SOME RECENT FICTION

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 7871, 5 August 1911, Page 12

SOME RECENT FICTION

“The Claw." “Tho Claw" (Melbourne: Melville and Mullen; Wellington: Whitoombo and 'llambs), is less melodramatic than its immemato predecessor, "Loppy." Miss Cynthia Stockley’e latest story is more in tho style of her “Virginia of the Rhodesians." It is immeasurably tho strongest and • .host .work sho has done, and is a very fine novel—indeed, it comes : very near being a really great noy<jl. Poor JJeidre, the Irish American heroine, finds to her post that what a “brown faced, blue eyed man” had told her (at a Dublin .ball) about Africa was only too true. Ho had spoken of Africa as She, “and with a mingled hatred and lovo that conjured ,up a vision of some false, beautiful vampire, who dragged men to her and fastened her claws in their hearts for ever." Sure pnough, w-aen Deddro joins her sister-in-law, a heartlees, frivolous woman, in a little town — more 1 camp ,than town —in Mashonaland, sho rapidly finds quite a collection of claws, thb cruel spiteful claws of a lot of idle, jealous, none too moral women, wearied to death of their dull life and sordid surroundings. But the “blue-eyed; man" turns up, and Deidrc loves him, despite the malicious tongues of local scandal. Soon Lobenguela goes on the war path, and the men folk have to go too. Miss Stock ley gives a striking account of tho fighting—the massacre of Major Wilson and his gallant followers at the Shangana being described most vividly and powerfully. Tho “blueeyed man,” alas, is reported missing, and by tho meanest passable of tricks the poor girl is led to beliovo ho is dead. Dosing her money through a dishonest trustee, practically turned adrift by her selfish sister-in-law, whose husband has been killed in the war, Deidro consents to marry the man who, unknown of course to her, has forged the evidence of the “blue-eyed man’s death.” Tho marriage is ill-fated from tho first, for on her wedding night the poor girl discovers most damning evidence that her husband has deceived her, .although of tho full extent of his treachery she is still ignorant. The marriage remains a marriage in name only, tire husband, a secret tippler, goes from bad to worse, and ever the woman's burden becomes heavier to bear. I cannot tell in detail how relief comes to tho tortured woman, bate content myself with saying that tho drunken husband’s conscience is at last aroused and that by tho .one docent adt of bis life, he at once expiates his offence and leaves Deidre free to make a,second and real marriage with the man she has, never ceased to lovo, and in whose death 'die has never really believed. So much for tho barest outline of iv remarkable story, full of .strong character drawing, mercilessly keen ■analysis of character, both male and female, vividly pidturesquo scenes of war, and scathingly satirical glimpses of “society" in an up country .South African town. The hero, the “blue-eyed man,” is perhaps a trifle stagey—the middle-aged, plain, almost .ugly hero, with a reputation for wickedness—is becoming quite a familiar figure nowadays. But as the. .story proceeds, tho characters strengthen. Manrico Stair, the tippling husband, develops perhaps rather too suddenly into a drunkard, and there are other, shall X say, discrepances in the story- But the little group of scandalmongering women, Mrs Valetta, Mrs Skeffmton-Smythe, Miss Cleeve, and Hie rest of them—these are all excellent. The dialogue throughout is crisp and bright, without any straining after "smartness.” and the” general vigour and entrain of tho story must bo fascinating. But why such a clever book should bp-defaced by the picture on the front cover—tho picture of a simpering, commonplace creature, of the secondclass chorus girl style of female—goodness only knows. But never mind the cover —read the book. Jennie Allen. A year or two Miss Grace Donworth’s first instalment of the Letters of Jennie •illen to her friend. Miss Musgrove, had a great vogue in tho States. There has evidently been a call for “more.” and Miss Donworth now responds with a second volume, "Down Home with Jennie Allen” (Boston: Small, Maynard; Melbourne: George Robertson and Co.), in which much of the old humour, plus perhaps a rather larger dose of tho old philosophy of tho hard-working, plain gnokcn' but warm-hearted Jennie, is again set forth for our entertainment. The book is ono which, personally, I prefer to take in small doses, for to plough through chapter after chanter of spelling of tho Artenius Ward kind, and

grammar of much tho same brand, becomes a trifle monotonous. Not that Jennie Allen is ever dull. Far from it. She constantly varies her subject and keeps ns either laughing loudly or chuckling quietly. But three hundred pages of Jennie Allen all at a sitting, or even two or three sittings, is a trifle cloying. A special word of commendation for tho illustrations, by F. K. Gruger. They are admirably in keeping with the text, and arc splendid specimens of bold and effective black and white work. “The Other Richard Graham.” Airs Frank Clapporton, tho author of “Tho Other Richard Graham" (London : Elliot Stock; Wellington: Gordon and Gotch), is, I understand, a New Zealand lady, and I pre.sume “The Other Richard Graham" is her maiden effort in fiction. I am sorry 1 cannot say- much in its favour. The plot is crudely worked out, the characters very stagey, and tho style stiff and stilted. Tho earlier scenes aro laid in Central Otago, and later in tho story- tl vo chief characters settle down in a Manawatu township. Airs Clapperton’s best character is a country parson, of somewhat unconventional type, who well deserves live woman for whom hs waits so long and patiently, and by whom, he is so misunderstood. The patient and loyal wife of the virtuous Dick Graham is a very lovable figure, but the other Graham, Dickie, as quite an impossible villain, of the good old Londou Journal type, and surely the axithor could have imagined some more modern moans of vengeance than the poisoned book trick of mediaeval Italy. There is (co. a Frenchwoman, a most desperately- wicked creature, out-Braddoaa-ing even the most wicked Frenchwoman that Aliss Braddon ever invented, whose brokeiv English is everything it ought; not to bo. Still there is a certain promise about tho book, tho country life scenes in tho later chapters being very pleasantly- described. Mrs Clappertou may, and probably will, do bettor in a second effort. But she must eschew crude melodrama and chasten and simplify her style. “The Other Richard Graham’’ is but poor stuff, and should never have been published.

“Love In Pernicketty Town.” Mr Crockett is never so interesting as when he returns to the scene of his earlier successes. His “Lovo in Pernicketty Town” (Hodder and Stoughton; Wellington: AVhitcombc and Tombs) is the best story wo have had from tho peu of this prolific author for some time past. It deals with tho sensation caused in Pernicketty Town, a peaceful, sleepy Lowland town, by the advent of a clever religious charlatan, a travelling' evangelist, who is also a hy-puotist and uses bis powers most unscruplously. There is a pretty lovo story interwoven in the main plot, - but tho best feature of the book is its series of character portraits of the good folk of Pernicketty- Town, especially- tho “moenisters” anil their leading supporters. The Mesmeric Evangelist works untold mischief in the town. In the long run hfT is exposed, but not before lie has boeu the cause of tho mental collajise of a very lovable girl. His end is tragic and not undeserved. Tho moral of tho story, namely, the folly of people putting their faith in travelling evangelists, especially of tho

“mesmeric” variety, is perhaps a trifle too laboured, but the novel is none the leas an excellent bit of work.