Books Reviewed

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 471, 28 September 1928, Page 14

Books Reviewed

THE EXILED ARTIST. MR FORREST REID’S exquisite art —it was praised here a few months ago in a notice of “Demophon”—has not been more beautifully shown than in "Apostate,” now published in Constable’s Miscellany (3/6 net), the writer’s "voyage of rediscovery” back to the early moments which “somehow opened a door” into his secret world—that world “whose image was stamped upon our soul before we opened our eyes on earth, and all our life is little more than a trying to get back there, our art than a mapping of its mountains and streams.” The artist’s feeling of exile from a world which at sudden moments gleams before his eyes again and is the perpetual longing of his heart, this feeling Mr Reid knows as keenly as Walter de la Mare, for Instance, whose poetry is its endless expression; and in “Apostate” he looks back to its moments of breathcatching vision. It is a beautiful book, “reducing childhood,” in Lamb’s phrase, by the magic of art, a wand in memory’s hand. “Apostate.” Forrest Reid. Constable’s Miscellany: Constable and Co. Our copy from the publishers. Another from Jeffery Farnol. Marmaduke Anthony Ashley John le la Pole Vane-Temperley, Bart., “the iast and very finest of a long line of Hue gentlemen,” was fed up with the world and with himself. At 45 he thought himself an old man. His doctor said “Fiddlesticks!”- —and Marmaiuke Anthony, etc., etc., set off on foot In search of vanished youth. He found Eve-Ann Ash; then, because of EveAnn, love; and, because of love, youth. That is Jeffery Farnol’s latest book In a nutshell. Sir Marmaduke quarrels with Squire Brandish over Eve-Ann, a duel is arranged; but the squire Is murdered before the duellists meet: murdered with a shot-gun—and Sir Marmaduke finds Eve-Ann with the smoking gun in her hands. Thereafter the story follows their flight to Lonlon, where it receives a new Interest by the entry of Mr Shrig, whose trade is law and whose line is murders. “Werry much so! Murders is meat and drink to me.” Shrig is the best character in the book; hut the author has written better books. “The Quest of Youth,” Jeffery Farnol. Sampson Low, Marston and Co.. Ltd. Our sopy from Robertson and Mullens, Ltd., Melbourne. “The Fighting Wades.” For 20 long and embittered years the widow Wade kept up her lonely fight to run her ranch in Long Shadow Valley. In all that time, she never forgave the butterfly girl who took her son away from the Valley and the cow country, leaving the mother alone. So when the grim old woman • heard that Fanchon, the offspring of that unhappy marriage, was coming to Spur Tracks ranch to visit her, she prepared a reception for her granddaughter well calculated to overawe the girl. Fanchon arrives—so do trouble, and a murder that wasn’t, and some cattle thieving, and similar things. “The “Fighting Wades,” a new Western novel by John H. Hamlin, is a quite good book of its kind.

“The Fighting Wades.” John H. Hamlin. Hodder and Stoughton, Ltd. Our copy from the publishers’ Australian representative.

Songs Of The Sea. A muster of sea-songs, as distinfuished from shanties, written for the most part by seamen and sung on board ship during the closing years of the age of sail, 1890-1920. That is Mr Rex Clements’s own description of an interesting little book, a real contribution to the literature of sail and sea. The songs are divided into three classes, historical ballads, professional songs and ditties, sentimental and humorous. Apparently the main characteristic of the old-time sailor was his love for laying it on thick, whether the “it” was sentiment or heroism. We can only regret, with Mr Clements, that many of the songs the old sailors sang were too robust in sentiment to be included in this very interesting little collection. Stories of the Theatre. A shilling book of good stories of the theatre. Many are old, but none the worse for that; many are new—at least to us. Every reader will enjoy a dip into this collection, whether he brings up a story he has long relished or adds a new one to his treasury. One sample at random: Once, when the Lyceum propertymaster was rehearsing some thunderclaps during the progress of a storm scene, Irving suddenly stopped the rehearsal and said angrily: “No, no I That won’t do. Not a bit like it!” “Excuse me, Sir ’enry,” he remarked. “But I wasn’t rattling the sheet just then. That ’appened to be the genuine thunder outside.” But Irving was not satisfied. “Quite probably!” he retorted. “But the Almighty's thunder is not necessarily good enough for the Lyceum.” “The Best Theatre Stories.” The Richards Press, Ltd. Our copy from the publishers. A Storied Island A storied' island off the coast of New Zealand, three children in quest of “something different,” hidden caves and treasure hunts, provide an exciting foundation for the latest book from the pen of Edith Howes, author of “The Cradle Ship,” “The Sun’s Babies,” “Rainbow Children” and other

tales familiar to the young reading public of the Dominion. “Silver Island” and the exploits of Jim, Enid, and the credulous nine-year-old Wuffles, will fire the imagination of every child who loves to" be lured away from the mundane world of lesson books down the paths of romance, where great deeds and greater adventures may be shared for the reading. “Silver Island," by Edith Howes. Our SSs2j ro ?'J he Publishers, Wliitcombe and Tombs, Ltd., Christchurch. GREAT prose.

i { Tt TREASURY of English Prose,*' JIA. chosen by Mr Logan Pearsall Smith, was first published nine years ago. It is now reprinted m Constable’s Miscellany, a three-and-sixpenny series, which has made a distinguished beginning. Ail the passages are short, few covering more than a page, many much less. Mr Smith has deliberately chosen to choose extracts which show English prose standing on the splendid heights of eloquence. That excellence of prose which it reveals in carrying the burden of narrative, description, or argument, carrying it easily, smoothly, strongly, far and long, he has wisely left out of account; for how can it be exhibited save in complete books, or at least in very long extracts? Writers whose merit is their weaving a close, even texture, all of a piece, who never burn with a suddenly brighter flame, are not represented, therefore; but here are scores of noble and beautiful passages, on which a man may try the advice of Keats, prefixed to the book: “Let him . . . read a certain page of full Poesy or distilled Prose, and let him wander with it, and muse upon it, and reflect from it, and bring home to it, and prophesy upon it, and dream upon it: until it becomes stale—But when will it do so? Never.” “A Treasury of English Prose.** Edited by Logan Pearsall Smith. Constable’s Miscellany: Constable and Co., London. Our copy from the publishers.