BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

Dominion, Volume 5, Issue 1307, 9 December 1911, Page 9

BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

VERSES OLD AND NEW. AND IP IT IS SORROW. And if it is Sorrow that stands then . and waits, Old Sorrow or Fear at tho wrought-iror •;;nt<-.s-Go .net forth to meet them and bid them ;ood-day Or-give (henf an entrance this year 01 this day. . . - No: shut all'the windows and fasten the . doors; ' '-. ■ And rather let Solitude glide o'er the ' floors; ' And draw.up with' Memory chairs by the ' fire; . • ' And "take, down dear Poesy's ever-tuned • • lyre. ■ • • '•'"''.' Inipoi'tunnto ■ Sorrow may ono day per force . , ■.'■•'■ Break 'into youf.J homestead with Foai too in course:' ' -. '~ But be a. bad hostess, be'stern to then: tuain,' '-. '■-■..■',. ..■'.■• GiTe them- scant- courtesy—lest they' re- .. main. ..;■■.....' , , r-L-A.C, in. the ".Westminster' Gazette.' LOVE'S PRAYER. 0 ,Go:l:of love! make me of love, that ] May give to. Her a lifo that shall nol die; 1 who have dared to breathe Her namf ./. ' -must be '• First of all worthy to have walked with ■ ■» . Thcc. Lot nie grow sweet with Beauty till mj heart Shall,always be an altar where Thou art, 0 saye'me from the fevered wa3'sofmor That' my breath shall not blight upon Her when 1 look into Her face, and give my eyes Rapture of dreaming on ■■ tho white sur- ' priso _ Of Her pure virgin beauty, that tho more Shall train. my soul to worship and . : adore. Make mo as pure as night that I may With dreaming fragrance on Her liliod breast; Make me as clean as 'dawn that I may b« Holily wed to Her simplicity. 0 mtiv my lifo forget all other things Save that I need the consecrated wings Of Love that .is a Prayer to reach th.E place Where I may turn my eyes up to' Hei face, Seeing all purely, what I need to see— That'if I lov'o Her,-.l.am loving Thee! '■— L. C. Hodgson, in "ScribnerV NIGHT-BORN. The ::aircs>t blossom of the light 'Was.nurtured ih tho womb of night . An alien to. the'sun; . ' " Anjdio her bosom night must need Ee-call each love-selected, seed When .blossom-time is doite. And we—by baptism of sleep ' ! Her children—waken but. to keep The memory, of her charms And proiniws that ne'er too soon, Ikispito tho blandishments of noon, Eeatorc.us to• her.arms.' —Boy'-Jackson,' in.'tho "Spectator/' ARNOLD BENNETT TALKS. rfha New York' Ptet" print; in -interview with Arnold Bennett'. "Ono .'of our professors of-the .drama,' absolved tho interviewer, "holds that tin drama will supei-sedo tho novel in thi near future—is beginning to do it already Ho believes-that lifo is becoming increas iugly busy and complex, and that there fore people will prefer the play to th( novel because it takes less tinio and gives them what tho novel does. You writ< both, Mr. Bennett. What do you think o l £.r-his statement.?"., ,-■ ,>.».-.,.....,, .. ■■,-,,.. "I don't believo in it. The novel is nol going to bo crowded out. The only reason why life is becoming increasingly busy and complex ia.^hrtt-w6.hava'learned to do things moro easily and yuickly, which leaves us timo to bring moro things intt our lives. Peoplo will still go to novels where, they will find life presented raon intensely than in plays—which are usually intended merely, to amuse." "But there are the serious playwrights Ibsen,.for example, and in England, Gals ■worthy." "And the public .doesn't go to them Galsworthy's ..'Strife/ for example, hai about six performances in London. Anc wo had to fight like fury to g6t Ibsen intt England. And, do-you know, although ] fought for, him myself twenty years ago when I saw again some of his plays lately such ns .'Ghosts' and 'The Wild Duck'—] was disappointed. 'There's some sort o' hidden sentimentalism there,' I said t< myself, 'that—that won't do/ • No, th( demand has been and will continue to b< for novels—long novels." "You don't think that even the demanc for tho short story is increasing?" "The demand for the short story in Eng ' land is nothing, and in America, nlmosl nothing—that is, in' volume form. Ifs tht long novel the people want." "How long do they want their novels to UV "Well, I offered a novel of 75,000 words to a publisher, and he said it was toe short. My longest novel, 'The Old Wives Tale/ sold best of all. One publishei actually made it a point, in bringing oul 'C'layhangeiV to advertise the trilogy ol which it is a part, as forming the .'longest of nil my novels." ' "But how do you account for the pre feroneo for tho long novel?" , "Why, peoplo have preferred tho lonj novel all, along. Tho eighteenth-centurj novel ranged from 500,000 words to a inii lion. The earlier nineteenth-century novels averaged. from 4(10,000 to 500,000 .words Even to-day it is about 200,000 words anc more." "Don't your figures indicate that the de mand is increasingly for the shortei novel?" "No, because the demand for the novel of r.bout 200.000 words has stayed at thai for a Ion? time. You see, a reader whe has had his interest aroused doesn't waul it out of? soon." • The interviewer had made some remarl nbout sentimcntalism. Mr. Bennett inntantly hunched his shoulders agsrressivelj and, pointing his cigarette emphatically announced: ' , "I'm here to knife sentimcntalism—tc knifo.it." He seemed to relish the Americanism which had been used by the inter viewer, for he repeated it with gusto. "But the Russian!writers you admire sc much. Don't you find sentimcntalism ii thiOT."" n'*!"' A m ' k*" n!P " T t,lip ' the Russians.' The twelve greatest novel" in- the world all came from Russia. ] am leaving nut' of account Gorkv anc Andrcioff and their kind—thev arc "third rate. The great -Russians are Gotol Dostoievsky, TurgeueieiT. Tolstpv. and 1 find no sentimcntalism in them." "George Bernard Shaw is with yon ir fighting sentimcntalism. What do yot ( think of his way of doing it?" •• "Wo!!—" and the cigarette tcok or a brig, steady glow, while Mr. Bennett nought to characterise the elusive G.B.S Tho conclusion came cautiously. ''Well as a preacher he is first-rate. As an artist he is—not first-rate. Ho is too unemotional. Ho fails to recognise, (ho plnc< of emotion in life,, and that makes J'.in the- less nrtist and takes aw:iy imhi tLi truth of what lie tries vo porlra.v." "You don't believe, of -course-,' that ,- novelist -.bould preach in his novels?" "I do uot.. The author should he—nol Impersonal; he can't be that really—but imiinrtiuf'. When be is .that lie can pc ahead, and be as Iran.!; as -he wants to be. holding no brief for anything." "llmv tar may iui author aarry frank ncss with propriety.'" "To" the same extent, it seems to n;. to which well-bred men and women '.-an-j it in. fairly intimate conversation.'' "Ilavo you any definite imprc-ssior about which element in a novel (ho-pub-lic takes the greater, interest, action oi character development?" "Impossible. 'o tell. But if acting \en in greater demand I-should-not be heie/ "But • American-, renders are chargec with wanting nction above all, ,\u,i'mesl of our fiction-shows it. What do yoi think of American tastes in literature?' "The Americans' aro vory, very keen ii appreciating everything that is first-clas: —much keener than the English. Tin English are,so much slower >a every thing." Mr. Bennett was reminded thai Americans were the first to appreciati

P,rowning and Kipling, and comparatively early in discovering Bennett himself; but that they passed Walt Whitman by until llurope had shown its appreciation first.

"Now you're speaking of one of the greatest, of men—ono of the very f.rcakst. \esj his case is perhaps the exception." The talk came round to vniy itcrnt events and movements.

t Have the lato labour upheavals in bngland affected your Five Towns world?" the interviewer asked.

An interested, ruminative look came into Mr. Bonnet t*3 eyes. It was as if ho suddenly turned to attend to some inner prospect.

"Tremendously," he answered, still engaged with what was in his mind. The cigarette lit up. into its last expiring glow, as if, like everything else about Mr. Bennett, it was methodically timed, i'or the next engagement was only a minute away, and Mr. Dennett seemed to know it without consulting his watch. ..Quietly, witluhit obtruding his motions into the conversation, Mr. Dennett tucked the.now empty holder into his vest pocket, gathered up a paper or two, and anight the lost two questions as he rose slowly with the interviewer and reached tor his own hat.

Women play such a large part in your novels. What do you think of the. whole lcminist movement and its programme?" "I am for it, without question," Mr. Bonnott answered heartily.

"But some of its implications go pretty far,' Mr. Bennett, and many good people arc much disturbed about" the changes the movement promises in the attitude and relations of tho sexes toward each other."

"Well, they needn't worry—they needn't worry," ho repeated. "Things are not going to change so very suddenly. These good people will have a chance to get used to them as they come along." And without hurry or break the interview came to nn end and Mr. Bennett stood ready, hat in hand, just as his publisher came in at the appointed moment to take him to. his hotel.