Bookstall and Study.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18012, 24 November 1926, Page 14

Bookstall and Study.

FROM . . .

LITERARY NOTES. Mr Clement Shorter, whose death was announced on Monday, once declared that the men who have written best about children have been childless men. Sir Alan Cobham’s personal account of his latest achievement, “My Flight to Australia and Back,” has just been published by Messrs Black. Professor Rudolf Eucken, a winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, died recent] 3% at the age of SI. Mr J. B. Booth has another book of memories of bygone Bohemian days in London, entitled “ ‘Master* and Men — ‘Pink ’Un’ Yesterdays,” ready for publication. Messrs Quaritch, the original publishers of Fitz Gerald’s translation of Omar .Khayyam, announce a volume of “Letters from Edward Fitz Gerald to Bernard Quaritch, 1853-1883,” edited by Mr C. Quaritch Wrentmore. John Galsworthy spends most of his time on Dartmoor. There he may be seen playing cricket with the village team, sometimes in such rough weather that the players have to carry’ the bails in their pockets. Galsworthy writes mostly in the evenings and by candle light. ■ ■ Messrs Lonquian have just published an unconventional travel book, entitled “The President's Hat,” leading to Andorra, the remote Republic of the Pyrenees. The author, Mr Robert Herring. relates the adventures of two young men who set out from England on a walking tour to see, among other things, the President’s hat, which is kept in the . altar of the Council Chambers in Andorra. The narrative is illustrated by Mr Hubert Williams. “Secret and Confidential” is the title of the reminiscences of BrigadierGeneral W. H. H. Waters, C.V.0., C.M.G., which Sir John .Murray will publish. Most of the author’s experience as military, attache was in Russia and Germany, and he had intimate dealings with kings and emperors, ambassadors, Foreign Ministers, generals, leaders of society’, and even political prisoners in Siberia. j.; ♦.» Miss Nankivell chose the title for her first novel, “The Fourteen Thumbs of St. Peter,” from one of the many exhibits in the atheistic section of . a Russian “Wembley” held in 1023. In addition to the saint’s 14 thumbs there were in the collection several cases of Christ’s winding-sheet, and hearts and shin-bones of the saints collected from the churches throughout Russia.

Two centuries ago this year appeared the second volume of “A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates, from the First Rise and Settlement in the Island of Providence,” by Captain Charles' Johnson. Rputledge has now issued the first complete reprint of this thrilling work, which contains as minute an account of Blackboard as can be expected in the circumstances. Of all autobiographical treasures that have been lost to the world few are to* be more deplored than the disappearance of the log-book kept by Blackbeard, whose real- name was Teach. One scrap only of it remains, and runs as follows :—• 1718..—Rum all out. Our Company somewha sober.—; A damn’d Confusion amongst us!— : —Rogues a plotting—great Talk of Seperatlor?. So I look’d sharp for a Priiel Took one with a great deal of liquor on board, so kept the Company hot, damned hot, then all things went well again. Zane Grey, in his book on New Zealand fishing, “Tales of the Angler's Eldorado,” describes

his first meeting with the skylark: I heard an exquisite bird sing, but could not. locate the bird. The song seemed to be a combination o f mocking-bird melody, song-sparrow, and the sweet, plaintive note of the canyon swift. Presently I discovered I was iistempg to more than one bird, all singing the same beautiful song. . . . They sang until after dark; and in the grey dawn, at four o’clock ,they woke me from sound slumber. ♦,j From “ Excursions and Some Adventures,” a delightful record of the travels and adventures by Miss Etta Close, author of “ A Woman. Alone in Kenya”:—They were touring in Spain, and had arrived at - Cobadonga, a place famous as the scene of a last stand made by Christians against the Moors. Here they met Don Enrique, who had learnt his English at sea. lie announced with a beaming smile that he was “d—d glad to see us, that he had been sixteen years in the country, and it was the first time he had set his d—d eyes on English ladies.” The calm glare of mother's eyeglass failed to convey any message of danger, and he turned to introduce the party to a shy lay brother of a near-by monastrv. “ Now, then. you d—d old swine,” said Don Enrique, giving him a fearful bang on the back, “ show the ladies how well I have taught you the ——v- lingo.” With a beaming smile the poor lay brother held out his hand. “ I am d—d pleased to meet you,” he said. “ There.” said Don Enrique, dancing with excitement, “ didn’t I tell you he ; spoke English like a d—d native'?” From George the Fourth,” by Mr Shane Leslie: — Except in science and theology, the stamp and mould of Georgian men was greater. Georgian architecture has remained to reproach later schools. Gibbon's masterpiece has not been surpassed by any historian. The greatest of English hovels remains to the credit of Fielding, and the romance of Scott 1 outlives that of Stevenson. Even in [ caricature Rowlandson and Gillray, however coarse, make Tenniel seem insipid, while the line of Beardsley, though it may equal, does not surpass, that of Gruickshank. Characteristic of the reign of George the Fourth were the short-lived meteors Shelley and I Keats. Byron could only be a Regency poet, Miss Austen a Regency novelist, and ‘Vanity Fair” a Regency novel. The world of art collects the masters who painted for the Georgians and forgets the pre-f*aphaelites and Victorians who painted advertisements of soap or posters for the Oxford movement. Under Royal patronage flourished Romney, Raeburn, Lawrence, and it is always a pleasure to record the Regent’s admiration for the delicate work of Miss Jane Austen, who, in her limited field, remains the most perfect writer of English.

Mr D. M. Dow, official secretary to the Commissioner for Australia in the United States, writes to the “ New York Evening Post Literary Review”: Ruth Willis Thompson, in her “ Rambles round Bookshop Town,” records

the action of a gentleman who gave an order for books in Brentano’s, the extent of his requirements being indicated by a sweep of the hand, taking in “ this half of the store.” The prospective purchaser had escaped from his keeper. I can relate a story of a book buyer who did not have a keeper, though indifference in this respect on the part of the authorities may have been open to question. When—many years ago—the Duke of Edinburgh visited Australia, he was taken to a celebrated merino sheep-breeding district. A certain wealthy landowner was selected as host for the Rovai visitor, who was to be his guest for one day and one night. A few days before the Duke’s arrival, the landowner inspected his mansion with a view to discovering a possible absence of some feature essential to a residence about to be honoured by the presence of Royalty. There were no books. Of course, there should be a library. A rush order was despatched to Mullen’s in Melbourne to “ forward urgently one ton of books.” Mullen’s responded promptly—perhaps with indecent haste—and the Duke enjoyed his one night's hospitality in %n Australian rural home in which a vast collection of books had been made available for the use of his Royal 'Highness. Truly, a gracious, thoughtful and literary act on the part of the Australian sheepbreeder ! illlllllllllllllllllllllllllllillllllllHlllllllllll

—Avery Edwards in “Country Life.” Illllilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllillllllll Harold Spender was a conscientious and capable journalist, and his “ Fire of Life ” contains much excellent sentiment and many descriptions of interesting experience. It is recorded that some of his newspaper colleagues held curiously latitudinarian views about the ethics of their craft. He writes:— I once possessed a friend, a hard-bitr ten Scotch journalist, who carried the view that journalism is a branch of commerce, and that the journalist occupies the position of a barrister in a law court, to its logical conclusion by writing a Liberal London Letter before dinner, and a Tory leading article after dinner. He alwaj r s explained to me that he found this order more suitable to the nature of the views expressed. He felt more conservative after a bottle of good wine than before; which confirms the general impression that there is a deep-seated connection between good liquor and enthusiasm for the existing order. » :: Spender, however, believed that “ the very soul of the Fourth Estate depends on the conscience of the individual journalist ”; and he never wavered from the belief expressed in the following lines:— The only safe guidance for the Press is the public interest. Once that is deliberately. put aside in favour of profit, then the Press becomes a dangerous trade, to be scheduled, like white lead, under the Dangerous Trades Act, and placed, perhaps, under the censure of the League of Nations, for the only real justification for the privileges of the Fourth Estate, as we enjoy them in England, is that they are exercised in the public interest. Apropos of the term, “ Fourth Estate, it is perhaps not generally known that this expression was first used by Burke, who, in one of his speeches, stated that he considered that the three estates of the realm, the Lords Spiritual, the Lords Temporal and the Commons, w-ere eclipsed by a Fourth Estate, namely, the Press, which, in his opinion, exercise a greater power than any of the other three J 5 j.j }{ At the age of seventy-seven, with a vigouir hardly less remarkable than that of Mr Thomas Hardy at eightysix. Sir Edmund Gosse continues to hold the attention of his age as a practising writer, says John Drinkwater in the Bermondsey Book. In his long life he has distinguished himself in many fields of letters. As a critical essayist, he has for more than a generation delighted readers of fastidious taste, creating, it might almost be said, his own form, the Kit-Kat. “I have tried to product,” he has told us, “a combination of . pure criticism and pure biography, the life illustrated by the work, the work relieved by the life. Such criticism as is here attempted is not of the polemical order; the biography excludes that. We cease to be savage and caustic when we are acquainted with the inner existence of a man, for the relentlessness of satire is only possible to those who neither sympathise nor comprehend. What is here essayed is of the analytical, comparative, and descriptive order; it hopes to add something to historical knowledge and something to aesthetic appreciation. It aims, in short, at presenting a little gallery of . . . Kit-Kats, modest in proportion, but' large enough to show the head an the hand.” Of the grace and intuition with which Sir Edinund has been able to fulfil his intention we have evidence, not only in a long series of volumes but happily in the admirable causeries that he still contributes weekly to ‘‘The Sunday Times.” Maturity of judgment, humour, sensitiveness to style both in literature and character, have seldom in our critical lilerature been so fortunately combined. k

Howard Pressley, chief estate agent and “booster” in the small town of Milo, Indiana, is quite satisfied . with his lot in life until Gus Hardy arrives back from Central America. Ilis vivid tales of tropical nights, lovely women and stirring adventure, fire Pressley’s imagination and he sets out for Guatemala, where he at once gets mixed up in politics and revolutions. He meets with Ben Murchison, “shabby, thirsty old r Ben”—a soldier of fortune, who becomes his partner in a mahogany deal, a transaction which leads, to some very lively episodes such as are. usually associated with Central America. Mr C. E. Scoggins, in “The Red Gods Call,’' (Cassell and Co.) has given us a rapidly moving and exceedingly lively tale of happenings in a country where, even in these enlightened days, things still do happen. It is an entertaining story writte nby a man whose knowledge of the tropics is evidently first hand. The book, which has a strong vein of humour, will make excellent holiday reading. K Si Si

“Footsteps in the Night,” by C. Fraser-Simpson, is the story of a man who mixed up a sheaf of voting papers with an important secret document entrusted to him by the Home Office.

He sets out on his trip without; telling his wife his plans and is kidnapped by men employed to steal the secret document, which, fortunately for the hero, has been left, unwillingly,, at home with his wife, whom, in the end, he has to thank for getting him out of a very awkward and dangerous situation. This is a very exciting tale, and is a lesson to married men to tell their wives everything if they wish to escape trouble. Our copy comes from the publishers, Messrs Methuen and Co.

“Blue Lightning,” by Gregory Baxter, (Cassell and Co.) is an up-to-date thriller, dealing with world politics and the clash of the white and coloured races. A secret society, with a wealthy Eurasian at its head, plots to bring about the downfall of the white race. With the aid of a terrible death ray, the conspirators are playing havoc with the heads of the English Government until they are finally foiled by the hero, Keith Stanfield and his friend, Manvers, who form an amateur secret- service. There is a strong love interest, one of the most exciting events in a story that abounds in thrills being the rescue of the heroine from the clutches of a villainous Russian. Methuen and Co., Ltd., London, have sent a copy of a volume of verse, “Now and Then,” by General Sir lan Hamilton. There is, as is to be expected. humour, cleverness, and originality, but the bulk of the work falls below the level ol' poetry. Considered as the sentiments of a distinguished soldier who can write really good prose, “Now and Then” evokes interest and at times admiration, but the author probably would agree with others that though he writes clever verse he does not write much poetry. Many of the verses start off well, but thpre is often a sense of disappointment when the lilt of the lines fails, and the reader comes across some rugged scansion, an original but jarring metaphor, or a rhyme which is as clever as some of Gilbert’s, but no more poetic. The best verses are those written in 1911-13; those from 1883-5 are not so sophisticated, but full of the gloom which youth usually works into its verse, not very sincerely; and those of 1923 onwards regain the higher standard of the first batch “Now and Then” contains some good verse, and some average stuff, but Sir lan does not reach the high level he gains with his prose.

NONSENSE RHYMES. A lit.tle nonsense, like a little dining now and then, is relished h}' the best of men—but it must be clever nonsense, writes H. R. Malcolm, in “T.P.'s 'Weekly.” Ever since the great Edward Lear popularised the limerick it has been a favourite form of nonsense for two reasons: the first being that it is so easy, and the second being that it is so difficult. Mixed with a little of the saving grace of topicality, the easy play on spelling is quite amusing; for instance: It broke down the car of young Farquhar With ‘the night growing darquhar and darquhar, And in that sad plight He stayed there all night Saying, “If this were 'Yde Park I’d parquhar! ” Still more up to date is this one: A tigor, a fierce one you 'bet, Ate a man and his wireless set. When 2LO called The “tigc M was enthralled But he hasn’t a license yetTherc is a sound hint for all pupils of journalistic . correspondence courses here: A reporter while searching for news Saw a dog bite a man in the “trews,’* To get “that. fresh angle’’ He yndid the tangle, Chased the man off, and got the dog’s views! The chief thrill of limerick . making for fun is obtained by finding rhymes or, rather, compelling rhymes to emerge from' uncompromising words. Take “Kirkcudbright,” pronounced “Kirkoobray”: A lunatic lived in Kirkcudbright, And when he was asked “Who are yud prighl?'’’ He would say,-“l’m a sardine That’s swum from Kincardine,” Which, of course, was all sheer nincomputpright! Advocates of reformed spelling could preach many a sermon in limerick; for instance; Now here is a problem that's subtle. Is it better for butlers to bubtlc, Or giving up bubtlery Start selling cutlery. And learn just how cutlers should cubtle? The idiocy of the tourist and the inexperienced holiday-maker are epitomised in a tragic fable: A Cockney whilst climbing Mont Blanc, Started singing and frisking alanc, He fell down a crevasse— Said his guide, “Now alasse! I’m afraid you have sung your Swont And here, perhaps, is the best — A brave mother dog of Gorstorphine Once swallowed a large dose of morphine. Thus preventing her pup P’rom gobbling it up— Would you like to adopt a sweet orphine ?