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New Zealand Tablet, 22 May 1919, Page 26

NOTES

E. Temple Thurston Apropos of a letter from a correspondent concerning a book by this writer, a few remarks may not be out of place. Mr. Thurston is a popular novelist, and he does Ireland the doubtful honor of placing the scene of most of his stories there. A man who wears red glasses sees red, and an old scholastic maxim says that whatever is received into the mind is received according to the manner of the recipient. Therefore if we want to find out how reliable a writer's views on anything are, it is important to know something about the writer. Without going into the matter deeply, let us simply say that Mr. Thurston is totally unfitted to understand the Irish character, and that his materialism and his unspirituality color his vision deplorably. His books, besides, are shallow and unreal, and as portraits of Irish life they are worth exactly nothing. We are not unduly hard on this writer. Let those of our readers who have read Traffic recall its sordidness and its coarseness. When we remember it we cannot help associating it with a certain divorce case which came off about the time the book fell into our hands. That divorce case explained many things. Mrs. Thurston, who as a Cork girl, nee Katherine Madden, wrote a few Irish novels which are incomparably better reading than her husband's. We have said enough, and left enough unsaid, too, for our readers to gather why we do not like Mr. Thurston's books, and why we do not want our readers to like them. V : v .,-...-.■•. The Thomas Moore Anniversary - ' : ;-; * We heard with no little pleasure that preparations are in train to celebrate this year in Dunedin the Moore anniversary. It is the custom of supercilious critics to patronise Moore's poetry and to account it as very second fate, but it is only, people with heart and head who can realise what Moore has done for Irishmen and women all the world over. 1 His melodies have fanned the flame of the national spirit in many 'ah hour when the frosts of adversity bit hard and the skies frowned gloomily. To exiles 'from Erin what a holy spell his words have at all times "how their hearts lea™ &^--ss- Trnvoa ■ - r —of Let Erin, Remember,, and how near to. tearsthey

are when the sad, sweet, unspeakable melody of the ' -\ Coulin is sung. What Burns is to Scotland, what Heine „ ] is to Germany, what Beranger is to France, all that and' more is Tom Moore to-Ireland.' The critics -may have'their twilight twitterings' and moonlight.mewlings '■'; but give us; the dear old Celtic airs which our national poet has set to such : lovely words. 1 A song of u Moore always-wins favor at a concert, because it always finds its Way:- to the hearts of many of the audience, r Spirito Gentih or Du Hast Ferlen- and Diamanten,- sung by renowned artists, will not have half -the.-real effect of The Last Glimpse of Erin or The: Minstrel Boy, nor will half those who pretend they like the classic pieces best be sincere. Let us therefoi'e co-operate : with the Glee Club in order to make the anniversary a success worthy of Tom Moore. By the way, we have more than once thought of asking why there are not more Irish songs sung -at our concerts. Few really national songs are sung. When did you hear The Croppy Boy, or Who Fears to Speak, or The Lament for Owen Roe sung last in New Zealand? When did you hear one of the old songs like.- Savon nieen ~ Deelish or Shale Agra sung? And have you ever seen-a Wexford Reel, or the Threehanded Reel danced on a. Colonial stage? Examine your consciences, all ye, patriots, and make a firm resolution. Camouflage Everyone knows now what camouflage means. The war has added this new word, with many others, to the English language, and to-morrow we shall find it" in the dictionaries. Probably the best translation for the French word is the American "fake." It may be objected by purists that "fake" is slang. Even if it is, no more can be said for the original, which is decidedly a slang term, used, by scene painters and also by those whose business it was. before the curtain rose at the theatres to convert actresses of sixty into Marguerites of sixteen, or to change heavy te/iorj rahitxti into juvenile Wilhelms. The word is new indeed, but the idea is old. A writer in Mlinset/'$ finds that camouflage was practised, at the siege of Troy when the wooden horse was employed to introduce the soldiers within the enemies' gates. lie quotes Macbeth to show that even in its most up-to-date form it was known to Shakespere: Siward—-" What wood is this before us?" Menteth—"The wood of Birnam." Malcolm—" Let every soldier hew him down a bough and bear ; t before him ; thereby shall we shadow the numbers of our host, and make discovery err in report of us." It is also pointed out that the Indian hunter was a past master in the art. And anyone who knows anything of our natural history is aware that the wild animals and the birds can give points to the best modern exponent of the art. Some Books to Read A correspondent would be glad to hear of some good healthy stories for light reading. There is no end to the number that we might suggest, but we always try to introduce fiction that has a claim to literary merit as well as mere imaginative interest. If our correspondent is one of those who will insist, on excluding the oldest and the best and regarding Dickens and Scott and Thackeray as too dry and too heavy, we might do worse than advise an introduction to George Birmingham,- a Church of Ireland parson whe has written some exceedingly clever novels m lighter ..vein. Spanish Gold is most popular work, and it is unique of its kind. For sheer, innocent, irresponsible mirth it is hard to beat. To read it is to fall in love with it straightway. . It is published in a cheap edition like all the best books..'For it is worth remembering that it is only the books that have stood the test of time to ,some. extent that survive the expensive first ksue. s, He - also wrote The Northern Iron, '■' si, stirring story of the Rebellion of 'Ninety-Eight, written from a nationalist point of view,: for Geo™** TUrmincrham is a true , X 7 O " O

Irishman. The now well-known works of the "two cousins who masqueraded. under the names of Somracrville. and Ross, are good reading. They have undoubted liter f /.merit and are sympathetic sketches of Irish life, • even though written from the viewpoint of those who i looked £ out on Ireland from > the a windows of» what the j Leader,, used to cal the "Garrison." That.is to say that they , are colored here and .there; with the land r lord's ~ views. 0 : ; Dorothy ; Conyers ; is [the a pen-name of another Irish lady > whose , stories '- are worth reading. She , has the : -.hunting microbe badly, and those; a who have ever- known the tense, joy of waiting impatiently on an impatient horse, beside a, covert on- a hunting morning, while the hounds were busy in the furze, will enjoy her books. An American priest has written quite recently three fine novels dealing with' industrial problems. Their names are: The ' Shepherd of the North; Gold is Tried by Fire; and The Heart of d Man. All three are good. All Marion Crawford's""ltalian stones are to be recommended. His sister, Mrs. J Fraser, -has also written a few novels that are well above the averago. And there is no need to recall Father Sheehan to our readers, we hope: If our . correspondent • has not enough to go On with for the rest of the winter he might also try The Magnetic North, by Elizabeth Robbins, and Richard Carvel, and The Grossing, by Winston Churchill. The best war-novel is Sonia, by Stephen Mac Kenna : and we may be permitted to say that the much boomed Loom of Youth was written by a boy—and shows it, too. The reviews of it are unreliable: "not worth the money" is our honest verdict. : —■ —8