BOOK NOTICES

Otago Daily Times, Issue 14439, 4 February 1909, Page 5

BOOK NOTICES

" Tlie Climber." % E. I'. Benson. London: U. ileiuemauii. (3s 6d, Us 6d.)

" She had climbed to the top of the very highest tree, and been all the other tree-tops waving uelow her. . . , The > ambition, the success, the achievement, - had lieeu hers, Then she had sprung . upward again to the sun it-self, anil , tmmgli that leap had caused her to lose , her looting, in this moment of falling ; through the sunny air she did not regret i "• It is the story ol this rise and > this tall that. Mr li. F. Jienson sets out , to t-elI us. Uis heroine herself, speaking .in itliotlil'l' place, says:—" Years ago 1 1 planned to get. everything. Well, in a . sense i have got everything. 1 meant to climb out of that wayside ditch at ; iii'ixhaiit, to rise out like the larva of a . dragon-fly, to spread my wings, to climb, to soar. And indeed J have got everyi thing 1 can think of. .1 am at the top, [ ,vou kitow—it- is no use denying it. Ami ■ it isnt a atfre smart top: we think, we [ work, we are tremendously alive, But s what next. . . I've got to go much i higher than this. But 1 am afraid that • wherever you get it appears to be dead letel. ] really must take, out my spyi glass and find another mountain-top." ■ Jo which her friend replies Don't ■ you see you are only dissatisfied with < quite the minor things of life. lint when love is yours . , , how is i it possible not to he far more than content, to he divinely unsatisfied? That i happiness, that divine uncontent, must always rise from height to height. There is no top to it; it goes straight on to the infinite. Here we have the keynote, the mainspring, of the story and its "necessary antithesis. Lucia is the ideal (■limber. She wants everything, particularlv those good things that belong t 0 others, and which then appear to her most desirale. And what she wants she takes. She has no heart, 110 conscience, no sense of right and wrong. She is absolutely immoral—the IJndine of German legend. A creature without a soul. She is beautiful, brilliant, fascinating, gloriously young, intensely alive, with the tact that can simulate the virtues she lias not and the unscrupulous egoism which enables her to take all and give nothing, and yet count the. world her debtor. 11l the niedheval story, love gives_ IJndine her soul; but to the twentieth century heroine love comes too late, and, shorn ol its purify, cannot grow the wings which would support her flight into the empyrean, for a moment, she has the vision of sunnv heights, and springs up to meeL them'; but there is nothing to sustain her flight, and she falls headlong to the earth, ami the awakening soul is at- once crushed back into silence, Jt is a conscientious piece of work with a line moral, never obtruded 011 the reader, but brought out in the characters of—Madge, the tactful woman of the world, who at 42 finds 1 ile utterly exhausted, though she still contrives to hold a place in it: and Hand, the incarnation of love, who is willing to give, and does give, all to her faithless husband and her false friend, and vet comes out victor : sweeter, more perfected, more human, more divine. To draw such a character as .I.Ma's is a (iilßc.ull and thankless tas 1 ; Mr Benson «tys truly: "A lieio. tho..i;;h mo-a of ns are cast, in hemic mould, is easy to understand—it casts all but the worthiest aside, and follows that Nor would it. be diflicirlt to follow the franklv those who have never |.|,' P slightest impuliv towards a level that is higher than their normal one. Nor (till low came) was it dilHclt to ff,j| mv ,| ie seltishness of our poor climber, lint when the puzvJiiig and inevitable thin.r happened, love,' the finest iiDpnlto she had ever known, drove her, b v force of thyvars of self-seeking, into the .meanest course that, she had yet pursued. She did not plan an intrigue, but she planned to deceive, those who best loved and trusted ner. in order that she plionid not lie compelled to sacrifice anvthinnr he.r?.?ll\ Of the love thai recognises (he stem valinitv of the moral rode she was. of course, hopelessly incapable: of the love Mint reeled nothing of the mm , a [ Co j cv ( ] e( | ps con _ \eifMoii, stamps on friendship, repudiates obligations, she was capable, though on 1 v for a moment. What she was completely capable of was a projected course of careful deceit, in order-though she made no plans—-to give iov» a chance. She did not. put it so brutally to herself; indeed, so brutal a statement of the real state of her mind never occurred to her. She said only that she would not w7eck the lives of otheiw; she would onlv deceive them into a fool's paradise. And even ! to . l,cr mk'iweopie soul appeared u.n immensity. Ami at this moment, when s ,vas meanest, she appeared to herself to be more heroic than »hc had ever been before." Is such self-deception possible? l'robablv it is. for it is hard to gauge the depths of human folly and weakness. In his treatment of it Mr Benson gives his contribution to that interesting question of the nature and effects of a °lie, which have recently occupied the attention of our chief novelists. Again, true to his own idiosyncrasy—that of sounding the most modern note,—.Mr Benson, when speaking of Lucia's social successes, ?]>e;iks of the intellectual activity and brilliance of the " new stt" a.s boing" precipitated' 1 lather than created by Lucia. "If was there all the time, only she knew how to bring it, out." let, in spite of the merits, which we have endeavoured to point out, it must he confessed that Mr K. I<\ Bensons last three books have not been Quite up to his own hig-h-water mark; there are in them many signs of oa-reless-ik-sm both in language and construction; there is considerable repetition, and not a. little padding; there are few epigrams, and little brilliant conversation—in fact, iv is impossible lo avoid the conclusion that this clever author is overtaxing himself. lie is writing too much and "thinking too little. He himself would be the frost to endorse the old aphorism that the writers aim should be ''the maximum of t taught in t-lie minimum of words," but ho does not always ael upon if.

" The Rivernian." By Stewart Edward White. London : llodder and Sloughton. Duuediu: R. ,1. Stark and Co. (5s 6d, 2s 6d.)

Ihe majority of novels appear to be written lor the delectation of women, or sentimental young persons of either sex. "The Riyermun" is a man's book. It contains little sentiment, and that of the mast obvious and simple nature; but its account of the river trade in Western America, of the manipulation of the lumber industry, the—almost—technical details connected with the felling, running, delivering of logs, is instinctwith such knowledge and appreciation of the work that the readei can see and enter into Lhe toil which develops all a man s physical energies to the uttermost, giving him an iron frame, an nntirii)" energy, and the power of instant decisive action in the hour of danger : the eye to see, the hand to execute, such feats of daring as would make " a circus rider grow pale." Again we have the building up, Irom small beginnings, of a great trade with many complex interests'and many oonfusing elements. The way these things are worked in America by political scheming and wire-pulling, the " hollow shock of ostensible bntflt—the speeches, the loud talk in lobbies, the newspaper \ilfiie, indignation, accusations.'' And then the real struggle, "earned on in furtive ways, in whispered words deli\eied hastily aside, in liotel halls on the way to and from the stairs, behind closed doors of rooms without open transoms." All the secret, underhand, backstairs influence which is brought to bear to obtain a concession" or to prevent another man from obtaining it. And back o! all this technical business knowledge, we find Mr Stewart White's special artistic gift, his love and understanding of Nature and his sympathv with her moods in "silent, places" of'flood, fell. and forest. In his pages the reader sees what "the rivennan" never sees, the unearthly beauty of the ice-bound forest, the mysterious stirring of Sprint : the myriad life waking from its slegg j the thousand birds, of. all

sorts and Uiiuls: "the groat, beautiful silver clouds sailing over the intensely blue sky like ships of a statelier aye." All these anil all oilier things which do not immediately concern his task " pass by the outer fringe of the riverman's consciousness, if, indeed, they reach him at all . . . are totally without actual existence lo these men.'' But our author sees them all, ami under his skilful manipulation t.he whole varied scene becomes instinct with reality: lives, moves, glows belore us. The v.'hiU' waters swirl; t-he logs jam; the men ride them like rivergods; the sun glows and sparkles, or the ruin descends, or Die icy winds blow. -And the vision stirs the biood and warms the sluggish pulses of the dweller in cities, until he feels for a moment as if lie, too, could do great deeds and dream great dreams in the waste places of the earth. " ITeliantlnis." By Onida. London: Macmillan and Co. (3s Gd, 2s 6d.) This is Uuida s last work, and at her death it was lound to be still incomplete, lint as the first 29 chapters were already in type, having been set up as they were written, if was judged best to publish them as they stood without alteration or addition. " tlelianthus 'is a semi-politi-cal romance of the present, time or the near future, in which majiy ot' the great personages ut' Europe appear under very thin disguises, it is u bitter commentary on many of the social and political conditions of the time. The author is severe. Her pen is dipped in gall. None can deny most of the abuses ot which she speaks; hut her work is wholly destructive. She suggests no remedy—indeed, according to her ideas the evil'is beyond remedy:—"individual character can change little in the lot of the multitude or in the burdens borne by them. Though Solomon in all his wisdom, or Trajan °n all his justice, were to reign al this actual time, ho could not alter by a hair's breadth, by a gramme's weight, the pressure ol poverty, the disparity of fates, the irony of circumstance, the brutality ol war, the satire of success, the vast misery of the majority." Jf this were true, such a book us " Helianthus" would he worse than useless—a morbid pandering to a realistic love of horror. Let us rather hope that the author's hatred of injustice and oppression may awaken an answering chord in many hearts, so Hint, what one man alone 'is powerless lo effect, many men working together may finally accomplish, "Hetty Beret-ford." By 1,. T. Meade. J/imion : Hwlder and Stoiiglitoi). Dim. Odin: ti. ,1. Stark and Co! (3s 6d, 2s 61.) Iletty Hereford is a small child of six. Uie daughter of rich mid noble p;iients, ami )i. :, r lather works hard to earn the money which his foolish, extravagant, beautiful wife sponds in lolly or worse. Lady Uercslord neglects her' child, and i" de-scribed as not even knowing her by sight, and little Hetty, pining" or a mothers lo\e, seeks* it in the squalid home and the dirty arms of the gin-sodden mother of one of her father's lowest servant.?, In this slum she contracts diplitkeiia. Lady Bcre.-tord' runs away fiom the disease in panic-stricken terror. She does not, however, but is herself overtaken by the iWI disease, and Hetty, recovering, and very weak from the anti-toxin treatment, crawls to her lliol her s bedside and ds-s there from the exertion. .Mrs blende is, as usual, extrcincly interii-Uvl in pathological symptom, 1 ; and thoir treatment, Hut it savs little tor Jier lespcd lor medtnt-trained nurses to suppose it possible for four of tlw?in (hvn to each patient) to have been to !li:-:r trust at the s;ulle time, and so have rendered possible Wie tragedy of which they well knew the dai!"t j r. licitv, herself, is " a charming little °kiddy " of tinearllily beauty and intelligence, and her mixture ol knowledge and ignoranee is exertmely fascinating to everyone except her mother. The story is a' strong indictment of flie worldly fa&hionable woman who ought never to he a parent. Fortunately (he picture has somo contrasts, ii.ni! Araminta .Sykos ami ilary Urev, though the one is only a drunkard of tile slums and the o'he.r an unmarried i'irl in liar tenii, have in litem t.lie spirit ot true motherhood, and the <l-cp .heart of love in which every little child recognises its true home. "The Wayfarer on the Open Road." By U. W. Tiine. London: Ueorge Beil and Sons. Duncdiu: Wliitcombe and Tombs, (Cloth, Is net.) lit this delight fid book the author of "In Tune with the. Infinite" gives us first " a. little creed of wholesome living," which will be familiar to the readers of his previous books, and then enlarges somewhat on eaclr clause. The result is a collection of briifht, sugge.s-t.ive, optimistic little articles admirably suited for the perusal of 'The Wayfarer'," bents iii-stiiut with life, and helpful, uplifting thought:— c A Creed " 'IV. be observed 10-d.iv. to be changed To-morrow, or abandoned, according To to-morrow's light," "Our Lady of the Decoration." London: Hodder ajid Stouglitou. Dtuieilia: R. •1. Stark and (.'o ami Xew Zealand Bible ami Tract Society. (A'ew edition: k 6d.) We have to thank several of our local firms for copies of the new and che:tp ed'itior of this popular and delightfully realistic little fctory, which was fully reviewed in this column on its first appearance, on August. 18, 1906.