Review.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 6241, 13 June 1890, Page 3

Review.

“ For So Lillie The Slory of a Crime. By Helen Dads. Loudon ; Swan Son • nenschein cf - Co,, Paternoster Square, 1890.

This is a book concerning which many rumours were afloat in New Zealand some months before it saw the light under the auspices of the well known London publishing firm whose name appears on the title page. IE these rumours had the effect of stirring up curiosity in some quarters, in others they perhaps tended rather to injure the prospects of the work. Though tho* memory of the atrocious crimes, which were alleged to be the basis of the story, had not died out, they had censed to he a nine days’ wonder; the law had dealt with the criminal, and his place knew him no more ; and regard for the feelings of many very estimable people seemed to demand, or at least suggest, that the miserable drama in which ho had played so prominent a part should not be reproduced in the pages of a novel. Such was the opinion freely expressed in New Zealand when it was staled that a book, based on materials furnished by two of the most sensational trials ever held in the colony, was shortly to make its appearance We know not why (unless, indeed, it was on account of the subject chosen), but it is a fact that the novel-reading public did not anticipate high-class artistic work. They looked for something in the shape of a “ shilling shocker, ’’ but on a more extended scale than usual, and with the agony perhaps piled a lit tie higher. Ibus the book suffered in the estimation of many people before it was published ; and possibly the adverse forecast may have affecled its circulation (though wo do not know that it has been so) in the few weeks during which the novel has been obtainable in the colony. Now we have not a word to say with regard to the

choice of tire subject, except that the authoress had a perfect right to please herself, and that, it she were disposed to enter a defence, she could quote the names of . a., host of literary celebrities who have made great and even vulgar crimes the groundwork pf their artistic labours. What Mrs Davis can claim is that her work shall be judged on its merits, and quite irrespective of the fact that, to some extent, she has utilised the incidents of two New Zealand trials for poisoning, as well as the train of remarkable circumstances which led tp them. Op to the present time we have seen no review of this book in New Zealand, and we know that in more than one instance the reviewers have held their hands for no other reason than a dread of giving offence in certain quarters. We should be sorry to have to make such a confession for ourselves, and wo trust that our contemporaries will awake to a sense of their duty. In the past they have now and then reviewed some sorry stuff, and have not hesitated to pronounce it very good, being prompted thereto, we presume, by philanthropic motives, and a keen desire to do the best for “ colonial industry.” But there can be no straining of the conscience in making a favourable report of Mrs Davis’ look, for it really deserves it. It is very far indeed from being a vulgar and sensational hash up of the crimes to which we have alluded. It is beyond question a powerful and well written novel, and though we

understand that it is the first effort of the sort which the talented authoress has made, the workmanship is in many respects oi_a character which would have done credit to a veteran novelist. The brilliancy and freshness of the dialogue is specially remarkable, and Mrs Davis possesses the valuable faculty of making her story march by means of what her men and women have to say for themselves. There is no lack of narrative properly so culled —narrative terse, clear, and to the point—, and there are also some good bits of descriptive writing. But the dialogue, put into the mouths of sharply outlined characters, helps on the story wonderfully, so that there is not a page which drags or can be considered superfluous. This no doubt is high praise, but it is deserved, and wo are sure that the novel-reading public will endorse our verdict. We shall not attempt to give an outline of the story as it is told by Mrs Davis. In its one great leading feature it is known to Now Zealanders already, but

beyond that there are great divergencies from the train of events which startled the colony a few short years ago. The second title of the book —“The Story of a Crime”— does not strike us as being particularly happy. It is true that “ For So Little ” embodies the story of a crime, but it docs a great deal more than that. In the leading character, Lawrence Maher, we have a fine psychological study, which is elaborated with great skill. But it is a striking and general merit of the book that all the dramatis persona are clearly and incisively portrayed. We must say emphatically that, with one exception, they are not the actors of the Timaru drama. They are Mrs Davis’ own creations, and each creation is excellent, of its kind. The scone is laid in Australia, and there is but one allusion to Now Zealand—to some speculative borings for oil at Gisborne Wo shall conclude this brief notice by telling down that, in our humble judgment, “ For So Little ” is by fur the best Australasian novel that has yet appeared j and, as it was the work of a new authoress, the ease and speed with which it found an excellent publisher in London may be taken as a indication that its merits are conspicuous.