BOOK CORNER

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 74, Issue 144, 20 June 1931, Page 2 (Supplement)

BOOK CORNER

REVIEWS THE KOAD BACK, by Erich Maria Remarque (Putman). This is the most pathetic record of humanity that has been penned for years. Pathetic writings are usually fashioned to make an appeal. There is no such intention on the part of Remarque. He simply put§ down plainly (a plainness which the translator might have tempered in some instances for English readers) the adventures and the emotions of a little band of German soldiers who were on the Western Front when the- Armistice was agreed to, of their tramp back to Germany, of their awful home-coming, of riots and revolution, of the futility of life itself to these men who had spent four years in warfare when the war had ceased. As with “All Quiet on the Western Front” so with “The Road Back” there are items that must be regarded as repulsive. Their omission need not have made the narrative less true. Peace having been declared the men start marching back. Remarque is impressed by the inadequacy of the care of the wounded. It is the same story as Frey tells in “The Cross Bearers,” and then amid the welter and futility the folloving scene is enacted: “In the afternoon we are sitting around in a brewery yard. From the oilice of the factory comes our company commander, Lieutenant Heel, and calls us together. An order has come through that representatives are to be elected from the ranks. We are astonished. No one has ever heard of such a thing before “Then Max Weil appears in the courtyard, waving a newspaper and shouting: ‘There’s revolution in Berlin!” “Heel swings round. ‘Rubbish,’ he gays sharply. ‘There are disturbances in Berlin.’ “But Weil has not done yet. ‘The Kaiser’s fled to Holland!’ “That wakes us up. Weil must be mad, surely. Heel turns fiery red. ‘Damned liar!’ he roars. “ Weil hands him the paper. Heel screws it up and glares furiously at Weil. Ho cannot bear Weil, for Weil is a Jew, a quiet fellow who is always sitting about, reading. But Heel is a fire-eater. “ ‘All talk,’ he growls and looks at Weil as if he would choke him. “Max unbuttons his tunic and produces yet another special edition. Hee] glances at it, tears it to bits and goes back into his billet. Weil gathers up the- shreds of his newspaper, pieces them together and reads us the news. And we just sit there like a row of sotted hens. This is clean beyond our comprehension. “ ‘lt says, he wanted to avoid a civil war,’ says Weil “‘What rot!’ snaps Kosole. ‘Supposing we had said that awhile back, eh? Well, I’ll be damned! So that’s what we’ve been holding out here for?’ “ ‘Jupp,’ says Bethke shaking his head, ‘just give me a dig in the ribs, will you, and see if I'm still -here.’ Jupp establishes the fact. ‘Then it must be so, no doubt,’ continues Bethke. ‘All the same I don’t quite catch on to the idea. Why, if one of us had done that, they would have stood him up against the wall.’ “ ‘Best not think of Wessling and; Schroder now,’ mutters Kosole, clenching his fists, ‘else I’ll run amok. Poor little Schroder, a mere kid, and there, he lay all bashed to a jelly —and the man he died for just cuts and runs! Dirty scum! ’ Suddenly he sends his heels crashing against a beer cask.” These men go home. So anxious are they when they get to the railway that some seat themselves on the roof and some on the buffers. Only to be killed as soon as the train moves on its way. At home they are set upon by people moved by the revolutionary fire that runs through the country. Home! how petty it all is. The details of family life pall on them. They go out of doors, seek each other, finding in comradeship some support. But Germany in defeat and disaster has no place for them to fit into. One goes back to the battlefield and shoots himself. He belongs there, —there is no road back to civilization for him. But those who stay find the way back. Here is the narrator’s own case:— “Now I sit here before my mother, and she is on the verge of tears because she cannot understand that 1 should have become so coarse as to make use of an improper expression. “ ‘Ernst,’ she says gently, ‘I have been meaning to say this to you for some time: You have changed. You have become very restless.’ “Changed! I think bitterly; yes, I have changed! What is it you know of me now r , mother? A mere- memory, nothing but the memory of a quiet, eager youth of the days that are gone. You must never know, mother, never know of these last years; never even wonder what they were like, and much less what has become of me. A hundredth part would break your heart, you, who tremble and are shocked by the impact of a mere word, one word that has been enough to shatter your picture of me. ‘Things will be better soon,’ I say rather helplessly, and try to comfort myself with that. “She sits down beside me and strokes my hands. I take them away. She looks at me grieved. ‘You are quite strange to mo sometimes, Ernst,’ she says. ‘Then you have such a look that I hardly recognise.’ “ ‘I must get used to things first, mother,’ I say. ‘I still keep feeling as if I were merely here on a visit.’ . . . “My mother leans back in her chair. ‘Just to think you have come back again. Ernst ’ “‘Yes, that’s the main thing,’ 1 say, and stand up. “She remains seated in her corner, a little figure in the twilight; and with strange tenderness I see how all at once our roles have been interchanged. Now it is she has become the child.” I think, reader, thar you will agree that this is great writing. There arc some very graphic descriptions of incidents and adventures that must move the reader. The description of a court scene where a soldier getthree years for shooting a civilian is packed full of emotion. Remarque has provided us in this book not only with an understanding of the weary road that many a soldier had to tread, but an intimate picture of German life as it was immediately following the war years. “The Road Back” might equally well bear the title “Thu Price Paid.” For pure pathos this book will long stand oin as a remarkable achievement.

“THE CROSS BEARERS.” by A M. Frey (Putnam).—This book made me break my resolution to read no moYe wa books. It is a plain, unvarnished, “warts and all” story of the decay of humanity under the influence of the Great War. This book is a book of terrible things, terrible language, terrible coduct, terrible thought, it is a book that will make you shudder; the author hopes that it will make you think. What is the burden of this story? Not the callousness of the German doctors. They had good, bad and indifferent doctors, as did all the other armies; not the particular misery which '-he German army suffered; but the dysgenie influence of war itself as viewed from the standpoint of a German non com. of the Red Cross Corps. When a man thinks deeply, as Funk, the hero of this book thinks deeply, when a man is capable, of observing the influence of external forces, the medical corps, offers equally an awful and an advantageous place to see what is going on. For a downright mean-souled nature Lipp, would be hard to pass. His conduct is beyond words yet he wangles through and goes home covered with honours and decorations which other men have won for him and firmly believes that he has “done his bit.” Von Pummer is another precious character whose conduct is as good as many another staff officer who has sidestepped responsibility and never faced danger, but who addresses men on “duty” and “bravery.” The wonder is that such men are able to last so long in war-time, but they do. An attack on Fournes by the British is to take place. “A Prussian M.O.— the one who drank by the yard—stayed with Malz and Funk. He had undertaken to be responsible for the medical arrangements in/ Fournes if necessary, but had announced his intention of following his own sapper company, which had already retired, in rhe event of the British coming too unpleasantly near the village.” Thus the N. were left to take care of the wounded “the waste products from Mar’s workshops,” as one lieutenant who had been a journalist in private life, put it. “Three days later when the colonel had returned to Fournes, had a good rest and slept off the effects of his thick head, and Lipp had also come back, having got rid of his cold, the following eloquent announcement appeared in Regimental Orders. “A violent assault by British troops has been repulsed with a success which adds fresh lustre to the regiment’s record. The task was an arduous one. calling for many sacrifices, but it was carried through to a triumphant conclusion. Exemplary keenness on the part of all officers, splendid behaviour on the part of other ranks and of the men engaged, admirable bravery and tenacious endurance, combined with the brilliant co-op-eration of all those responsible for the operations—these were the materials which -went to make this glorious achievement. I have already made known the expression of gratification with which we have been honoured by the Higher Command, and I desire to add my full meed of praise, my profound satisfaction, my deepest thanks, to all those who participated in this red-letter day in the annuals of the regiment. Let us resolve that in future, and forever, our bearing shall be no less worthy. (Signed) Von Pummer. Thus was written the official history of cowardice, mismanagement and callous indifference to suffering. And yet the German Army held together. Gradually, however, the disintegration showed itself, the good men hanging on the other side-step-ping and retiring. The decline in morality is revealed, how women trafficked themselves, how men to escape from the front line infected themselves with terrible diseases, maimed themselves, how mothers killed their infants (illegitimate) and even Lipp could pardon them by reporting that the child had never lived. Ho ignored the marks on the little neck. This is a picture of war as it is, a terrible portrayal, and it is meant to be so because war is terrible. It. is as well to be reminded of that , fact. Frey docs it. “CROSSFIRE,’’ by Joan. Suther land (Cassel). —“Crossfire” is a striking example of what happens in many society homes where parents are so on grossed in their own affairs—the father in business and the mother in her social whirl thnt their children are left to the care of servants and also to their own resources. Emily and Ross Andwyn found out their mistake when’’it was almost too late, and then two elder daughters wore exposed to social dangers which well-nigh ended in shipwreck. A gripving story illustrating the selfishness of the mother and the self-sacrifice of the daughter. Fortunately tragedy was averted and the story comes to a happy ending for all concerned, including the reader. “Crossfire” is a very readable well-balanced story. The character of Sonia, the elder daughter, calls for special mention. The authoress is to be congratulated on her portrayal of the characters. CURRENT PUBLICATIONS That popular monthly magazine “Aussie” has just reached us. One big feature entitled, “Are New Zealand Writers Quotable?” has caused considerable interest among “Aussie” readers, and the second batch of quotations together with the name of th • winner of one guinea prize is printed in this month’s number. Air Victor Lloyd, now a regular contributor of humorous reminiscences and original stories, lias excelled himself in his article on “An Examination Paper.” Ken Alexander’s page iu this issue i,-. as usual, full of surprises bursting with brightness. More writers and artists are employed now than ever before. Don t miss this month's issue. Aussie is on sale at all bookshops throughout, the country. The setting of the story, Kan to, the part of Manchuria in which the Malinins live, is the Japanese name for a territory about the size of Wales, in the must southerly corner of the east side of Manchuria. To the south of if is Korea, to the east—shutting it off from the sea—is the maritime province of Russian Siberia and Vladivostok. To the north and tn the west is the rest of Manchuria.

MODERN LITERATURE 1 ' I ' i QUANTITY v. QUALITY. , j At the annual banquet of the Hoy a! Academy, Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch hat the duty of replying to the toast ol “Literature” proposed by the president. writes our London correspondent, he supposed, he said, that anyone who put up an apology for literature to-day had to defend either its quail tity or its quality—or perhaps both Tlu quantity of literature had been u complaint from time immemorial, and strange to say, that complaint had mostly been raised by the writers themselves, with, whom surely the remedy lay. Few would subscribe to the perfectly logical excuse of Onuir (nut Khayyam, by the way) for burning the vast library of Alexandria, that if all those books questioned Ihe true faith they were pernicious, and if they supported .it they were superfluous. And he had a suspicion that, when Gibbon allowed himself, finding good in evil, to rejoice over the useful purpose those documents served by supplying foi some weeks the heating apparatus of the public, baths at Alexandria, they might detect some sigh of relief th.at the combustion-the holocaust—had any. how saved him a pestilent deal of research. The British Museum and the uni versifies might complain, but he could not see why man reasonably careful of his digestion, should complain of excess in the quantity of literature. It wa? always open for man to select. Then wh) should he, more than any other of the animal kingdom, complain of the extent of his pasture? Indeed, for his , part, he felt that to be “just as wise as you want to be, ami no more,” was possibly the best end of a liberal education. As for qualify—well, for the past of our literature he would not plead. It was one of “the glories of our blood and State.” For its present. vitality he could only refer them to the weekly reviews in which xo many of his friends and pupils were gaining distinction. The supply uf masterpieces, so far as he could gather, was continuous, and a new poet seemed to be discovered every other week Why should they demur at that output, at a time when the general output of England seemed to be in a state of depression? For his part, he rejoiced m it, but he confessed that as a reader ne grew smewhat tired of stories of prophecy of the future and of stories - about sex. He wished rather to retire into some quiet place of literature, say, with Izaak Walton, or with White of “tSclborne,” and dip into a book where there was no sex. nu inarryuig or giving in marriage, or giving away after marriage. There were just three pleas he would put forward before ardent youth. The first was that those young practitioners, when they wrote criticism, might at least not deride the great names of Scott ami (Dickens, who really made the popularity on which they now thrived. Men like Samuel Johnson began it ami broke through the barrier of patronage, but those two great past champions eminently broke down for modern literature that barrier which had held it up. His second plea was for their recognition that our litcratu.c (though democratic now) came mainly of aristocratic stock, high thought, high breeding, good manners: and that to put one’s tongue out, so to speak, especially at any man great in a previous generation—at Matthew Arnold, for example—became no one. even with Ihe privilege of a lady. As to the third plea, he meant to put up one for professors as merely useful protectors of tradition. He would, however, content himself with the gentle plea that i of all human vocations theirs was perhaps the easiest to avoid. Mr Eugene O'Neill has won his case in a suit for plagiarism which was brought against him by Miss G. Lewys in connection with “Strange Interlude.” The plaintiff hail demanded £400,000 on the score that the play was based on a book written by her. She was reprimanded by the judge for wasting the Court's time, and ordered to pay £3300 in counsel’s fees for :he defence.

DOWN GRUB STREET Edgar Wallace has become so tired ol the rumours that, lie employs “ghosts' to do his books—lie himself providing the plot and paid scribes doing die l (he rest —that he ha> offered a reward ■of £5OOO io anyone who can prove th.it I lie has ever employed a “ghost.” To j make it more empliatic, he announces that “ghosts” are eligible* for the Flora, Klickmann ? s new book ,vas published in April by Putnam. It is called “Visitors at the Flower Patch. ’' The flower-patch is, of course, Miss Klickmann’s faniou> house on the Wy*. near Tintern. The idea of “'i’obit Transplanted '' (Macmillans’) came to the author when, after re-reading the Opocrypha, she i discovered a curiously exact parallel | between the position of the exiled Jews t of Tobit ’s day and that of tht* exiled i White Russians in ours. It seemed io her that most of the details of Tobit’s story might, bo road as referring, without irrelevance or even improbability, to the adventures of a White Russian refugee family. The reader of the 'novel will be able to make comparisons for himself, for Miss Benson has 'included in complete copy of the Book ■of Tobit nt the end of her book. 'Th uuthov has jived and 1 ravelled i much in China and the neighbouring | countries. The local atmosphere is proj duced with rare fidelity, with exquisite I descriptions of scenery. The various members of the Russian Malinin and Ostapenko families are presented with all Miss Stella Benson’s mordant humour and her brilliant and arresting power of characterisation. AT SANDRINGHAM IN KING EDWABD’S DAY. “From Windsor we went tu Sandringham, the country house of the Prince of Wales (Edward All), who had pressed his nephew to pay him a visit there. Sandringham is one of rhe most charming estates I know. Even in England, which is the land par excellence of beautiful manors, it would be difficult to find a house combining the most relined luxury with so much comfort. The magnificent park with its line oaks and beeches, its incomparably beautiful lawns, the rhodmlendrun shrubs, the neat gravelled paths and quick hedges, made every walk an enjoyment. Johanna Schopenhauer, the splendid and prolific writer, who was the mother of the great philosopher, in one of her books make the apposite remark that the English gardeners are true landscape painters on a large scale, and are indeed almost the only real artists in the English nation. The Prince and Princess of Wales were the most amiable of hosts, and everyone was looked after without being allowed to feel hampered in his freedom and independence of movement. Certainly one had to appear at breakfast in the morning ami there eat bacon and eggs, porridge and jam, and on Sunday attend ‘divine service,’ but apart from this each guest could do what be liked. In the line stables there was a famous stallion, whose name has to my regret slipped my memory, but which had gained for the prince, in various races which he had won, nearly fifty thousand pounds, with which the mag nilicent greenhouses at Sandringham had been built. . . It was psychologically interesting to see King Edward VI [ associating with his nephew. In the main, the King impressed the Kaiser, although the latter did have | moments when he hated his ‘wicked I uncle.’ The occasions when he would have been only too glad for a heartfelt reconciliation were far too freI quent. When the uncle talked ' politics with the nephew I | hail an impression of a fat malicious 1 tom-cat playing with a shrew-mouse.” I—From the “.Memoirs of Prince von ! Bulow '' VoL L

OUR BABIES The Dull Days. Wr often hear people complain that i <lull weather, with constantly grey j skies, sends their spirits down to zero, land it is common knowledge that a long I spell ol cold sunless days increases the jlemlency to colds and bronchitis and ' other infections. The fact is that u\ eryone tends to suffer physically, more or less, from lack of sun, whilst the . j mental ami nervous condition tends to i be depressed by the lack of light and It, is worth while, now that winter [ is setting *n, to consider in what ways ' we may remove or mitigate the ill cfI feels of cold and sunless days on j children. ' Remember that cold in itself is jn- | vigorating. n’ot harmful, to hardy. I active people of any age. It is only to jthose who are soft or coddled < r 'weakly, or who are lixing under wrong conditions, that cold weather constitutes a danger—which is an argument | in itself against coddling. “Feeling The Cold.” But we must not forget, in our dej sire to make children hardy, that chilli- , m s lower® vitality and is depressing to | the nervous system, and such a condiI lion definitely lays the child open to | infection and ill-health. ' Sonic children “feel the cold” more than others, and should be treated :ic•ordingly, whilst at the same time everything possible is done to tone them up and improve the circulation and vitality generally. Children suffering from lack of warmth and light tend to be fretful and listless: they do not instinctively run and romp about in order to get warm. Such activity is the result of reasoning —the natural tendency is rather to huddle up and conserve what warmth there is. Who does not know the feeling of reluctance to getting out of bed when ono wakes up slightly chilly? Anyone who has had experience of the care of little children knows how utterly miserable they may be on cold early mornings, when, once awake, they will not keep snuggly down in bed. There often follows an unhappy hour or two until a warm corner in kitchen or playroom is ready and breakfast comes on the scene. Extra Clothing. The wise mother is always on the watch, and ready to regulate clothing I to the changing conditions of the day. For these early morning hours it is most essential to attend to baby directly he wakes and sits up, before he gets chilled. Remove any wet clothing, and slip on one or two extra close-fit-ting garments, long socks, and gloves. As the day or room warms up and active exercise is taken, lighten the cloth ing. During fine winter weather all but the equivalent of summer clothes can be discarded during the sunny I hours about noon, and real sunbaths may be taken in a suitably sheltered i spot. Then, again, as the day wanes, be ready with extra wraps. Common Sense, Not Coddling. This sort of attention is not coddling; it j common sense. But it should be unobtrusive and done in such a manner that the child does not feel itself the | object of anxious solicitude on the part ] of the mother. One may foster self- . reliance by teaching the child to take off ami put on his own cardigan as required. Quite a little child will presI ently say, “ Poof—hot!” and proceed to divest himself of superfluous gar- ( nients. Remember that knitted garments, whilst the best, ami warmest of wear in still air, offer no resistance to wind, and one thickness of silk, cotton, or other close-woven lining material is required for outings. The crawling baby is a problem in cold weather. He needs a complete suit of closely-woven or knitted woollies, covering feet and thighs. Gloves, too, may be a comfort. The tops of old woollen stockings or old woven bloomers or junipers make good sensible crawling suits. A good big pen with solid sides and a warm rug inside is a help in keeping baby out of draughts, .also keeping him in a warm or sunny spot wherever such may be. Light and Colour. It is worth considering, too, the fecl of light ami colour apart from actual sun ami air. IDarkncss and drabness are depressing. Lightness and I

'bright, pretty colours, on the othei j hand, arc stimulating and cheering Children cannot define such reactions but are affected none the less to a greater or smaller extent, according tc temperament. Therefore the playroom should, if possible bo light and bright especially during du!', winter (lays. A (predominance of various shades of gold iorange, and russet in tho furnishings I makes a tremendous difference to the /‘atmosphere” of a room. A few shililings will bo very well spent on inexpensive but bright and “sunny” col.cured materials for curtains and coverjings for the living room or playroom at ’this time of the year. I Even clothes often make a difference ito our “feelings,” and no less to children’s. Most little children love j pretty colours, and a gay new cretonne apron made out of scraps of material will help to dissipate the effects 'of a dark and cheerless day. Ventilation and Warmth. | Proper ventilation of the playroom is very important, though not always easy to achieve. A room with a fireplace is best, because a chimney practically assures some degree of ventilation in any room. ’ A modern gas lire set in an open chimney is an excellent method of warming a nursery or playroom. The chimney gives ventilation and tho gas fire provides easily regulated warmth without requiring constant attention, and it emits a cheerful glow of light. With an electric radiator and no chim nej it is difficult to keep a room comi fortably warm yet fresh, and one hes to give more thought to “airing” and ventilating the room. The Kitchen As a Playroom. If the kitchen is the only possible place for the little ones to play in when indoors, take stock of your kitchen from the point of view of making it a« healthy and suitable for that purpose as possible. First and most important is the question of ventilation and fresh air. Quite definitely the close, warm., and often steamy atmosphere of <. n ordinary kitchen is thoroughly bad fur a child. To spend hours in such an atmosphere is very enervating, and lowers the vitality of every part of the body. It produces a condition in which the child is extremely susceptible to colds ' coughs, and chest trouble, besides predisI posing to the growth of adenoids and | enlarged tonsils. Baby’s Corner. i But by a little careful thought and I planning much can be done to improve mutters, and “baby’s corner” can ho made perfectly safe and healthy as well as comfortable. First of all, the window—see that it opens, and is kept open, at the top; have the bottom thrown wide open also for as long and as often as possible. Now choose the corner which is airiest, but not draughty, for a play-coruer. Call in father’s active assistance in making a pen. For the crawling baby a big packing case does well, cut down to a convenient height, painted and lined; but the toddler needs more space. It is an excellent plan to make a little wooden fence or barricade which can be fitted and fastened across the corner and removed when not required. We have had experience of such, used either in a room or on a verandah, 1o which it and the children, bag and bag gage, were removed when the sun came out. The children called it tho “bar-row-cade.” There camo a time when it was the most absorbing occupation to endeavour to climb over it, and eventually its day was done, but not before it had served its useful purpose for several years. Then father’s handiness and ingenuity may come again. The prettiest little chair and table, and perhaps a box for holding toys, may be made at home for a very small sum, and they look charming when gaily painted and decorated, if desired, with the pretty little stencils one can buy.

It is, by the way, quite a good plan to start early and keep to the practice of giving the toddler his meals on his own little table instead of in a high chair at the family meals. If it can be managed it is a great boon to “get him out of the way” beforehand ’ike this, and it also teaches independence and helps to prevent the habit of expecting “pieces” and unsuitable food from the grown-ups’ table. We have wandered a little from our subject of safeguarding the children from the ill effects of winter, but; hope these few practical hints may be useful. Next week we shall have something to say about diet and other points of importance during tho cold, dull season.