THE BOOKSHELF

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21248, 30 July 1932, Page 9 (Supplement)

THE BOOKSHELF

£RNEST BRAMAH'S LATEST KAI LUNG AGAIN There are no half-measures in tho // appreciation of Ernest Bramah's Chinese tales. The reader accepts them at once as bed-side companions and household words, or—almost impossible as it seems —he is bored by their richness of verbosity and the soothing slowness of their motion. And they have been thus relished, or else " viewed with tho eyo of no-enthusiasm," by some of the most unlikely people. Those bored ones should not attempt Mr. Bramah's new volume, "The Moon of Much Gladness," and even the faithful may , bo slightly—but only slightly—disappointed, y j£ai Lung is again the narrator . . . f tho feeble but conscientious recorder of authentic facts." This time, however, he tells a continuous tale, not short stories as in the immortal " Wallet," the "Golden Hours," and " Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat." There, perhaps, is the reason for this comparative failure, if the book can be said to fail in any real degree. Tho elaborate art of the Chinese manner is an unqualified success, for ten, twenty, or thirty pages; in a novel of the usual length it, has time to become a little tedious. Yet there is much to enjoy,; for each one of the three hundred pages has some gravity-removing incident or some curious felicity of phrasing. The tale .itself is a good and absurd one, giving scope for genial touches of satire on such institutions as the law, the press, and the detective story, Its chief actors are familiar figures in the Bramah convention, not freshly invented, but very pleasant to meet again; tho wise and lovely maiden " who does not seem to possess any feet at all, so delicately proportioned are the extremities of her lower details;" the resourceful youth, her lover, , who is secretary to the obese and obnoxious mandarin; tho elegantly conversational robbers and servants, and the rest. There is one immortal addition to the cast . . . the heroine's father, a professional espresser of public apologies and a peevish, drunken, charming old person. . ..." It can no longer be withheld that under the corrosive test of life in voluptuous Kochow, with a glimpse of the even mdre rapidly moving capital added, much of the external gloss of the impressive patriarch's /complaisant front hid, so to speak, peeled away, and the cne who formerly was content to 6bserve changing hues of ac autumn-tinted hydraDgea now spoke familiarly of the conflicting merits of rival lantern-boat attractions, lamented the absence of the latest tidings from tho more fancied tanks of gladiatorial goldfish, and even in his " sleep, seemed to be on terms of flowername intimacy with a variety of teahouse maidens." He will need no further commendation to the Bramah-fancier. "The Moon, of Much Gladness,'' by Ernest Bramah. (Catsell.)

AN OUTSTANDING BOOK STUDY OF RELATIONSHIPS / " Cross Winds" is not a wonderful bo6k, but it is unusually satisfying. One remembers that there have been other books of Elinor Mordaunt's which had the sate.e quality. One dares to prophecy lihat if she were to take a leaf out of Alarjorie Bowen's book and publish her next novel under a pseudonym she might find herself hailed as an exciting discovery. As a novelist she has all the pifts. Her very quietness has distinction. For the rest ''she writes with naturalness j and ease and has an uncanny insight into 1 human nature. Her books do not date. "Cross Winds" will probably be as readable in five years time as it is to-day. She is a born teller of tales and tis such will always hold her reader's interest. Her new book is, of course, a love story, nevertheless it seems etrange and exciting. A lonely little boy makes friends with a small girl who lives i'a the neighbourhood. They aro companions for six brief never-to-be-forgotten weeks, after which the little girl's parents leave the neighbourhood. When they are '■ grown up they meet in a train and immediately recognise each other. But the meeting is too hurried, too sudden. The ' man is leaving on a round-the-world tour. There is only time to see.him off, then they aro lost to each other again, for tho man loses the girl's address. When next he hears of the girl she is in Java, standing trial for tho murder of her husband, 'a notoriously dissolute and cruel xnan. She is acquitted and the man, already half way to Java, meets her and the two are married. The girl immediately puts her horrible experiences behind her and prepares to taste happiness for the first time in her life. She never speaks of her former husband, and this reticence torments her now husband. There is too much that he does not know. His health is undermined, and his relationship with . his wife comes near to being spoiled. Iho actual story of " Cross Winds " happens to be absorbing, but tho book is much moro than a story. It is a mature book, nnd Elinor Mordaunt gives fully of herself. .\t least it will set readers asking for other books by the same author. " ( rots "Winds," by Ulinor Mordaunt. 'Seeker. J SHORT STORIES / THE GREAT OUTDOORS Eleven short stories, ranging in their locations from the vast, white spaces of *' le Yukon and other northern latitudes the fetid swamps of tho African coast, wake " Pawns and Kings " by " Seamark " a book that will be thoroughly enjoyed by those who would read tales of wen who arc s'eally men. " Seamark " has l he gifi; of making his characters and su, 'rouuclings live, and in " Jungle Whispers" one" can almost i'eei the rythmic stomach-sinking inonody of the tom-toms beating out their warning from * h « D;irk Swamps. His final story Haronn the Rash," belonging neither to junglio or white waste, is most unusual ,n its treatment of tho old triangla tale. "Pawns and Kings:" Stories by " Soatoark." (HodJcx t.ud Stoushton.)