Our Fortnightly Book Review

Radio Record, Volume V, Issue 21, 4 December 1931, Unnumbered Page

Our Fortnightly Book Review

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By

MARGARET

KENNEDY

jyiss KENNEDY is very subtle and analytical in her latest novel, which is primarily the story of some crucial days in the history of a rising novelist and dramatist, who has three successful plays running simultaneously in London, and ‘still remains unspoiled and uuspotted from the wicked world which makes much of him for the nonce. Realising, however, that his footing in the social edifice is somewhat insecure, to the utmost of his power, he lives up to his reputation for wit and bonhomie, and blithely accepts an invitation for a week-end at Syranwood, which is the happy hunting-ground of a house party, which beginning on a note of debonair gaiety, crashes at the end to something like disaster for several of the protagonists, . At first. however, all goes well, and Hugo is fortune’s favourite, sought by society beauties as, "the most amusing person, my dear," and pursued by photographers and paragraphists, his very shoe-laces being imbued with news value. At the stately home of England which Miss Kennedy has selected as the milieu of her story, he is surrounded by celebrities and scions of ancient and modern society, the bright particular star in the firmament being Lady Aggie, a frisky grass-widow, with the face of a Madonna and the inelinations of a wanton. Hugo she endeavours io enslave; he continuing to be naive, agreeable, and romantic by turns, in fact a Thoroughly Nice Young Man, until he falls from grace. Froth and frivol prevail, risque stories and illicit love-making. In the background hover two charming young things, who, after recent emergence from schoolroom, live quite amusing days in the wake of the gay concourse of iridescent human butterflies who preen und flutter and go through their tricks to their own entire satisfaction. Indications of the reactions of Solange and Marianne to the ennuyed week-enders, the poise and intelligent intentness of modern youth, are excellently well conveyed, and its candid comments on the denizens of Vanity Fair entertaining to a degree. One is perhaps more intrigued with Miss Kennedy's understanding of youth's devastating iconoclasm in its penetrating analysis of its elders, than by the portraits of those sophisticates themselyes, who nevertheless ure presented with a consummate and mordant. satire. The portrait of Ford Usher, red-faced, middle-class, with a brilliant scientific mind and clumsy methods of tracking down his artistocratie lady love is a masterpiece of portraiture; and there are also the histrionic Sir Adrian, making desperate social efforts and ignoring sordid family ties Which insistently intrude themselyes; Gibbie the Good Man; the egoistic and inquisite Corny Cooke, who on principle was the last to go to bed because he hated the thought of missing anything; and the inimitable octe fenarian hostess, with her past history of romantic promiscuity and present entire absence of tact. Miss Kennedy has remarkable powers of observation. "At Syranwood the surface was almost flawless. The mechanism, the apparatus, dinner table, flowers, women’s fair, long-chinned faces, bloom of peaches in Wedg.wood baskets, all exquisite; but there was nothing exquisite about the parrot noises made by the guests, no originality, no real freedom, and no beauty beyond that which money can secure." By way of contrast is the supercilious Lady le Fanu’s comments on the house where her lover, Ford Usher, spent his raw youth. "The dining-room smelt: of pickles and whisky; the drawing-room like a public eall-box-Gold Flake and people; Mrs. Usher’s room of alcohol and moth-ball; the ladyhelp’s (who used scent: instead of soap) of benzine and cosmetics; and the larder like a stopped-up sink." Fickle favour vf the grert isswithdrawn from Hugo, already at heart weary of an anomalous position, and he turns with gladness to the fresh youth of the girl Marianne, who consoles him and sets him afresh on the upward path, with a few home-truths and a Shyly candid revelation of childish devotion. And so with a vague indication of future romantic fruition, Hugo more or less Silently steals away, purposely boarding the wrong train and disappearing into the limbo of the socially unknown, There is little plot, and the merit of the novel lies in brilliant charneterisation and clear-sightedness anent shows and shadows of 2 stratum of the world and its ways. A notable book, although not altogether up to the stimdard established for herself by the author of "The Coustunt Nymph."

R. C. P. HAWKES’S "Wind! tr thes Bus-tops" is a charming guide to London. Now it is to an‘old saddieshop in Long Acre that he introduces you, now to the "strange smells and tramontane colour’ of Soho, that "pastiche of bits of Paris, Como, Naples, and Madrid." A ‘Punch and Judy Show or a Bloomsbury party, the "Scotchman’s Cinema" or a Prom. provide opportunities for the author’s nimble pen. Mr. Hawkes is the complete Londoner, and would agree, we feel sure, with Dr. Johnson. "Siz," said that great man, "when a man ig tired of London, -he is tired of life," 2 x = "TVIGH SUMMER’ is a beautifully« written ‘tale, characterised by excellent pen portraits and Sense of subtleties of social reactions for which its author, Mr. Richard Church, is to be congratulated. The story itself concerns the somewhat unoriginal theme of revolt of a woman against wnhappy matrimonial yenture, and subsequent effort to hew out a niche in the temple of worldly success. There is; in fact, but little plot; the style’s the thing, emphatically, in this ‘subtly, presented story. — g % ® i LEASURABLE anticipation is exe cited by the announcement that Mr. Eden Philpotts has written a volume entitled "Essays in Little,’ touching upon such diverse subjects as the right use of words; Dartmoor in some of its many moods; a great German philosopher whose influence of moral ity and mentality has been extraordinarily far-reaching; and the author’s hope for the future in "the present Winter-time of disillusion and undiscipline." Mr. Philpotts is known to very muny readers of novels and plays in this Dominion, who will welcome him in a uew literary role. w LJ * STUDENTS of the art of the shor# story do uot need to be told that Mr. A, IX. Coppard is excellent in his particular genre. He is so accomplished a craftsman, such a master of the delicate skill and knowledge that are requisite in this branch of fiction, that his new volume of ten tales en titled "Nixey’s Harlequin," will be sought with avidity by those who appreciate his work. The stories touchy on many aspects of the passing show, but perhaps the best of all is that of the Polish nobleman and English noyele ist who hold rendezvous in a tumble« down .hostelry in Austria,