BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

Evening Star, Issue 21742, 9 June 1934, Page 21

BOOKS AND BOOKMEN

A LITERARY CORNER

LETTERS BY FAMOUS MEN The letters of many famous men to their mothers are contained in the anthology, ‘ Letters to Mother,’ compiled by G. C. Wheeler and published by Messrs George Allen and Unwin Ltd. This is the first anthology of its kind published, and its literary merits are enhanced by tho excellent biographical notes by the author. A hitherto unpublished letter from Captain Robert Falcon Scott was written from the base at the Bay of Whales before ho made his ill-fated expedition. “ I cannot say how'it is going to work out,” he wrote. “ I have taken a lot of pains over the plans, so I hope for the best. . . • Of course, there will be a tough bit at the end, but I have the right people with me to undertake it and I believe we shall pull through. . . .. In any case, I want you to be well and happy when I come home again. It will not be very long now.” He never returned. His body lies under a stone cairn a mile south of One Ton Depot, Tho great newspaperman, Lord Northcliffe, sent a characteristic telegram on his birthday: “ All my tender devotion on our day, darling sweet mother.—Alfred. ’ ’

From St. John’s College, Cambridge, Samuel Butler wrote on the eve of examinations: “ If I fail, and at the end of tho year I should know whether or not I was going to succeed, I should either then make the best of a bad business and go off to New Zealand with whatever money I could raise, or go in for the Civil Service examinations and try for an appointment under Government, or whatever else might then seem best—but be sure I shall come down for no money from Longer ” (his father’s rectory). To his father’s dismay and sorrow, Samuel Butler turned away from ordination through theological doubts. His wish was to be a painter. However, he came to New Zealand, and for five years he was sheep farming at Mesopotamia, in the llangitata district, where he completed ‘ Erewhon,’ which was published in 1872. He returned to London and died there in 1902. In ‘ Tho Way of All Flesh ’ he describes the bitter quarrel with his father, referred to in the letter.

Among other men of letters and distinction whose maternal affection is revealed are: Henry VII. (the first of the Tudors), John Donne (the divine and poet of the early seventeenth century, the greatest preacher of his time and Dean of St. Paul’s), John Wesley (the father of Methodism), the great William Pitt (Earl of Chatham), Samuel Johnson (always an unwilling letter writer except to Mrs Thrale), Horace Walpole (who wrote the epitaph on his mother’s grave in Westminster Abbey), James Wolfe (the commander of the St. Lawrence Expedition in 1759), George Washington (only three of whose letters to his mother are preserved), Thomas Carlyle (who always spoke of the endless gratitude ho owed his mother for her care of his body and soul), Lord Macaulay (precocious, he began a compendium of history when he was seven), Cardinal Newman, Sir James Outvam (“ The Bayard of India,” as the inscription on his tomb in the Abbey runs), Disraeli, Oliver Wendell Holmes, William Makepeace Thackeray (whose letters to his mother form almost a complete autobiography, so important a part did she play* in his life and in -the lives of his children), David Livingstone (who found his grave in Africa), Charles Kingsley, Walt Whitman. John Ruskiu, Florence Nightingale, Mathew Arnold, Thomas Henry Huxley. Dante, Gabriel Rossetti (who, at five or six, wrote dramatic scenes), Edward White Benson (Archbishop of Canterbury till his death in 1896), Lord Leighton (the great artist, who never fulfilled the words—- “ Theoretically I should like to bo married very well ” —contained in a letter in 1860 to his mother), Charles Haddon Spurgeon (minister of the great Metropolitan Tabernacle in London from 1861 till his death in .1892). Robert Louis Stevenson (whose mother later joined him at Vailima, Samoa, where he died), Herbert Henry Asquitli (Earl of Oxford, who was made to keep, a strict account of his work at school by his mother), and Sir Arthur Sullivan (who, from New York, after tho presentation of ‘ Pirates of Penzance,’ wrote: “ The music is infintely superior in every way to ‘ Pinafore ’ —‘ tunier ’ and more developed and of a _ higher class altogether. I think that in time it will be more popular”).

THRILLER OF FIRST ORDER Logic is no mean feature in the success of Charles Rushton’s thrillers. The author never condescends to the impossible, and reveals in his latest puzzler, 1 Another Crime,’ the reason for this: he selects actual crimes and builds his novels round them. For 1 Another Grime ’ he has chosen New Scotland Yard’s bringing to book of a ruthless blackmailer and a maniac strangler, and in his usual entertaining fashion, with unbroken continuity, recounts a series of fourteen strange deaths. At first only suicides are suspected, but there follow killing so atrocious that the police fear a madman is at .large. From the opening page one is swept along in the exciting chase for the criminals, and one mystifying incident is scarcely over before the reader is being enthralled by another crime. Never at any stage does the interest flag. There is nothing ingenious or involved in the plot, but its swift action makes the book one that once started it is impossible to lay aside. Previously Rushton _ has written five mystery stories (it is only seven months ago since wc reviewed his last book), and, if they did not prove that he is among the foremost thriller writers of the day, ‘ Another Crime ’ certainly does. Herbert Jenkins Ltd. (London) are the publishers. WEALTH WITHOUT HAPPINESS A clever story of a wealthy young woman who marries a pretentious society man is told by Laetitia McDonald in ‘ Silver Platter.’ Young, beautiful, and immensely wealthy, Victoria Rupp, daughter of a plumber who bad become a millionaire, believed that Phillip Pyne could provide her with a home and happiness. They marry and plunge into the morass of greed, immorality, and vulgarity, coincident with the prosperous times of 1927-28. The girl is tragically unhappy. She finds her life singuarly empty and her husband in love with another woman. She sets out to find idealism for herself. ‘ Silver Platter ’ is a very strong and sad commentary on a generation which lost its balance in prosperity. Miss' M‘Donald has made Victoria Pyne a dominant character among weak-willed personalities. The character is convincingly drawn. Atmosphere has been very ably created, and the pageant of wealth is not lacking in details which count. Miss M‘Donald is a thorough, careful writer. She presents the sordid side of American society most effectively with finesse, while her respect for tradition and manners is evident. ‘ Silver Platter,' which is published by Messrs Ivor Nicholson and Watson, is charmingly told.

• THE SHADOW OF THE FOUR• Here we have the story of a beautiful girl, intellectually gifted. She is a successful London barrister, who has inherited about a million of money at the moment the story opens. Her brother had been badly taken down by a band of confidence tricksters during a voyage from India on furlough. Ho commits suicide rather than face an angry father, who dies suddenly when he hears the tragic news. The girl decides to make war on tho underworld. She gives up her legal work and launches her plans. She forms an organisation—the adjusters—and furnishes elaborate offices in London. Quite frank with Scotland Yard about her aims, she withholds tho names of her four lieutenants —shadowy, blackhooded men. The object is to adjust the relations between the criminal and his victim in cases where the police are powerless. The four adjusters are wellknown society men who are devoted to tho girl. One is the inevitable athletic young peer, another is a leading barrister. It all sounds fantastic and beyond the realms of credulity, yet ‘ The Shadow of the Four ’ is entertaining and exciting, for the amazing incidents are briskly told. The author is Mark Cross and the publishers Ward, Lock, and Co. EXCELLENT FIRST NOVEL Another Australian author has made a striking debut. Tho latest first novel to command attention is ‘Blue North’ by H. Drake-Brockman, published by the Endeavour Press (City). Tho characters are portrayed incisively and into an exciting story of colonisation Western Australia and pearling in the north, tho author has sandwiched two sensational historical incidents —the escape of tho Fenians, under the wing of John Collins, and the Catalapa, which ultimately reached America after playing a game with a Govern-ment-chartered chase ship off Fremantle and the seizure of the Racepede Islands by an American, Roberts, whose Government later denied his authority to plant the stars and stripes there. Handsome John Fordyce was married to a society-obsessed and extravagant, nagging woman. Ho buys tho Sea Sprite and sails away north to freedom. At Cossack, a brief liaason with a wanton barmaid brings tragedy to a little waif, whom Fordyce has befriended. Before happiness comes to tho two central figures, Fordyce and the Sea Sprite have many adventures. Mr Drake-Brockman spices his story with really thrilling and from what one has read true stories of the pearling grounds. The characterisations are very clear and the dramatic scenes are capably handled, none better than the willy-willy disaster and the meeting of Fordyce with his disreputable enemy. ‘ Blue North ’ is a good story, with tho added merit of being well told. CHEIRO'S LEG STRETCHING Apologies should bo offered by Cheiro for repeating tho old adage “Truth is stranger than fiction ” in his ‘ Real Life Stories,' the latest volume of his reminiscences to be published by Herbert Jenkins, for this time he draws by far too long a bow. The credulous may believe his stories but ,tho reader of average intelligence will have recourse to a very expressive American word “ Hokum 1 ” Count Louis Hamon (Cheiro’s correct name) goes a long way with this collection of positively incredible stories .to establishing himself as the modern prototype of Baron Munchausen. ■ The founds of reason arc all completely outstepped in some of tho stories. By thought transference, Cheiro claims, he makes one gasp with inclaims, he was rescued , from a tomb in the Valley of tho Kings. Well! Well I But he makes one gasp* with incredulity when he tells of the amazing signals of a mummy’s hand that came to light. If this is truth, one will make a hurried’ search for the most melodramatic fiction for relief. But the classic concoction is the life history of a young man, who died in the ruins of El Karnake, A pre-natal curse later developed, a live snake growing out of the young man’s chest! Cheiro is admittedly a wonderful hand reader but he has allowed his dramatic style of writing to carry him too far—far beyond, the bounds of possibility. However, a few of tho ‘ Real Life Stories ’ are readable and have the character of truth. P. G. WODEHOUSE Mr P. G. Wodehouse, as a writer, holds a unique position. He has no rivals in his particular field. Many of Dickens’s characters and Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson have become fixed possessions with English-speaking people, and Bertie Wooster and_ Jeeves are likely to be included in this company. That is not to say that everyone appreciates the Wodehouse humour, but those to whom it appeals find it vastly entertaining. ‘ Thank You, Jeeves!’ is a typical Wodehouse novel, in which Bertie Wooster finds himself involved in some ludicrous in-cidents-—amatory and others—and in the end is rescued by Jeeves. In this hook Wooster and Jeeves are parted for a time, the latter having given notice because of Wooster’s infatuation for tho banjolele, an instrument that Jeeves abhors. However, the invaluable® valet is never far away, and the inevitable reconciliation comes at the finish. In these anxious times Mr Wodehouse’s humour is a boon to those who can enjoy it. The publishers are Herbert Jenkins Ltd.

VERSES

INFORMATION Information to impart. What a cumulative store! What a Pelion of art Heaped on Ossa! What a boro! We who know and never did, We who judge and never act, Have that longing to be rid Of our pabulum of fact. We can tell you all about Tendencies and current modes; How the young idea should sprout; How the world should bear its loads; And when some pool - devil dies We are to his carcass lured Like a host of buzzing flies With the very latest word Of appraisement. Wo intone Stories of another’s teen. Sitting at the microphone, We recount- what wo have seen, Wo retail what we have read, Bowdlerised for simple ears, So that we may lift our head In this Nineveh of tears; So that we may fall on sleep. Lusting for forgetfulness Of the facts that make men weep, Of the travailing world’s distress. Yet to hide our shame and greed Wo must sow the world with tracts; For the lot of them who read Is to horde and render facts. C. R. Allen (Dunedin). WHEN I HAVE FEARS I’ll live to see ye decorate your prime, My little children twain, my pigeon pair; Though scarcely further will the sway of time ■ Permit my feet to wander with you there — ■ ' I an old gaffer reckoning each chime , As though it were a vesper, you so fair. How will men see you then and I not see? How will they deem you ? As as I find you now? As full of joy? As passionate as bees Battling with flowers? Rippling with the ease Of wavelets in the wind? Or will a slough Of blosgomless time engulf you? Tell me how, Immortal longings, I may succour these! O, little sweetings, whereto were ye born? 1 How can I save you ? i—A. E. Coppard, in the ‘ Observer.’

MR BALDWIN ON BOOKS

Mr Baldwin spoke of his love of libraries and confessed to no fastidious taste in literature ■ when he attended the ceremony of opening a new. extension of the London Library recently. The ceremony was performed by. Lord Crewe, and Mr H. A. L, Fisher, who is president of the library, was in the chair. .. , Mr Fisher said the extension would. give more room for their books, for their members, for their staff, and for Sir Charles Hagberg Wright, the librarian of genius who. for a space of fortyone years, had dedicated his great powers with a steady and imdeviating devotion to the interests of the library. Ho had heard it said that no _ good librarian should know what was inside a book. Their librarian was the exception that proved the. rule. Thanks not a little to his unusual gifts, the London Library now constituted a noble collection of 450,000 carefully chosen volumes, well arranged and well catalogued, and specially designed to meet the needs of serious students. The library was founded through the exertions of Thomas Carlyle, who, in the winter of 1839, began to agitate for a lending library “ containing books in all departments of literature and philosophy, and designed for the needs of serious scholars,” They had had no assistance from public funds. The library had been from the beginning, and still remained, the venture of men and women who cared for books and wanted to read them. Like the Colleges of Oxford and Cambridge, it was ■ one of those English foundations in_ furtherance of learning and education which owed their being to private enterprise. It would be interesting to compose a catalogue of important • books which had been written with the _ help of that place. Much of the serious intellectual work which went forward in the country, whether in literature and philosophy, or in the Government departments and in the Press was. he suspected, in debt to the London Library.

Mr Baldwin said he was a life member of the London Library; his father was_ a member before him; and his earliest recollection in the library at home was the arrival in that remote part of the country where he dwelt, of the box from St. James’s square, which he used to be the first to open. He remembered so well the warm look and the warm smell of the half-morocco and calf in which all books were dressed in those days: so different from the garish and short-skirted costumes they wore to-day when they emerged from the modern Press. He _ remembered the old labels, and particularly the very gummy label to bo placed on the box for its return. Mr Fisher had referred to the hard-backed chair. He (Mr Baldwin) had come to that, but there was no hard-backed diair in those days. He read, as all early readers, lying on his stomach in front of the fire. But, alas! that was no longer possible. To most of them there came a kind of senile which disturbed that perfect equilibrium which was necessary to that attitude to enjoy what they were reading. A DEFICIENT MANSION. In those days their friends in the library were far more real to them than most of the simulacra proved to be that they met in after life. Those present knew what a library was and what it was for. They did not feel superior in that knowledge; they merely had a happy sense that many people unfortunately were without. If they looked over modern flats to-day they found that there was not only not room to swing a cat, but not room to swing a book. JEIe remembered a friend of his who moved in most plutocratic circles telling him that he went over a magnificent house in London which might be described in auctioneers’ catalogues as “ a mansion.” He was shown by the proud possessor the various rooms, the curtains and tapestries.

bathrooms, and all that went to make a beautiful, commodious residence; hut his friend found no library, and felt that it must bo too sacred for him to enter. He eventually asked: “ Where do you keep your books?” A puzzled expression came into the face of the possessor of the mansion as he answered, “Books, books! Why, in the city; in the office, of course.” Those present were members of libraries, and fortunately for them they did not want to bo told what to read. They knew where their pasture was, and they could each seek out what best could suit their condition. He was no scholar, but catholic in his tastes, and he thought he found himself in agreement with Southey when he said: “ A fastidious taste is like a squeamish appetite. Ono has its origin in a disease of tho mind and the other in some ailment of tho stomach.” When he was in a library it was no fastidious taste that was his, but he certainly did wage war against some types of books. That day, when in the library at tho House of Commons, ho found his gazo riveted on volume 165 of English Cases, Ecclesiastical, Admiralty, and Probate and Divorce. He felt then that he was among those hooks to which Lovell referred when he said that it would be a good thing in all public collections of books to have a wing set apart for works marked “ Literature suited to desolate islands.” But it took all sorts to make a world, and even of fiction sometimes tho spirit wearied. DAY OF REUNION. “ For us who love libraries,” he said, and are debarred from them in the years of maturity, and who have to serve in dusty walks of life, whose time is but slight to taste of our own pasturage, may perhaps there not be waiting some day a reunion with those friends we love ? We remember that Brer Rabbit, when thrown into, a briar patch by Brer Fox, shouted: ‘ Born and bred in a briar patch.’ So we, born and bred in libraries, hope that we may bo thrown back into them. I think that to one in mature life coming back into the library which has been the spiritual home of his development such a homecoining would present to him a mirror of his whole life.

“ As he saw the log smouldering once more in the fireplace, as he saw books all round the shelves, each one probably with some message to him of some time of his life, many things would pass through his mind, but there would be with those memories one great comfort and one great solace. It has always seemed to me that perhaps the saddest thing about old .age is the gradual loss of your contemporaries, the men, women, and children you remember, and all those memories that mean so much in the bond of human friendship. But as they go surely then in your library there spring to more vivifying life the friendships you have made, the spiritual friendships of every country and every age, and it may well be that as your life draws nearer to its close those voices you heard in youth and young i manhood, those you knew and learned to love and followed by hard work, draw nearer to you with more understanding and sympathy than was possible in your younger years, and it may he, as the vision of things in this world becomes more dim, you may find when you have passed through the river that you will be welcomed by those you have learned to love in your books and who have been constant companions in your life. “ And this library, which is something far greater than we can have in our private lives, remains for ns to use as if it were our own. We, companions of the London Library, are indeed a happy crew, and rejoice to be present to hear of its continued progress.”

NEW BOOKS

THE ENGLISH COUNTRYSIDE ‘ A Cottage imthe Country,’ by Rickard Arkell, strikes a new line. The author introduces a person with an itch to have a cottage in the country, and he takes the reader through the English counties in search of one—Essex, Bucks, Hampshire, Cornwall, Devon. Kent, and other delightful spots are all visited, and ultimately Gloucestershire is chosen. From the point of accessibility and other reasons only places south of Birmingham are considered. The writer says: “This book is hopelessly prejudiced in favour of Gloucestershire and the Cotswold hills. If the Susses man or the man of Kent hopes to get fair play, he will be disappointed. Again and again this very unfair bias will become apparent. The writer is incorrigible. and nothing can be done about it.” But to stay in the country, unless the fates compel it, one must have a real love of rural sights and sounds. _ The country offers time to think, leisure to observe, kindly neighbours, and a garden in which to work and dream, he says. Gardeners in New Zealand read of the gardens in England with a longing to be there. Flowers bloom in the Homeland in great profusion, and with apparently little trouble. Perhaps it is the comparative absence of wind and something in the soil that give such good results. It seems from what one reads that, notwithstanding climatic difficulties, England is the place in which one with a love of gardening can live a simple and happy life. This is an interesting and entertaining book. The publishers are Rich and Cowan (London). SOUTH AMERICAN ROMANCE Mr Roland Pertwee, in his latest novel ‘No Such Word,’ makes one of his own characters remark that Pertwee’s books are “ romantic . bosh.” ‘ No Such Word •’ is certainly romantic, but it is far from being bosh. In Larry we have a delightful character and this witty young man does not allow the grass to grow under his feet when he meets the beautiful stepdaughter of the President of the South American republic of Sao Pedro. What Larry is doing in Sao Pedro, he himself does not know, except that there might be a little more excitement there than in any other place. _ Larry is possessed o'f more than his fair share of dash and he has not been in this amiable but corrupt republic more than a few minutes before things begin to happen, and then follow a series of adventures which satisfy even him, tireless as he is in his chase for excitement. It is a picturesque story and_ thoroughly enjoyable. Our copy is' from the publishers, Messrs Ivor Nicholson and Watson Ltd., London.

THE CHARM OF A. P. HERBERT ‘ HOLY DEADLOCK ’ IS EXTRAORDINARY. The furious charge of propaganda has been made against A. P. Herbert’s latest novel, ‘ Holy Deadlock.’ It may be propaganda; but first and foremost it is a work of art. The author’s genius is at its various and shining best and, though one may endorse or condemn his frankly avowed views on divorce, one must confess, unhesitatingly, that the work is no less that of art because it is the work of a propagandist. Mr Herbert touches nothing that ho does not adorn, and characters and narrative have not been ruined by the propaganda.- ‘ Holy Deadlock ’ is a vigorous, authoritative record of , live characters —always a novel of wide range, rich humour, and abundant charm. Not a line is wasted in this novel, which has been, and will continue to be, widely discussed. The richness of Mr Herbert’s writing is not lost in the amazing speed of the story, most exhilarating in every passage and scene. - Mr Herbert has long been a friend of the oppressed and the striving. He made his attitude quite plain at a recent luncheon, after ‘ Holy Deadlock ’ had set the critics talking. The divorce laws were cruel, unjust, indecent, barbarous, and bestial, he declared. Writers of novels would much prefer to amuse and entertain their readers, and write about happy marriages, tho adventures of detectives, and so on, but if, he said; “ We perceive some social or moral blight which affects our hearths and homes, and .we perceive that the law allows hypocrisy and humbug, and no Government has tho courage to amend those laws, then, it may be, it is time for us to slip into the arena and see what-we can do, and not to be afraid to speak the truth as we sec it and place our pens and hearts at the service of the people.” There we have the true character of Mr-Herbert and the purpose of his great novel. To set out Mr Herbert’s plot with brevity would do i£ an injustice. A mere outline of incidents would be as lifeless as attempting to Represent the colour and the warmth of flesh and blood with a skeleton. Its theme is the stupidity of the divorce laws of England, awkward lying and awkward spying, cross-purposes and cross-exami-nations. John Adam and his actress wife, Mary Moon, decide, by no means lightly, that after seven years of marriage, they must part. They desire only to live rightly, and to be truthful ; but before the end of the story is reached they have been obliged to lie, to admit adultery, to have their most intimate affairs discussed again and again in court—and are further off from freedom than when they set out to obtain it 1 As Mary says to her lover, Martin Seal, the 8.8. C. announcer: “ I don’t see how a law can bo right which compels a person either to commit adultery or tell lies.” “Or both,” replies Martin. Mr Herbert makes Mr_ Boom, the lawyer, one of his many delightful characters, say that the law is not a hass—it is a mule. And Mr Boom also succinctly puts the case at the finish:— “ Yes,” said Mr Boom, sighing. “ Well, anyhow, let us hope that the law and the prophets are happy. Two or three truthful people have been compelled to tell lies. . . . Three decent people

have been compelled to behave indecently (if we include the Misses Myrtle and Tott). One chaste woman has been compelled to commit adultery. Four people have been prevented from marrying the person of their choice, and one man has lost his job. But remunerative employment has been provided for two judges, one AttorneyGeneral. one King’s Proctor, the registrar and his staff, two solicitors and their staffs, two King’s Counsel and three juniors, two or three detectives, one or two, policemen, Miss Myrtle,' Miss Tott, and sundry servants of the law, not to mention the court servants and the domestic staffs of the various hotels. . . .It is true that you are as much married as you were before. But chastity, decency, and truth have been upheld, and the institution of Christian marriage has been saved again.” While deadly serious, ‘ Holy Deadlock’ is also extremely funny. Mr Herbert is pungent in his humour, most of it, this time, at the expense of the Jaw. John Adam’s week-end excursion to Brighton with the professional corespondent, whose virtue is preserved by a monetary guarantee by the respondent that he will act “ like a gentleman,” is handled with delicious whimsicality and ‘restraint. The picture Mr Herbert also draws of Rigby, the King’s Proctor’s stone detective, surreptitiously moving about the hallways of a Manchester hotel in the early hours of Christmas Dnv in an attempt to catch Mary and Martin is highly amusing. The court incidents are gems. The speeches by the King’s Counsels and the summing up by the judge are '■lassical in language and effectiveness. Brilliant writing that Mr Herbert gives in those passages is unhappily a rarity in modern novels. For Puckish treatment, the interlude of the judge in his bath with his boil and his loofah is magnificent. As is the case with the very entertaining musical comedy rehearsal, the judge’s worries have no importance in the novel. But who would have them expurgated P They do not matter; but they contribute to the general charm and piquancy. The reader may not approve of Mr Herbert’s denunciation of the divorce laws, but he will certainly agree that ' Holy Deadlock ’ is an extraordinarily talented work. It is very highly commended. Our copy comes from the publishers (Methuen and Co. Ltd.). ROMANCE OF A TYPIST ‘ The Tail of the Lonely River,’ by Harry Edmonds, is not up to this writer’s usual standard. It is a very pretty romance, but without substance, there are one or two exciting parts, but otherwise the story is very ordinary. Dorothy, a typist, goes to Russia for her firm in connection with a mining concession. She is shipwrecked, but is rescued by a handsome Bolshevist, with whom she journeys to the Ural Mountains in search of the shale deposits. There is an opposition firm which gives Dorothy a run for her money, but eventually everything ends happily. Messrs Ward, Lock, and Co., London, are the publishers.

NOTES

This rear the value of the Nobel Prizes will he £8,130 each, compared with £8,516 last year. It is possible that before long blind readers will be able to have “talking books.” Experiments are being made with gramophone discs by the National Institute for the Blind and St. Dunstan’s. The Bodleian Library has been presented with a copy of the smallest book in the world—Omar Khayyam in a thirty-four page volume measuring iin by 3 l-16in. Can there be a greater contradiction than a printed bookfwhich is not meant to be read? The notion that poets are vague and sallow fellows, looking as though they need four or five haircuts, has been, like the idea of painters as unkempt figures dressed in bottle-green velvet trousers and a loose red silk bow, an unconscionable time dying.—Mr H. E. Bates. Writing of books of adventure, the ‘ Spectator ’ says: Adventure, like divorce, has become a profession. Feats of endurance and of bravery have a market value, and all the arts of salesmanship arc used to sell them to the public.

"Tho manuscripts of two Sherlock Holmes stories—' The Adventure of the Golden Pince-nez ’ and ‘ The Adventure of - the Speckled Baud ’ —fetched £l2O and £B2 respectively at a recent sale. The four-page M.S. of George Gossing’s preface to an edition of Dickens’s ‘ Bleak House ’ fetched £SO at a recent London sale. £29 was paid for a first edition of Galsworthy’s ‘Villa Rubein.’ Mr John Masefield will be the final judge for the Irish Academy of Letters in the Harmsworth Literary Award of £IOO for the best imaginative work by an Irish author published during 1933. A London, critic wonders why the craft of the short story appeals to so many people who have seen nothing, heard nobody, and apparently have nothing to say. Mr Cecil Roberts says that he lias noticed the curious fact that serious people read light fiction while light people—if he may use that term without being misunderstood —read heavy fiction. Messrs Hodder and Stoughton, the London publishers, are offering a prize of £I,OOO for tho best autobiography submitted to them before the end of the year. They are looking, they say. for a best seller in the life of some, at present, unknown man or woman.

Walt Whitman was so passionate an evangelist of life that it is surprising to find Miss R. U. Somervell, compiler of the anthology, ‘ Love and Death,’ citing him in praise of death: “OI see now that life cannot exhibit all to me, as the day cannot, I see that I am to wait for vvh;*t will be exhibited by death.”

Tho first sections of the Historical Dictionary of tho American Language go to press this month. The editor, Sir William Craigie, professor of English at Chicago University, worked for many years on the Oxford English Dictionary. Another dictionary, on which work has recently begun, is devoted to Afrikaans. It is to contain nearly 100,000 words.

It is reported that a talking film version is to be made of ‘ Pickwick Papers ’ —mercifully by an English company. Other projected films are versions of ‘ The Swiss Family Robinson,’ Mr Galsworthy’s last novel ‘ Over the River,’ Mr Shaw’s ‘ St. Joan,’ and Sheridan’s ‘ School for Scandal.’

Rachmaninoff has recently had his memoirs published under the editorship of 0. Von Riesemann. Trained in the Moscow School of Music, Rachmaninoff conducted the orchestra -there, before the war, and concentrated on that and his own compositions. It was only after the revolution, when he left Russia and lived in America, that he set himself to be a great pianist.

It is hard to find any novel of quality which presents the social problem of to-day or even draws men and women as they are conditioned by bur industrialised life, says Mr V. S. Pritchett. There is almost a literary convention that the significance of the conditions under which our heroes and heroines earn the leisure for their psychological worryings shall never be mentioned.

The recent sensational discoveries made by Dr L. S. B. Leakey in East Africa on the subject of the origin of man give little support to the Darwinian theory as it is popularly understood. They should therefore be welcomed by those determined churchmen who feel that belief in evolution destroys the whole basis of Christianity. The skull discovered by Dr Leakey now on exhibition at the British Museum is that of no “ Missing Link,” but of a creature recognisably belonging to the genus Homo Sapiens. Dr Leakey has recorded the history of his monumental discoveries in ‘ Adam’s Ancestors,’ a book of interest alike to specialist and layman.