown a glimpse of this side. Not an extravagant, forced caricature, but the even tcii<• i* of life in the Pepys' household as related in the Diary, only seen through Elizabeth's eyes, instead ot Samuel's. We find the latter a peevish, vain, selfish grumbler, but something of a big, simple, helpless boy, and it "was undoubtedly this quality which appealed to the maternal instinct of Elizabeth, and bound her to him. The book is written in lively fashion, with just enough archaisms to make it reminiscent of the Journal, without becoming tedious. Elizabeth shows her mettle by inviting all Samuel's dear ladies to his house simultaneously, all being under the illusion that they are to have a tete-a-tete with Samuel in his wife's absence. To tlirm enters Elizabeth dramatically, bringing consternation to all but Nell Gwyn, who unstintingly admires the dramatic skill of her inwardly quaking hostess, and uses it as an artistic study. When, the English find virtue in anything they are apt to squeeze it dry and distil the rind. They have put Pepys in some vague niche between Sbakesperj ai.fi Sheridan. They have read him, and caricatured him, and given his opini'-ns on the Great War, and put him in a play. Now they have started on Lis wife, fortunately, perhaps, he had no children. " AT? Wife, poor Wretch," by E. B. Blunter. (Eel-ant and Co.) j AN UNUSUAL STORY. "SHEPHERD AND THE CHILD." The scene of John Owen's interesting find unusual story, " The Shepherd and the Child," is agricultural Suffolk. It is the story of a child, interwoven with that of a shepherd. Ihe child, Sebhy, has thoughtlessly killed a lark with his new catapult./ He realises what he has done I and is overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. He secretly buries the bird, but all brightness is, swept from his little world. He makes'friends with the shepherd, Stephen Lanthorn, and is able to confess his deed. The passages between the shepherd and the child are of rare beauty. The .shepherd's story and tragedy are on quite another plane. The author puts forward an interesting theory which the reader may or tony not find convincing. There is, however, a note of sincerity throughout the ibook that will command attention. " The''Shepherd and the Child," by John Owen. (Uollancz.)