PROPHETS IN THEIR OWN COUNTRY

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22712, 26 October 1935, Page 21

PROPHETS IN THEIR OWN COUNTRY

THOUGHTS INDUCED BY AUTHORS’ WEEK By C. R. Allen. A prophet is, strictly speaking, one who gives utterance on behalf of a cause or a community. Of such are some at least of the authors represented in a stand to be seen in the Dunedin Free Public Library. This column is written after the briefest survey of that stand, and the writer must perforce rely on his memory. It is not intended to raise the olt-re-peated cry, ‘‘A prophet is not honour, save in his own country.” Complaints about the neglect of New Zealand authors by New Zealand readers are apt to grow a little tiresome. All that is attempted here is a brief appreciation ol certain authors ‘who, if not New Zealanders born, have made New Zealand, in a measure, their theme. . . . Miss Edith Howes, who contributes a story to the Christmas number of the Otago Witness, has secured for herself a place in modern letters which may be described as international. The books upon which her fame may be said to rest were evolved in the process of her work as a teacher. She began to earn her living as a primary school teacher at a very early age. Her scientific bent is a family trait. Like Charles Kingsley, she has mingled scientific truth with fanciful grace. The Sun’s Babies ” had its origins in a senes of Nature stories written primarily for the instruction of her pupils. Her small audience in a New Zealand country school has grown to a concourse which would amaze one if it were possible to compute its numbers and to realise its variety. There is a country school in the neighbourhood of the university town of Cambridge, for instance, where the children, who may probably never hear of the Cambridge poet who celebrated the neighbouring villages of Royston, Harston, and Ditton, are familiar with the name of Edith Howes, This is but an isolated instance of the extent of her influence. It will not be averred that Miss Howes is without honour in the country of her adoption. When a bookshop was opened some two or three years ago in Invercargill Miss Howes was invited to be present, and she signed a number of her books for purchasers who were glad of the opportunity of meeting the author of “ The Cradle Ship,” “ Sandals of Pearls,” “ The Golden Forest," and “The Great Experiment.” In the Old Country it has been the habit of certain booksellers to invite authors to their premises to discourse on a literary subject. Thus there is established something more than a reading acquaintance between author and reader. .Harold Monro when he presided over the Poetry Bookshop in London made that pleasant haunt a rendezvous for poets and lovers of poetry. One may ask oneself if something analogous maynot be the outcome of the present display in the Dunedin Free Public Library, In recent years Miss Howes has given proof of her versatility. She has turned her attention to the stage, with the result that her three-act play, “ Rose Lane,” won the prize offered in England by the British Drama League. Her light opera. “Go As You Please,” won the unstinted approval of Sir Edward German, who said that if he were a younger man he would like to set it to music. The lyrics of “Go As You Please ” provide another instance of the literary resource of Miss Howes. Hector Bolitho, who is represented on the stand by “ The Flame of Ithnadova, and possibly by other works, has penetrated into the presence of the Duce himself, as he may read who secures for himself a copy of “The Older People," a series of character sketches such as were rendered popular by such writers as E. T. Raymond and Gerald Cumberland. Mr Bolitho’s evolution from a New Zealand journalist to one of the foremost biographers of hie day is interesting. In his novel “ Solemn Boy,’’ Mr Bolitho drew a picture of life in the Gisborne nis trict which, if somewhat roseate in tint, is, nevertheless, full of interest. _ Ihe novel goes on to describe the vicissitudes of a young journalist’s career in New Zealand and afterwards in the South Sea Islands and Australia. Mr Bolitho has written of the New Zealand Christmas with almost Dickensian gusto “ The Flame of Ithnadova ” calls to mma “The Gathering of Brother Hilarius. Michael Fairlese was an invalid, and it may be that for that reason an excess of pigment is discernible in this senumystical story. Mr Bolitho has probably outgrown the literary style which marks those earlier books. As a biographer he would seem to represent a reaction against the craving for disillusionment which set in when the late Lytton Strachey established his pre-eminence in this field of literary endeavour. , As a biographer Mr Bolitho is more akin to Mr St. John Ervine, whose “ God’s Soldier,” a study of General Booth, is more in keeping with the admonition, “ Let us now praise famous men,” than are the biographies of Lytton Strachey or Mr Philip Guedalla. It will be remembered that Mr Ervine put out a collection of biographical studies entitled “ Some of My Elders." Whether or no Jane Mander is represented on the shelf in question, she is certainly a writer who deserves well of her country. A daughter of a former member of the House of Representatives in the North Island, Miss Mander went to America, where she was engaged in social work. Her novel, “The Story of a New Zealand River,” was published a number of years ago. There is a prospect of its reissue in Australia early next year. It is hoped that this book will win the recognition it deserves in the course of New Zealand Authors’ Week. Miss Mander established herself in London as a novelist whose work was praised by a discerning circle. She enjoyed the friendship of that supreme literary artist who writes under the 1101.1 de plume ot Henry Handel Richardson. Miss Mander is a champion of the work of this writer, who will be justified in the years to come. She has, perhaps, ns good a knowledge of the inwardness ot publishing in London as any New Zealand writer, as she has been employed as reader to a literary agent whose reputation is Empire-wide. Miss Mander is an artist at heart. Distrustful of the facile success, she would seem to act on the old adage that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains. Miss Mander is one of those New Zealand writers to whom one might profitably listen in the course of New Zealand Authors’ Week.