CHARLES GARVICE.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 3, 1 April 1920, Page 15

CHARLES GARVICE.

"The death is announced of Charles Garvice, the novelist." — Cable News.. Mr Garvice's novels may not suit everybody, but there is overwhelming evidence that they sxxit most people. ' Wbexx the autbor t-ake-s his walks abroad, whether in main thorou gh fares or in slums, he must often feel as if he were making a triumpkant progress through streets speciallv decorated to his Ixonour with the jackets of his own romauces. For he seems to appeal to re-aders, of all classes as the following incidexxts bear witness. "WOT! NO GARVICE?" A story is told of a Costermonger who, attended by his lady friend, tried to buy a Garvice novel at the bookstall. There were none left — other hook lovers had stepped down before him. "Wot' that? Ain't got no Garvice in stock ? Theix you may take my word for it, young man, you don't know your busiAnother story is told of a gentleman of cultivated literary tastes, who was talking to a friend. "I've just been looking through two novels," he said. "One of them was by a So-and-so. It w'as a clever psychological study, and beautifully written ; but I found it ghastly dull. The other was by Garvice. My cri'tical sense disapproved of a -good deal— but I found it very interesting. A strange concensus of testimony. How as these thiixgs come about? They come about for the simple reason that Mr Garvice realized more clearly thaix almost every other novelist of his day that the primary function of a story-teller was*to teli a story. Mr Garvice started his professional car-eer as a playwriglxt, and a drama of his, "The Fishermau's Daughter," enjoyed a very successful run some years ago. He has also nxade a bid for immortality as a poet. But since "Eve and other verses," appeared he has given the public over fifty novels. Perhaps one of the secrets of his success is the fact that he does not take himself too seriously. A woman once asked him if he Ixad ever written anyihing that would live after he was gone. "Madam," he replied, "I am trying to write something that will enable me to live while I'm here." ":NO ACCOUNTING FOR TASTES. ' He did not mind tellxng a storey against himself. On one occasion he went into a book-seller's shop to buy a book by one of his favourite writers. "While paying for it," he afterwards confessed, "I chanced to see some of his own little six pennies,' " and asked with a nervous affectation of indifferance, "Do Garvice's books sell well?" "Oh! lor' yes, sir. said the worthy book-sefler wearily, 'He's vdry popular just now, though I'm sure I don't know why. He's no better than anyone else and a good deal worse than sogie, but people will have him, say what you will. There' s no accounting for tastes ?' '