BOOKS AND ITERS

Waikato Times, Volume 124, Issue 20743, 1 March 1939, Page 10

BOOKS AND ITERS

COMMENTS AND EXTRACTS

‘MEIN KAMPF” LEFT BOOK CLUB PLANS AN 180,000 WORD EXAMINATION The Left Book Club has* arranged to ' publish, as its April choice, “Mein : Kainpf Examined," by D. N. Pritt, ; K. C., M.P. The January issue of the 1 the Left News, the Club's monthly members’ journal, describes this | book as one “for which not merely the Left Book Club, but an immense public, on the Right as well as on the Left, has been waiting for many years. The work has grown remarkably under Prill’s hand. It was originally to be a book of no more than 90,000 words; but the author found that if lie were to do the job properly, and do it once and for all, twice that length would be necessary. “Pritt takes the Nazi testament and summarises its argument page by page; and during the course of the summary he translates verbatim for the purpose of criticising them) long passages from the original—passages not included in the current English “translation*” Startling Introduction The author’s introduction, in which he analyses this English “translation,” will be found to be hardly less startling than the text of the book itself; among other things Mr Pritt states that, of the seven or eight hundred pages of the original, only five—not fifty or five hundred—appear verbatim in the present English edition of Herr Hitler’s work. The publication of “Mein Kampf Examined” will be something far more than the publication of a book, however important; it will be, in all the circumstances, a major political event.”

“MY ESKIMO LIFE” INTENSELY INTERESTING STORY EXPERIENCES IN GREENLAND Pa-ul-Emile Victor, writer of “My Eskimo Life,” translated from the French by Jocelyn Godefroi, is a young French ethnographer, who had already had two years’ experience of conditions on the east coast of Greenland as leader of a scientific expedition which visited the country in 1934-35 and as a member of an expedition which crossed from the west, coast to the east in 1936 before he began the winter sojourn in Kangerdlugssuatsiak which he describes in “My Eskimo Life.” In addition to his scientific qualifications for the ethnographical and anthropological studies he wished to undertake, he possessed a fluent- command of the Eskimo language, which, he says, with the exception of Chinese, is perhaps the most complicated language in the world. Shared Community Life The great value-of M. Victor’s record of his stay lies in the fact that for six months he lived in a native hut, sharing in all respects the community life the 26 Eskimos * who inhabited 1 the place. The main part of his book j is in diary form, and in it he describes the daily events of this primitive existence, setting down hunting and fishing adventures, the customs he observed and the folk lore related to him by his companions. He has written a book which will appeal greatly to everyone interested in life In out-of-the-way places, though most people, no doubt, would rather read of it than experience it. j For instance, the cutting-up and do- j vouring in the community hut of an j “idiwitsi” seal, one which has been i stored till in an extremely high condition, would not appeal to everyone. Devouring of Seal Little by little a powerful odour pervaded the whole hut, which became gradually filled with the warm vapour that arose from the disembowelled creature on the floor. Amidst sounds of belching, jaws working, shouts of appreciation, and conversation from platform to platform, the seal’s dimensions gradually decreased, the carcase gaped wide open, and the intestines were released and flowed over the damp flagstones . . . Seated round the meat spread out on the skin stretched upon the muddy flagstones, Yosepi, Gaba, Tekri, Kristian, Odarpi and Mikidi were cutting up, carving, drinking large handfuls of sticky blood, shouting, licking their Angers, masticating, swallowing. Stuffing themselves with meat and fat, sucking at fragments of intent-ine, and handing wavin steaming portions to their respective wives. And the whole scene was played in the shadows thrown by the ounakrit, with a kind of feverish intensity In an atmosphere that suggested some strange ritual. Many readers will be* grateful to M. Victor for allowing them to be present at such scenes as this without having to experience the discomforts which were the author's lot. They will thank him, too, for the entertainment he provides in describing in a bright, humorous manner fascinating details of the life of a strange people. He has illustrated the book with many excellent photographs and line drawings.

BEGUN IN PRISON BUNNYAN’S ’’PILGRIM’S PROGRESS” DELAY IN RECOGNITION “Bunyan’s books in prison were few,” says the “Yorkshire Post,” commenting on the Bunyan celebrations. “He was allowed the Bible and Foxe’s ‘Book of Martyrs.’ His curious, rich, turbulent, and elemental imagination fed upon them, and before bis I long period of incarceration came to j an end he had begun the strange and 1 moving story of the ‘Pilgrim’s Pro- ! gress.’ Naturally the book angerefl j some of his co-religionists. It was imaginative and, therefore, evil. It was an allegory, a story. It was something not far removed from the drama, which the lesser Puritans abhorred. Bunyan, in fact, had to wait a long time before Hie cultured and the discerning recognised that what be bad written was a work of genius and contained some of the best prose in the language. Their recognition would have meant little to Bunyan.” AUSTRALIAN NOVELIST DESTINED FOR FAME THE BEST ROMANTIC NOVEL The Australian novelist Velia Ercole seems destined for fame. Since one of her short stories was judged best from about 1000 entries in Great Britain and America about two years ago, she has been concentrating on short story and serial writing. Her publishers persuaded her to have one serial published in book form. Velia didn’t think it up to standard, so she agreed to have it published under her second Christian name and her husband’s surname, Margaret Gregory .. . . and the critics in London hailed it as the best romantic novel of the month. KING KAURI (By Marie Andersen) A King there is who kingly dwells Amid our country’s hills and dells—• A King who towers so tail and straight You could not doubt his high estate. His name is known across the world; Ilis flag of fame has been unfurled; His praise is sung, his story told, Yet men would trade his life for gold. lie loves the sun, the earth the breeze. Man would deprive him of all these, j Dear God, our earnest prayer should be—- “ Protect our king, the kauri tree!”

| THE OLD TREE SPEAKS j . (By B. L. Going) Have yow heard the pine tree whisper In the quiet of the night, A soft and gentle sighing As from fairy souls in flight. A sadness fell upon me As l listened to its plea. And I pass you on the message The old tree gave to me . . . I have watched the March of Progress, i And have seen a City grow, From the time when every white man Was the Maoris sworn foe. It seemed hut a few years later That 1 heard the tramp of feet. And saw Pakeha and Maori march j United down the street. I They faced a common enemy, ! And some there were who (fled, But- the trees are keeping vigil j On Waikato’s further side. I have seen ".he change of fashion From the dainty crinoline. When feathers graced the bonnets j Over ringlets all ashine. But the girls are just as pretty I In Dame Fashion’s latest clothes lAs when they wore a hustle j And had parasols with bows. Now they drive to town by motor But I have seen the days When Grandma sat. demure behind A dashing pair of greys. I have watched the sturdy children As -up the hill they strode. The old school bell still calls them. 1 But they take another road. J There are some who, growing weary, Have sought, a place of rest; And found a quiet hermitage On the hill’s green breast. Now they’re pulling it to pieces And taking it away To build up parks and playgrounds Where youth 'can have its say. They are coming daily nearer To where I stand alone, And what have you for memory When I am gone ? I have sheltered you, my children, From hot suns and winter’s rain, So when they come to kill me Let my death be not in vain. I am not old and dying But majestic in my prime; And must T make a sacrifice To the .ruthless march of Time ? Then cut me up and make of me A bonfire on the ground. And call the little children And let. them dance around. Then lay my ashes gently In the old hill’s fond embrace. And give that, part of Galloway Park The name of “Garden Place.”

THE WAIKATO RIVER (By Marie Andersen) Silent and swift she passes by, Matching her mood to the changing sky : Now dull and drear like a soul that mourns, iNow bright and clear as a new day j dawns. I Perhaps on high a flying cloud Will hover awhile like a pearly shroud, And there where her brightest ripples j gleam | A willow trails her garments green. At evening when the night, comes down The river sleeps in a misty gown. 'And when the moonlight plays its The soul of the river has its dreams, Shadowy figures long since gone ;Mcet on the banks and leisurely don j Their feathered mats, lake (heir canoes, And paddle them out in ones and twos. The river thrills as if did of old, I The figures upon it meet and mold, -’And the husky calls of a dusky folk • Mingle again with the paddle-stroke. flowing river winds its way Through ferny banks to the salty bay, And its bush-clad hills that stand close i by : Guard her secrets and oftimes sigh For the days when the Maoris’ bare J feet trod So firmly -upon the virgin sod. And in all the land there was never Of the pakeha—the conquering race. And the river a highway north and j south From ils narrow source to its open

NEW ZEALAND AUTHOR lIONii I'liED BY Till-: KENTS COPIES OF BOOKS ACCEPTED The Duke and Duchess of Kent have, through their private secretaries, informed Rosemary Rees that they will have much pleasure in accepting a copy of two of her books—"My New Zealand Holiday- and “Sin® a Song o’ Sydney.” For her coming novel, now nearing completion. Miss vees lias divided the setting between London and Sussex. She has a country cottage on the l'arfamed Downs.