BOOKS OF THE DAY.

Otago Witness, Issue 3864, 3 April 1928, Page 74

BOOKS OF THE DAY.

TWO GREAT LOVERS. “Domnei.” By James Branch Cabell. (Cloth, 7s 6d net.) London: JohnLane (the Bodley Head, Ltd.). James Branch Cabell has achieved power which is sought after by many writers—that of commanding notice. His modern novels, such as “ The Rivet in Grandfather’s Neck,” “The Cords of Vanity,” .and in some respects, “ The Cream of the Jest” are noteworthy for their brilliance and irony and beautv; his medieval romances, such as “Jurgen,” “Figures of Earth,” “The Silver Stallion,” and “ Something About Eve” attract for these, but other reasons as well. They are what is called in afternoon-tea circles “ daring.” Treating on subjects generally not° discussed in polite company, they have no compunctions about tearing away every veil that covers such subjects and revealing them there in bold nakedness. True, they deal in symbols instead of actual facts; but even so they are “daring.” As a consequence, the idea that James Branch Cabell is incapable of producing a work that is not in some way flavoured with this “darjng” has taken hold on the reading public with such effect that half of the people rush forward to buy his latest books as soon as they appear, while the other half, much as it likes good literature, refuses to have anything to do with him. “ Domnei ” will come as a surprise to both sections. It is called “ a comedy of woman worship.” “ The complications of opinions and ideas, of affections and habits, which prompted the chevalier to devote himself to the service of a lady, and by which he strove to prove to her his love, and to merit hers in return, was expressed, in the language of the Troubadours, by the single word, ‘ domnei,’ a derivation of ‘ domna,’ which may be regarded as an alteration of the Latin ‘ domina,’ lady or mistress.” Janies Branch Cabell’s book tells of the love of Perion of the Forest for Melicent, the daughter of Dorn Manuel of Poictesme.

Unless one will accept the fact that there is a higher type of love than that of the senses . this romance will be meaningless. “ The worshipping devotion conceived by Plato and elevated to a living faith in mediaeval France ” is less obviously recognised in modern times than it used to be. But does it not secretly still exist in the hearts of all men'and women? Granted that it does, and that for everybody there is an ideal which grows in beauty because it is unattainable, . “ Domnei ” will be read and appreciated. For it is one of the loveliest things that has come into literature. “ The entire shelf of James Branch Cabell’s books,” says Joseph Hergesheinier, who writes a preface, “ dedicated to an unquenchable masculine idealism, has, as well, a paradoxical place in an age of material sentimentality. Compared with the novels of the moment, ‘ Domnei ’ is an isolated, heroic fragment of a vastly deeper and higher structure. And, of its many aspects, it is not impossible that the highest, rising over even its heavenly vision, is the rare, the simple fortitude of its statement.” “ Domnei ” tells a tale which is akin to " Aucassin and Nicolette ” in its charm and appeal. And yet, where “ Aucassin and Nicolette ” is merely a narration of

facts, “ Domnei ” is also a narration of motives. It achieves to what is a necessary standard in the literature of today, and becomes, not only descriptive, but psychological as well. But it does so only by suggestion or by silence; never by deliberate means. It to a degree. And yet it leaves the reader with a score of complex emotions. Perion, the perfect lover; Demetrios, the mighty pagan; Ah'asueris, the Jew, whose workings are incomprehensible, and Melicent, the white lady of these three men’s dreams—move through a story of chivalry, and idealism with unfaltering tread. The minor characters are in keeping, and the whole makes a pattern as rich as that of rare tapestry. “ Domnei ” is likely to make (James Branch Cabell command more notice than ever. It is an achievement.

A TALE. OF SOUTH AFRICA. “An Artist in the Family.” By Sarah Gertrude Millin. (Cloth, 6s net.) London: Constable and Co. The style of this book is that used so well by David Garnett and others of his school—the simple, unadorned style of presenting facts exactly as they happen without resort to any subtlety whatever. To begin with, it perplexes. Then one finds oneself growing more anu more pleased with it, until, finally, it has completely caught one in its spell. The'story is as simple as the style. It tells of Mr and Mrs Bissaker, who live on a farm across the Transvaal village of Verdriet, in South Africa, and who have two sous: the elder, Tom, married, and living in a house of his own on the farm; and the younger, Theo., at Cambridge. Mr Bissaker feels rather sceptical about Theo., v>ho in two and a-half years has cost him over £1200; but Mrs Bissaker has full faith in him, although she knows that he prefers painting to study. Theo, suddenly appears to inform his parents that he has not been at Cambridge at all, : ut in Europe, studying art, and that now he has come back to Africa, accompanied by his wife Mildred and her child. He married her because she appealed to his pity when she told him the tale of her illegitimate son. The Bissakers manage to survive the shock, and receive the family at the farm. But there is no harmony in the result. Mildred is a vacuous chattel; Theo, is As impractical and quixotic as he is a bad artist.

Two American negro missionaries are in the district. They are ostracised by the other white people, but Theo becomes friendly with them, and offers to paint them a picture. He does so, shewing a negro Christ on the cross, buc finds that they are as upset about his conception of things as are the white people. He realises the difference between their idea and his, and goes away to Johannesburg to find different work, Mildred and her child having left him after months of unhappiness, jealousy, and incompatability. Mrs Bissaker fears she has cancer, and, going to Johannesburg with her husband, sees Theo, ai.e tells ’ iin that if she could afford it she would go over to London to be operated on by a fpcciu>. o ., but, as it is, she has no money. >So Theo., who is working in a mine, deliberately blows off three fingers of his right hand with a charge of dynamite so that he shall not paint any more, receives compensation money, and gives it to his mother, who, ironically enough, does not need it, her complaint not being cancer at all.

The point of the story lies in Theo.’s character, which bit by bit is unfolded, until at last it Is fully revealed. In Johannesburg, although he :ould have afforded betters ones, he is living in most ■miserable rooms. “ His peculiar sense of romance found satisfaction i the underworld contiguity. This, he told himself, was life. He spoke to all the people he met in the building with an exhilarated humility and a conscientiously invoked feeling of brotherhood. He enjoyed his misery. He looked at himself from the outside, and thought how strange and noble he was. He had married Mildred in the same spirit.” Mrs Bissaker sympathises with him in all his doings. Her husband is less lenient. When Theo, blew off his fingers his father “ thought how often, if one had to live with the fruits of it, one came to regret a sacrifice. One day Theo, would come to hate his mother because he had done this thing for her, and because at the root of his mind there was, in truth, no love for anything, no desire for anything, but his work. An J yet even here he failed. Fate had bestowed on him the impulse and the passion, but not the genius.” It is a clever and clear-seeing book. As a picture of South Africa it is valuable for its sincerity, and as,a characterstudy of a pseudo-artist ; t stands high in the ranks of modern fiction. THE WEEK-END LIBRARY. “ Unaddressed Letters.” By Sir Frank Swettenham. “ Heretics.” By G. K. Chesterton. (Each cloth, 3s fid net.) London: John Lane, the Bodley Head, Ltd. (The Weekend Library.) We have already given notice in these columns of seven of the volumes of the new Week-end Library evolved by John Lane; the above are two more additions to it. -Both are printed clearly on parehment-like paper between serviceable gold-lettered red covers, and both are attractive from the point of view of art and of size. “Unaddressed Letters,” with their bright, alert, and varied appeal, have already gone into 10 editions: “ Heretics,” brilliant, joyous,

and witty, into 12. There is thus every reason to suppose that they will be successful in their latest guise as two of a series of books of established reputation.