Jottings

Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 15, 23 October 1931, Unnumbered Page

Jottings

i R. HAROLD NICOLSON was hap--pily inspired when, as he himself says, two considerations, one money, the other letters from listeners, decided him to publish some extracts from his weekly wireless talks during last autumn and the present spring. We have them in "People and Things." The broadcaster is in much the same Position as the actor. He says his "little piece" at the microphone, ani there is nothing more beyond the remembrance of what he has said. But the broadcaster has this advantage over the actor: he can publish his "little pieces," and in Mr. Nicholson's case it was a happy _ inspiration, since during his thirtyseven weekly causeries there was so much of current history, shrewdly observed, that was worth prescrvinga fortuitous blending of wit and wisdom. Of last year’s Academy he said he had "seldom seen so many portraits of educational ladies at any exhibition. They make one quail, The flash in the eye of the generals and the udmirals is but a puny little light compared with that searchlight gleam which emanates from the eye, from both eyes, of the principals of ladies’ colleges... . In contrast to our distinguished women, our distinguished men of science, politics and municipal administration look positively benign." & * g ISS MARGUERITE STEEN, whose novel, "When the Wind Blows," has just been published, was an actress before she turned her attention seriously to writing. She lives in the country in a cottage built to her own design, and also has a flat in the Latin Quarter of Paris. = ' x 6 7 "WHE HERO." by Herr Alfred Neuman, is ironically named, and the ex-cavalry officer who commits a political murder is but a sorry hero, somewhat unconvincing and melodramatic. The story starts when. he is making a living as a dancer in a restaurant, meantime making plans to shoot his quarry. In this he is helped by one of the habitues of the restaurant, a doctor, who has been acquitted of killing his wife only because there was insufficient evidence to convict him. Another of the puppets — so cleverly worked by Herr Neumann is the mis-shapen dwarf Paula, with her unswerving devotion to Hoff. In the final analysis, the murderer cannot resist overwhelming impulse to revisit the scene of his crime and confess his share in it. The whole grim subject is treated with brilliance and restraint, und makes intensely interesting reuding.

Charles Higham is thus presented: "Magnificently self-made, perhaps flambuoyant. But in a world where there are so many drab and flabby failures there is room for flaming success as spectacular as his. He is a rabid sentimentalist, his office simply overflowing with the Better Spirit in Business, flowers, and Christian names." Of Jacob Epstein: "He has the simplicity and lack of affectation of all authentic artists, his manner is diffident and retiring, and in appearance he looks like a plumber." Of Paul Robeson: "A negro by accident of birth: the supremely important thing is that he is a magnificent artist." There is this pen picture of Miss Radclyffe Hall, author of "The Well of Loneliness," which Miss Mannin found a lovely and sensitive piece of work: "A beautiful head, sleek, closecropped fair hair with a slight wave, a charming, boyish smile which light up the pale gravity of her face...a cameo rather than a mosaic." And to Mr. Beverley Nichols is accorded the justice so often denied to him and to his work: "A brilliant pen, a great fecling for life below the sur face of things, and sensitive response to beauty, whether on canvas or the smell of lilac on the. wind." The ineffable Osbert Sitwell irresistably reminds the vivacious chronicler of "a large, elegant fish, a salmon, @ sturgeon, perhaps a very superior cod. Colourless. Sexless. Complacent." These confessions and impressions range over a wide and fascinating field, but Miss Manni returns always to her: insistent doctrine ef the need for cours ageous living, illimitable experience, self-vealisation. Her last word is: "If Man has any soul fo have alive it is this-his consciousness of Life, ang all that connotes of earthly vitality, deep-springing delight, and equally deep-springing pain."

I "Slaves," by Mr. Frank Pollard, the scene is laid on a slave ship which sails from the Gulf of Guinea to Barbados, laden with over four hundred slaves. Mr. Pollard has made an intensive study of the subject, and from his material has written a realistic story of an ugly part of our maritime history. The slaver’s fight with a pir--ate ship is thrilling. The conditions under which the slaves were taken to Barbados and battened under hatches were so horrible that the marvel is any of them survived the voyage. Mr, Pollard has steeped himself in his period, and also in its seamanship. Some of his descriptions of the manoeuvring of sailing ships are masterly.