A LITERAY LOG

Southland Times, Issue 21820, 24 September 1932, Page 11

A LITERAY LOG

1 ROLLED BY

IOTA.

BOOKS ON THE TABLE “Westward Passage” .... .... (Margaret Ayer Barnes) “No Quarter” (Alec Waugh) “Oh Doctor!” _. „.. .... (Edward Samson) “Land Valuation and Prices” (I. W. Weston)

DIVORCE RECONSIDERED A Brilliant Ship Comedy. O bright! To permit a divorced couple to fall in love with each other does not ensure a piquant situation, but it. affords opportunities for piquancy, as well as for reflective criticism of the foundations of domestic union and divorce which are of high importance in this age. The re-union of divorced couples has been used often, but usually for farcical ventures, as in the case of “Private Lives,” one of Noel Coward’s numerous examples of the way in which a rough-and-tumble can be foisted on the public as dramatic material; But Margaret Ayer Barnes has used it for high comedy, displaying a sense of humour, of taste, and. of humanity which makes Coward sound like a smart but cheap exploiter conjuring tricks. She won the Pulitzer prize with her first novel “Years of Grace,” but “Westward Passage,” though not so solid, is an infinitely better work because it reveals a lighter touch and a more confident handling of dialogue and situation. There are some delicious moments in this story of the shipboard meeting of Olivia and Nicholas ten years after their divorce and when both have won improved status, for Olivia has a rich husband, and Nicholas has risen from the nagging struggle of their married life to the affluence and assurance of a successful novelist, but in spite of its brightness it leaves with one the memory of a near tragedy and of the brittle substance of romance. Accident brought Olivia and her first husband together on the liner Atlanta, she returning from a trip to Europe to her rich, kindly husband in Chicago, and he going to America to work on a new novel. Olivia is in the role of the erring wife—but if it was a kiss in a taxi which led to her decision to go off with Harry, it was Nick’s almost total immersion in his literary work (their one means of livelihood) which made her ready to accept that kiss and seek the more articulate affection the rich stockbroker could give. Nick was not built to stand the racket of domesticity complicated by a young child, and when Olivia announced that she was going off with Harry, there was no fight, no effort to keep her—just a resentful acceptance of the fact. But with Olivia gone Nick worked better and won. Perhaps, “Westward Passage” might be accepted as a powerful argument for late marriage, for marriage after achievement, in preference to marriage as a prelude to economic strife. Inferentially Margaret Barnes presents again the case that genius for its full display requires tranquility as a refuge from the distractions of living. Meeting again in the Atlanta, thrown together for several days, and conscious of. the presence of gossipy friends, it was certain that once they had touched hands there was danger. What did they want? This was no steamship flirtation, it was not designed, except by the gods, but it brought with it a challenge, and it let loose emotions that had been pent or latent in them both. Nicholas is the glorification of the Nick she left, and she, enhanced by the decoration wealth can give a woman, was a discovered divinity. They knew that the near poverty of their early marriage, the closeness of everything in a cramped apartment had made happiness impossible; but now the present held all that the past had wanted. Nick, gay and human, enthusiastic over his grown daughter, dealing with awkward situations as a man of quick understanding, and touching everything with romance; Olivia beginning to wonder if life is slipping away, a prey to doubts, to regrets and to the glamour of a lover who can call up romantic memories to accompany romantic prophecy. And so they elope, and go to the idyll on his New Zealand farm, where reality awaits them, introduced by the materialist Suki. There Olivia discovers that she is not made of the stuff required to wive genius, and so the mirage dissolves and the stronger possession of Harry is hers. The incompatability which separated them was in truth in both of them, and time could not change these fundamentals sufficiently to permit them to capture romance once escaped through the window.

“Westward Passage” is told with a sparkle of wit. It is substantial, but its substance does not weight its comedy, and the laughter it provokes does not hide the body of the novel. Margaret Barnes has touched life and people with understanding. The story is told from the standpoint of OliviaJ though not by her, and the characterisation of these two is moving right up to the last page. Only a woman could have conceived “Westward Passage,” but only a clever woman, an experienced woman, could have written it so brilliantly. “Westward Passage,” by Margaret Ayer Barnes, is published by Messrs Jonathan Cape, Ltd., London, my copy through Hyndman’s Ltd., Dee street. 00000 THE BLOOD OF BUCCANEERS At the close of the war Francois Doublon, at the head of a big business in France, made proposals to his directors which involved a gamble with law-breaking. It was the advice of a descendant of men “who went ruthlessly for the thing they wanted; who had no use for what was smug and easy.” It was hard to recognize in this man who proposed to sell the public the same shares twice, any kinship with the bearded cut-throats who two and a half centuries back had plundered Maracarbo and burnt Panama. But the same blood ran through their veins. That old spirit of the Buccaneers who neither asked for quarter nor gave it; whose motto was no prey no pay .... Where his forefathers had launched frigates, he floated companies Tnd at the same time “Beak-nose Othie” his cousin had become prominent as a gunman in Chicago who had “shot a man sitting in the stalls of a theatre and had walked quietly out.” It is the purpose of Alec Waugh’s “No Quarter” to trace the causes of this modern buccaneering from the day that Roger Vaisslau, the illegitimate son of the gallant Chevalier de Monterey and a French peasant girl, had sailed from France under an assumed name and had joined the pirates at Tortuga. In the West Indies Vaisseau and his descendants prospered. Edouard, Roger’s grandson, became a slave trader and was lost at. sea in 1719 and his grandson, Philippe, whose mother was a mulatto, was killed in the massacre at Cap Francois in 1804, when the descendants of the slaves revolted against the whites in Haiti. Richard Gastoneau, the grandson of Edouard’s brother, was killed with him. But Richard’s daughter, Gay, had gone to France, and from her descended Clive Doublon, killed in the Martinique disaster of 1902. And Beak-nose Othie

was her great-great-grandson. This is a swift chronicle, packed with dramatic episodes staged against a rich background, and dealing with divergent courses of the descendants of the piratical Roger who suffered under the handicaps of black blood, and those who belonged to the whites. Some of the characters and incidents are drawn with a few bold strokes, over others the author lingers long enough to fill in the details and make his picture complete, but a’ all times he keeps the narrative to its main purpose, and presents lucidly the entries and exits of the host of characters who are necesary to supply the explanation of Francois Vaisseau, who served in France during the European War under an assumed name and fought as his blood dictated. At Verdun he was in charge of a machine gun post, accidentally placed precariously but valuably in isolation. There Francois was in such a mood of excitement, of self-fulfilment as Roger Vaisseau had known when the Bordelais had sailed round the wall of rock toward the Chateau d’lf; as had touched Edouard Gastoneau when he had hesitated, his finger on the trigger, with the chattering savages ten paces off; as had fired Philippe with indignation on the night of massacre; as had sustained Comette Camier as she had taken her last look at her girlhood’s bedroom; as his own father had known on that last morning at St Pierre.

Waugh has piled his material in wonderful profusion, and he has managed it so skilfully that the individualism of all the people is preserved while th chronicle, clinging to history, gallops through three centuries. This book is very much alive. It is written with a vigour, with a sense of drama, of poetry and with a luxury of colour that make it one of the most striking novels of the year. Certainly it is the boldest and the most effective work Waugh has done in recent years. It is a novel to keep for re-reading. “No Quarter” by Alec Waugh, is published by Messrs Cassell and Co., London, whence came my copy.

AT THE DOCTOR’S EXPENSE

Here is a lively bunch of lively letters written (ostensibly) by a young doctor rising above the basement in Harley Street, doctor young enough to retain his ’varsity humour, his readiness to see something funny in solid institutions and his admission of the frailty of doctors. Edward Samson who is responsible for “Oh Doctor!” has a gay humour. He takes these shots at doctors, at patients, at the world with the gusto of a man who has a hearty, infectious laugh, and whose wit is never too salty. These letters, written to an unexplained “Tim” narrate the descent of Hector Binks on Harley Street, and his adventures there while he is endeavouring to establish himself in the confidence of unhealthy people. There are bushels of revelations. This about death is typical: You must not imagine we actually have a duel to the finish with Death over the patient’s bed. That is a very exploded theory, and very allegorical and G. F. Watts and so forth. To-day we are armed with radium and vaccines, quaint rays and hundreds of unknown quantities, like vitamins, harmones and similar subtleties, that only a couple of specialists and the doctor can understand. Even then it takes them weeks, and sometimes the patient gets tired of waiting and dies quietly without saying a word. At such times we realize how little man knows—at all others we never admit it

He has a grievance against the patient who dropped dead in the waiting room without consulting him and finds the explanation of this lack of faith in the patient’s name—McNab. There are hosts of jibes to tickle the doctors in these pages and many to allow us to laugh at the doctor’s' expense which is quite reasonable, because if many of us die at the doctor’s expense, more of us live on the same basis. Edward Samson has a joyous humour. The adventure with the asthmatical actress who wanted to rise on the legitimate stage is gorgeous stuff: She had been haunted by asthma all her life—a terrible handicap. Of course for dancing it didn’t matter; if she did become the least bit wheezy she could always syncopate the wheezes in time with the orchestra. And when she had to sing, it was only American songs which were more popular with just that sob-pro-ducing catch in the voice. But oh Doctor! on the legitimate stage she was wheezing every part to extinction, and whistling her name to ridicule. And he cured her—cured asthma despite the fact that “some of the best brains have grappled with it for years, and some of the others have lived on it for centuries.” It is a joyous business looking over Tim’s shoulder and reading these letters, which. supply just the sort of tonic one needs in these times—better than a reduction in taxation, because you can get it. “Oh Doctor!” by Edward Samson, is published by Messrs John Murray Ltd., London, my copy through Hyndman’s Ltd., Dee street. OC’OOO FIRST AID FOR FARMERS When a man 'thinks of taking up land, he quickly comes to realize that he is entering a business far more complicated than he thought, and one of the most serious of his difficulties is the computation of the real value of the land he wishes to buy or has bought. When he has entered upon farming the obstruse subject of costing besets him. As an aid to him Dr I. W. Weston, lecturer in Farm Economics at Lincoln College, has produced “Land Valuation and Prices in New Zealand.” This work is written for farmers, and it covers the wide field of farm accountancy, one of the most vital but most neglected branches of farm management. The qualifications of a farmer, the sources from which he can obtain capital, the procedure in connection with the acquisition of land, points to watch in arriving at land valuations and determinging productive values, the use. of the Farmers’ Account Book, the causes of price changes and purchasing power are dealt with in direct and non-technical language. In the appendfr; too, there is information about government valuations and the methods by which a land owner can obtain alterations in the value assessed for taxation purposes. An extremely valuable work, one which will save farmers a lot of worrying and a great deal of money. “Land Valuation and Prices in New

Zealand” by I. W. Weston, published by Messrs Whitcombe and Toombs, Christchurch, my copy from the publishers.