A LITERARY CORNER

New Zealand Times, Volume XLIV, Issue 10286, 22 May 1919, Page 3

A LITERARY CORNER

(R.A.L.)

“THE SOUL OF SUSAN YELL AM.”

H. A. Vachell. (Cassell and Co., London.)

Here is a village, "remote, solitary, alow,” stuck in the old groove, far from the great tides of men deep somewhere in Wiltshire. It lies in tho shadow of a hoarv old Norman church, with n squire of old Norman instincts in his pew—the pew that overawes rather than outshines —-on Sundays, and a parson of old ways, and a Sunday congregation which touches all things with the catholicity of a Pope and his infallibility to boot, with a judgment which ought to surprise one in a Christian country but doesn’t. The life is described with sharply cutting mastery, and as we read we get interested in these village types, the more so as wo begin to suspect that here are the hidden springs of human action which are_ everywhere ready to meet provocative opportunity with welcoming outburst. The great war brings the opportunity, and the village, with the. aid of the squire and parson, does tho outburst, tho centre of which, however, is the soul of the old widow woman who has compelled tho respect of her neighbours by her success in her hard ( life, by her Infallibly regular and prim attendance at church, by her maxims of hard Puritanism diluted with shrewd, but genuine humanity. Tho young men go to tho war, tho old widow’s son with them, and the village shines out of its old darkness n point of light twinkling in tho general illumination of valiance that blazes all over England. It is a wonderful picture of the strong righteousness in tho dark corners of tho sou] of the' great nation. Then_ the widow’s son is killed, and tho widow’s soul goes under for a time, overwhelmed by a great wave of despair, such a one as struck her in days gone by when after losing two boys she buried her husband, and her place in church knows her'no more. It is a searching psychological study. . There ensues a terrible time, until her son’s widow has visions in her time of trouble, incidental to the same, and that wav with mastcrlv touch of pathos comes tho rescuing light. ‘‘REID HERRINGS.” Gntliffo Hyno. ’(Methuen and Co., 36, Essex street, W.C-, London.) An* agreeable continuation of the series of stories in Which Captain Kettle tries-hard to ©elipse tho immortal Sherlock Holpios, and, without succeeding, reaches fame by quite a different road, on which travel persons distinguished more for ingenious constructive po\rer than for character, the deficiency enabling them occasionally to defy probability with moderate success. ‘‘SHOPS y. HOUSES.” Frank Swinnerton. (Mothuen and Co.) Tlie story drawing tbo distinction between houses and shops implies tho difference socially between the society people and the shopkeepers. Of two brothers, one remains in his shop; the other becomes a great manufacturer, and dwells in a mansion. Both are honourable men,' and they bring up their families carefully. One day the shopkeeping brother sells his shop in tho "old place, and cornea to live in another shop in tho new place, in which the mansion-dweller, his brother, is king. At once there is an illustration of the inability of oil and water to mix, together. It is a fine study of suburban life. In the conflict, oil stands for snobbery and water for simplicity; and, after a course of tawdry, dreary, scandalmongering, love comes in and clears away tbo tangle triumphantly. The charm of the book lies in its accuracy of character drawing and characteristic oonversa-

tion. You could never live with these people, but you cannot help loving to read about thorn. And tho satiric moral is distinctly good. "STANDING BY.” Robert Kcable. (Nisbet and Co., Berners street, W., 1, London.) Mr Keablo lias accomplished with striking success the original task of realising tho. effeot on the individual soldier of joining the great British Army of millions that x>h>yed s 0 groat a part in the war. Ho says in one place: "That the army is a great school everybody knows, but that its first lesson is patience is not quite so apparent. Discipline, brotherhood, fortitude, resource, all these it plainly teaches, but I should first put patience. For every one of us spends a great part of his time in ‘standing by,’ and most of us find that the hardest thing of all.” The terrors, worries, horrors, of this "standing by” arc pictured vividly, the apparent "inconsistency” of them explained, the effect, of them on tho men shown clearly. It is part of a profound study of the nature of armies generally and also of conscript armies. Their discipline, their esprit do corps, their effacement of tho individual in tho lower ranks, and their exaltation of him in the higher, which is really the mystery of leadership whifch counts so much—all these are dealt .-with comprehensively in that special manner to be expected from a man dealing witn the parts of a Chinese puzzle. Here is a sample:—-

In no other institution is it so true that every dog has his day. for even Tommy has his day with an officer, when ns a sentry he is approached without a pass. Tho author is a parson doing duty with some Basutos attached to the service behind the lines. He has access everywhere with them, and seeing in the course of his observation everything, writes exhaustively with pare sympathy, philosophic discernment and religious spirit. Everything that soldiers do and see is brought into position, and the ensemble is one of the most amazing literary productions of tho war. “REMINISCENCES OF DR COWARD.” Dr Coward. (J. Cunven and Sons, 24, Berners street, London, W. 1.) Do we remember tho “Sheffield Choir” and its performances in the Town Hall some years before the war? Rather. That was part-sing-ing; that was. It has proved unforgettable. Tlie memory of it always carries us to the conductor.; to Dr Coward, who, diligent disciple and master of Tonic Sol Fa, made that singing what it was when we heard its revealing power. . These are the famous doctor’s reminiscences. He writes in his foreword that in his youth, before he rose out of the narrow surroundings of a hard time, he used to be greatly excited and stimulated in spirit by reading Smiles’ ‘‘Self Help.” Tlie book, he says, lost in later years its hold on the public, and more was the pity, he thought. But the war came to the rescue, providing a host of men who by self help had 'mastered tho bar of adverse, fortune and been advanced to the front ranks of tho nation. At their j head stood Lloyd George, Prime Minister of England, onco the “little Welsh attorney,H and Sir W. Robertson; who began as a private soldier in a cavalry regiment; the lives of these men whoso “footprints are on the sands of time,” though they have not gone before us, were added to tho Smiles publication, and tho old craving for “Self Help” was restored. To add to tho encourngament thus afforded to men to strive, Dr Coward publishes these reminiscences.

Those are deeply interesting, making tremendous appeal from tne human side.