(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
_Miss Pandora_ (HEINEMANN) is proclaimed by its publishers to be a first
novel. Probably, however, it will not also be a last, as the author,
M. E. NORMAN, has a considerable gift for tale-telling. Perhaps I may
be permitted to hope that he (or she) will use it next time to illuminate
a rather more attractive set of characters. I don't think that the circle
in which _Pandora_ moved contains a single person whom I should wish to
meet twice. There was _Pandora_ herself, who was dark and Spanish-looking,
with an origin wrapped in mild mystery. There was her friend, a futile
lady-novelist; there were three quite disagreeable men, a spoilt child
and an old lady suffering from senile dementia. Oh, and I nearly forgot
the sniffy neighbour, who, having cut _Pandora_ dead for half the book,
was revealed in the second half as her mother. Add to this that _Pandora_
had a past (and a present too, for that matter) with the husband of
the lady novelist, and you will, I think, agree with me that they were
a queer lot. Also I have seldom read a novel with such an unsatisfactory
ending. It almost seemed as though M. E. NORMAN, having got the affair
into a tangle, was too bored to unravel it. I am by no means sure,
for example, that he (or she) had any clearer ideas about _Pandora's_
paternity than I have. The depressing conclusion is that, while I
readily admit that the writing of it shows originality and promise,
_Miss Pandora_ is hardly the novel I should have expected to be produced
in a paper famine.
* * * * *
Before I began to unweave _The Web of Fraeulein_ (HODDER AND STOUGHTON)
a dreadful and, as it turned out, an unnecessary fear seized me that Miss
_Katharine Tynan_ had written a spy-novel of the present day. Imagine
then my relief when I found that the story dates back some thirty or
forty years, and that, although _Fraeulein_ was really as pestilential a
woman as ever became governess to a respectable British family, espionage
was not part of her game. With uncanny skill Miss TYNAN relates the
influence that this flat-footed German woman gained in the _Allanson_
household; but I must protest, in justice to our race, that we have
not many families so lacking in enterprise as to allow themselves to be
enmeshed in such a web as this. In short I can dislike this German product
very cordially but without for a moment understanding the source of the
devastating power she had over others. You must not, however, imagine that
the web casts a gloom over the whole book, for when _Fraeulein_ is not
on the scene--and we do have some holidays from her--those _Allansons_
whom she had not marked down could be attractively natural and gay;
and the younger _Allanson_ girl is as delightful a portrait as any in
Miss TYNAN's generous gallery.
* * * * *
I think I never met a writer who splashed language about with a greater
recklessness than Miss MARION HILL. I see that one of the reviews of that
previous best seller of hers, _The Lure of Crooning Water_, speaks of
its literary charm. Well, there are, of course, many varieties of charm,
but "literary" is hardly the epithet that I should myself apply to the
undoubted attractions of _A Slack Wire_ (LONG). This very bustling story
of the marriage between a variety artist and a quiet, not to say
somewhat prigsome, young engineer is told for the most part in the purest
American, an engaging and vivid medium with which I am but imperfectly
acquainted. Further, Miss HILL's command of words seems to be gloriously
unhampered by tradition. "It was with a supercargo of relief even heavier
than usual that he found it" is a sample that I select at random. No,
I certainly do not think that "literary" would be the epithet. But I
am far from saying that there is no charm in the tale, of a sort. Not
specially original perhaps the situation of the Bohemian wife brought
to an ultra-Philistine home; but Miss HILL manages to keep it going
briskly enough. And, as I have hinted, you never know what she will say
next, or how. The whole thing would make such an admirable film-play that
I can hardly believe this idea to have been absent from the intention of
its author. The final sensation-scene, in which _Violet_ uses her old
wire-walking agility to prevent a catastrophe (never ask me how!),
would make a fortune on the screen. Poor _Violet_, I may tell you,
had been born in England, and, on the death of her rightful guardians,
was "farmed off to peasants, who boarded her because it would cancel
their poor-tax." I feel somehow that if I could grasp this reference
it would make much in _Violet_ clear. But so far it eludes me.
* * * * *
If powers of absorption are still left to you for any battles save those
of to-day, you will find a vivid account of Flodden in _The Crimson
Field_ (WARD, LOCK). I won't believe it is Mr. HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE's
fault that the fighting scenes of his story left me cold; the blame
lies rather with the Hunnish times in which we live. While describing
the beauty of the Yorkshire dales and the lives of their inhabitants,
Mr. SUTCLIFFE held me in the hollow of his hand. But when he started to
tell of the valiant deeds of the yeoman-hero, _Sylvester Demain_, who was
knighted on the field of battle and won the maiden of high degree, I was
released from that bondage. Indeed, I think Mr. SUTCLIFFE was no more
anxious to leave the dales than I was, for, when the march to Flodden
begins, his style becomes almost bewilderingly jumpy, so often does
he look over his shoulder to see--and let us know--what is happening
to those who were left behind. The fight, however, when it does come,
is strenuous enough, and in the midst of it KING JAMES--German papers
please copy--stands out as a pattern of chivalry.
* * * * *
[Illustration: HISTORICAL PARALLELS.
_At the Siege of Carthage._
"LOOK OUT, BOYS! HERE COMES ANOTHER SAUCY SCIPIO!"]
* * * * *
A Dickens Revival.
"WANTED--Fat Boy for yard: 10s. weekly."
_Dublin "Daily Independent."_
* * * * *
Eighteen tailors from Leeds have been arrested at Dublin as deserters from
the Army. As nine tailors make a man this is a net gain of two recruits.