(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
I am wondering whether, among the myriad by-products of the War, there
should be numbered a certain note of virility hitherto (if he will forgive
me for saying so) foreign to the literary style of Mr. E. TEMPLE THURSTON.
Because I have certainly found _Enchantment_ (UNWIN) a far more vigorous
and less saccharine affair than previous experience had led me to expect
from him. For which reason I find it far and away my favourite of the
stories by this author that I have so far encountered. I certainly think
(for example) that not one of his Cities of Beautiful Barley-Sugar contains
any figures so alive as those of _John Desmond_, the hard-drinking Irish
squireen, and _Mrs. Slattery_, his adoring housekeeper. There is red blood
in both, and not less in _Charles Stuart_, a hero whose earlier adventures
with smugglers, secret passages and the like have an almost STEVENSONIAN
vigour. All the life of impoverished Waterpark, with its wonderful
drawing-room full of precarious furniture, is excellently drawn. I
willingly allow Mr. THURSTON so much of his earlier manner as is implied in
the (quite pleasant) conceit of the fairy-tale. The point is that the real
tale here is neither of fairies nor of sugar dolls, but of genuine human
beings, vastly entertaining to read about and quite convincingly credible.
I can only entreat the author to continue this rationing of sentiment for
our mutual benefit.
* * * * *
When a book rejoices in such a title as _The Amazing Years_ (HODDER AND
STOUGHTON) and begins with a prosperous English family contemplating their
summer holiday in August 1914, you may be tolerably certain beforehand of
its subject-matter. When, moreover, the name on the title-page is that of
Mr. W. PETT RIDGE, you may with equal security anticipate that, whatever
troubles befall this English family by the way, they will eventually reach
a happy ending, and find all for the best in the best of all genially
humorous worlds. As indeed it proves. But of course the _Hilliers_ were
exceptionally fortunate in the fact that when the crash came they had one
of those quite invaluable super-domestics whom Mr. PETT RIDGE delights in
to steer them back to prosperity. The story tells us how the KAISER
compelled the _Hilliers_ to leave "The Croft," and how that very capable
woman, _Miss Weston_, restored it to them again, chiefly by the aid of her
antique shop; and to anyone who has recently been a customer in such an
establishment this result fully explains itself. I need not further enlarge
upon the theme of the book. Your previous knowledge of Mr. PETT RIDGE'S
method will enable you to imagine how the various members of the _Hillier_
household confront the changes brought by The Amazing Years; but this will
not make you less anxious to read it for yourself in the author's own
inimitable telling. I won't call this his best novel; now and again,
indeed, there seemed rather too much padding for so slender a plot; but,
take it for all in all, and bearing in mind the strange fact that we all
love to read about events with which we are already familiar, I can at
least promise you a cheery and optimistic entertainment.
* * * * *
_Jan Ross_, grey-haired at twenty-seven, but sweet of face and of a most
taking way, found herself unexpectedly confronted, a year or two ago, with
a "job." It was eventually to include the looking after a certain _Peter_,
of the Indian Civil Service, a thoroughly good sort, who by now is making
her as happy as she deserves; but in the first place it meant the care of a
little motherless niece and nephew and their protection from a scoundrelly
father. How successfully she has been doing it and what charmingly human
babies are her charges, _Tony_ and _Fay_, you will realise when I say that
it is Mrs. L. ALLEN HARKER who has been telling me all about _Jan and Her
Job_ (MURRAY). You will understand, too, how pleasantly peaceful, how
utterly removed from the artificially forced crispness of the special
correspondent, is the telling of the story; but you must read it yourself
to learn how simply and naturally the writer has used the coming of the War
for her last chapter, and above all to get to know not only _Jan_ herself
but also that most loyal of comrades, her pal _Meg_. _Meg_, indeed, is
almost as much in the middle of the stage as the friend whose nursemaid she
has elected to become; and as the completion of her own private happiness
has to remain in doubt until the coming of peace, since Mrs. HARKER has
resolutely refused to guarantee the survival of the soldier-sweetheart, you
must join me in wishing him the best of good fortune. He is still rubbing
it into the Bosches. Perhaps some day the author will be able to reassure
us.
* * * * *
When I have said that _Twentieth-Century France_ (CHAPMAN AND HALL) is
rather over-weighted by its title my grumble is made. To deal adequately
with twentieth-century France in a volume of little more than two hundred
amply-margined pages is beyond the powers of Miss M. BETHAM-EDWARDS or of
any other writer. But, under any title, whatever she writes about France
must be worth reading, and to-day of all times the French need to be
explained to us almost as much as we need to be explained to them. Miss
BETHAM-EDWARDS can be trusted to do this good work with admirable sympathy
and discretion. Here she writes intimately of many people whose names are
already household words in France. The more books we have of the kind the
better. VOLTAIRE, we are reminded, once said that "when a Frenchman and an
Englishman agree upon any subject we may be quite sure they have reason on
their side." Well, they are agreeing at present upon a certain subject with
what the Huns must regard as considerable unanimity. If in the last century
there was any misunderstanding between us and our neighbours it is now in a
fair way to be removed to the back of beyond; and in this removal Miss
EDWARDS has lent a very helping hand.
* * * * *
What chiefly impressed me about _Marshdikes_ (UNWIN) was what I can only
call the blazing indiscretion of the chief characters. To begin with, you
have a happily married young couple asking a nice man down for the week-end
to meet a girl, and as good as telling him that the party has been
arranged, as the advertisements put it, with a view to matrimony. Passing
from this, we find a doctor (surely unique) blurting out to a fellow-guest
at dinner that a mutual friend had consulted him for heart trouble. To
crown all, when the match arranged by the young couple has got as far as an
engagement, the wife must needs go and tell the girl that the whole affair
was manoeuvred by herself. Which naturally upset that apple-cart. It had
also the effect of making me a somewhat impatient spectator of the
subsequent developments, mainly political, of the plot. I smiled, though,
when the hero was worsted in his by-election. After all, with a set of
supporters so destitute of elementary tact.... But, of course, I know quite
well what is my real grievance. Miss HELEN ASHTON began her story with a
chapter so full of sparkle that I am peevish at being disappointed of the
comedy that this promised. Perhaps next time she will take the hint, and
give us an entire novel in the key which, I am sure, suits her best.
* * * * *
_A Little World Apart_ (LANE) is one of those gentle stories that please as
much by reminding you of others like them as by any qualities of their own.
Indeed you might call it, with no disparagement intended, a fragrant
pot-pourri of many rustic romances--_Our Village_, for example, and more
than a touch of _Cranford_. Your literary memory may also suggest to you
another scene in fiction almost startlingly like the one here, in which the
gently-born lover (named _Arthur_) of the village beauty is forced to
combat by her rustic suitor. Fortunately, however, Mr. GEORGE STEVENSON has
no tragedy like that of _Hetty_ in store for his _Rose_. His picture of
rural life is more mellow than melodramatic; and his tale reaches a happy
end, unchequered by anything more sensational than a mild outbreak of
scandal from the local wag-tongues. There are many pleasant, if rather
familiar, characters; though I own to a certain sense of repletion arising
from the elderly and domineering dowagers of fiction, of whom _Lady Crane_
may be regarded as embodying the common form. _A Little World Apart_, in
short, is no very sensational discovery, but good enough as a quiet corner
for repose.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A MODEL FOR THE HUNS IN BELGIUM.
NERO MAKES HIMSELF POPULAR ON A FLAG-DAY IN AID OF HOMELESS ROMANS REDUCED
TO DESTITUTION BY THE GREAT FIRE.]
* * * * *