AMONG THE BOOKS REVIEWS AND NOTES

Sun (Christchurch), Volume III, Issue 864, 16 November 1916, Page 3

AMONG THE BOOKS REVIEWS AND NOTES

War Office must pay instant heed, or the nation will know the reason why), the Parrotidgin, a cross between the parrot and the pigeon, which can deliver its message by word of mouth. The journal goes in for poetry, too; and that not only your trivial limericks. Someone neatly contrasts the Minnie whom he loved as a boy with the Minnie of another kind who now pesters him with unwelcome attentions. And someone else, in a poem called "Godspeed," follows the example of the editorial article, and seasons the view of lively fooling with a pinch .of that which an Englishman likes by fooling to conceal:— Rut we've also learnt, and 'tis good to know. That the pal of a dug-out's a friend worth while. For friendship made 'neatll the star-shell's glow Means "Help every lame dog over a stile." Now we have arrived in pastures new. Where the Hun's taking lessons that once he gave. Here's the hest of good luck to all of you In the teaching of blackguards how to behave. "In Pastures New"—the title of No. 1, Vol. I.—was not decided "for good and sufficient reason" when the editor wrote his leading article. By the time No. 2 is ready, where will the 24th Division be? And what will be the title of its exhilarating paper? Let us hope for a lot more "incorporation."

BOOKS REVIEWED

Stories of the Army. Amongst several books of good stories about the British Forces in France, there comes one through Messrs Whitcombc and Tombs which can be honestly recommended to every person who has a love for khaki, who has been the friend of a British officer, or who likes to enjoy a hearty laugh. The book is entitled "Phillip in Particular," and comprises a collection of short stories, most of which centre round a young lieutenant on the Staff—a junior brass-hat—who, to use his own nhrase, is "strong on brains." Owing to the fact that the War Office has not yet recognised his genius, he is not C.G.S.. and is not therefore entrusted with the planning of the "great push," but, nevertheless, he manages to exercise his own particular brand of ingenuity to some purpose. He is one of those immaculate, flawless, perfectly-creased young gentlemen, in whose presence even brigadiers escape notice—and he knows it. His adventures are diverting in the extreme—as, for instance, when he goes out, with no other company but a sergeant and a private, and captures a half-ruined building from a guard of Saxons, his observation and brain-work having led him to the conclusion that the building is the remains of an estaminet, and that there should be beer in the cellar. He is rewarded with four dozen of the best. "Phillip in Particular," which is published in cheap form by Simpkin, Marshall, Hamilton, Kent, and Co., Ltd., is a good investment. Craig Kennedy Again.

Although in Craig Kennedy, Arthur B. Reeve has not created a detective who can hold a place with Sherlock Holmes—whom thousands solemnly believe to be an actual living person —he has given those -who like this kind of literature a very interesting character. He has now written rather more than half a dozen Craig Kennedy books, and all of them are good. The last of them —published in a shilling edition by Hodder and Stoughton, and forwarded by Simpson and Williams—is well up to the standard of its predecessors. It takes its title from the first story, "The Poisoned Pen," and contains a long series of really interesting stories, some of which are worked out with a skill which is very closely akin to genius.

WAR JOURNALS.

TWO TYPES. Two war,journals of two very different kindsliebeforeus. OneisFrench; and unlike the Matthew Arnold in Mr Max Becrbohm's cartoon, it is almost wholly serious. The other is English, and it is so seldom serious that its lapses into gravity give the reader a catch in the throat, says "The Times." Is there an English equivalent to the "Bulletin des Armees de la Republique," which is printed in Paris, but "reserve a la zone des Armees"? We believe that there must be, for its usefulness is unmistakable. The copy before us is No. 200, the second year of publication. Apparently you may write from the front to the "Bulletin" about anything you want to know, and it will answer you, usually by a personal and private letter. The outer sheet of this number is full of practical information about soldiers' pay, and kindred matters. From its inner sheets we learn that it will examine and report on geological and other scientific specimens sent from the front; arrange exhibitions of soldiers' drawings (of which it publishes a few in this number); discuss literary topics and set entertaining puzzles and competitions. It has articles on the Bussian victories, on the work of the Comite de Secours Nationale; on clouds and meteorology; on German mine-laying submarines; on army cooking—all admirably done. It is intended to provide news and practical assistance, and also to keep the soldier in touch with the interests of civilisation and peace; and it docs its work in a spirit at once animated ami dignified, in the spirit which we should expect of a great nation and a great armv. The other journal, the English, is a notable instance of the spirit inseparable from another great nation and another great army—the laughing, "ragging" English. Will anyone ever dare again to say that we are a melancholy people? If, indeed, we take our pleasures sadly, we take our pains gladly. Look for a moment at "The Somme-Times, with which are incorporated the Wiper's Times, the 'New Church' Times, and the Kemmel Times." The incorporation has been speedy, for the SommeTimes itself swallowed all the others before ever it reached its No. 1, Vol. 1., July 31, 1910. No. 2 has not yet come to our hand; but we look forward to seeing what other eminent people it has secured for its staff, besides its special correspondent, Mr Tecch Bomas, whose description of a battlefield reminds us forcibly of the style of another eminent special correspondent with a somewhat similar name. We are pining, too, for another instalment of the serial story by Buby N. Dares, and, more than anything, for more advertisements. Who would not wish to try the famous cure for "optimism," or to be at the Contalmaison Opera House to see the "great spectacular drama, entitled 'There's One More River to Cross,' introducing the celebrated male impersonator, Little Willie," and Fritz, the original bottle-nosed comedian, in his new sketch, "I've had Somme?"

The Home Touch

The feminine interest is not forgotten. Besides Gilbert Frankau's clever verses on the female gossipcrs of other journals, the "SommeTimes" has its own "Chronicle of Fashions" by "Violet." Its correspondence columns contain one invaluable suggestion (to which the