FIRE IN THE BELLY

New Zealand Listener, Volume 14, Issue 349, 1 March 1946, Page 9

FIRE IN THE BELLY

ANGRY PENGUINS, 1945. 95 and Harris, Melbourne. (Reviewed by David Hall) F you have the authentic fire in the belly, you need not wear the polite expression on the face. Some red-hot fragments can be plainly seen to glow inside several of these Angry Penguin bellies, and the grimace is tortured. This should not worry you. Angry Penguins do not write to please. Serious chaps, .they are elders of a new church, They prophesy. Hearken unto them! When I lately had the pleasure of revisiting Australia, it was difficult to ig-. nore the sense of their Imperial destiny which has overtaken many of the citizens of the Commonwealth. Inspired by his vast, partially-developed, continental hinterland or by the metropolitan spires of Sydney, the Australian is loudly trumpeting his Australian-ness. We in New Zealand still palely look to battered London as our cultural capital. Our brothers across the Tasman gaze robustly inwards; the sun shines out of their own navel. This is in many ways an endearing trait, but it is not one which is shared by Angry Penguins. Angry Penguins belong to the world. Their outlook is as wide as the sky. At least, they can see as far as America. Angry Penguins, 1945, is a thick wad of serious writing, with an international flavour. The editors cast their net wide. Two letters of Rilke are translated. James T. Farrell writes on Hollywood, There is verse by Australians, New Zealanders, Americans, and Nicholas Moore, of England. There are short stories; and here the New Zealand contributors do us more honour than our poets. There is a fine and typical story by Frank Sargesen,

and those by Greville Texidor and G, R. Gilbert show aidevelopment in their art. Angry Penguins, 1945, may at present be judged more by its criticism than its original work. The editors have made a strenuous attempt to cover the main topics that make up modern Kultur. Their scrutiny extends to the cinema, music, art and jazz (which they place by itself). They reproduce two of the stark, terrible pictures of Arthur Boyd, an Australian wild man. There is a stimulating sociology section whose introduction may serve as the editors’ manifesto: " .. . we subscribe to no known political doctrine, we are making investigations not conclusions, But if we are accused of politics, we certainly acknowledge our allegiance to the principle of a freely functioning intelligence and sensibility. . . .’ They dislike regimentation, the totalitarian tendencies of the age. They also dislike humbug. Every here and there is a pleasant little jab at the writers who are self-consciously building up the pretentious fabric of "Australian culture." Travellers have described how penguins anxious to dive into the sea will line up along the brink of the ice floe and wait there jostling each other till one is foolish enough to flop into the water. He is the test penguin, and if he is not eaten by some lurking enemy, all is well; the rest plunge in after him. Angry Penguins also are willing to stick their necks out a bit. Mistakes there may be in this volume, gaucheries, failures of taste or of skill, but it does not lack either courage, seriousness, or integrity. Moreoyer, in spite of its supra-national character, it does achieve a remarkable sense of unity. I hope New Zealanders will support Angry Penguins doubly, by buying it and by sending it their best work.