Evening Star Newspaper, July 5, 1931, Page 69

THE GARDEN. By L. A. G. Strong. York: The Book League of America, ARDLY cut out for a sweeping popu- larity, “The Garden.” Not noisy enough in a pattering babble of talk to invite. Not enough given to the familiar lterary caperings — somer- sault, handspring, cartwheel of ac- tion and incident —to draw crowds into the novel “just to see what the hurrah-boys is all about.” Wears its modest and sufficient rai- ment in seemly fashion. Refrains from the common violence that hales into the open high- way matters designed inviolably for the private purlieus of boudoir and bed room. Nothing of all that here. Nothing planned to fit the cur- rent reading And yet the novel is mov- ing toward the nt in a general recognition of its good quality, in a warm appreciation of - its intimate transfer from writer (o reader, by way of which one travels back into his own childhood. “The Garden” is just a garden, an Irish garden, a grandmother and a boy. These, the heart of the matter around which recollec- tions play for a vivid re-creation of the lad, Dermot, in his Summers with grandmother and grandfather on their place not far from Dub- lin. A common adventure nowadays for writers to go back over themselves, so to speak, in a sort of biographic quest of their beginnings. But this is not that sort of back-tracking. Not a symptom here of corrective intent. At no point does the author pad that youngster to a different pattern by virtue of his own later wisdoms, by reason of his own not unnatural desire to give himself a good start in the eyes of the world. Herein lies the charm of the book. The boy Dermot lives his Summers in that magic garden of growing plant b>ds and separating paths, of guarding walls and shad- ing trees, with no sense whatever that he is being studied and with no care at all save that which the black monkey and a sportive kitten impose upon him now and then in fine good fellowship. And out of such respect for the boy’s individuality there grows a reality of eflect that is beautiful in its delicately ar=- tistic seizure of a wond-rful and rost elusive thing, a human personality. Mr. Strong makes fine use of certain exter- nals of situation. He has an English father, an Irish mother. Quite a roomy corner, that. The Irish landscape is. in effect, his own in the great possessive right of his passionate love for it. The Irish idiosyncrasy of temper- ament, and temper, serves him well, because he knows it so well. But all of this is sub- servient to the sensitive and frceling compan- ionship of this author with himself when he was the little boy Dermot. And, moreover, this clear beauty of work- manship and this fine delicacy of communion between man and boy work together for an even larger issue thap that of the immediate triumph that Mr. Strong has so clearly achieved. And that issue is that the story becomes truly great in the spread of its re- creative effect. Everybody's childhood at one or another point becomes immediate before him through this story. The old farm—the garden, the orchard, the tangle of jungle in a corner of it—where I as a little girl lived in “up- State New York.” My kindly and indulgent grandparents. My adventures, my playtime, the young one that I then was. All this comes stealing back into my heart, by virtue of that little boy, Dermot, and the Irish garden that homed him so safely and happily every Sum- mertime. Comes back by virtue of the feeling art of the writer of “The Garden.” And this last, I take it, is the final test of every inven- tion of art, its power to work potently in many ways with those who come within its reach and under its influence. Time, don’t you think, to (hank the Book League of America for “The Garden” as its July choice for reading? And, back of it, to thank Alfred A. Knopf for its original publication in this eountry. New HENRY C. FOLGER: 1857-1930. New Haven: Privately printed. HE Polger Shakespeare Memorial, now build- ing in the Capital, and the Freer Art Gal- Jery, so well known here, stapd together in concrete evidence of public-spirited munificence on the part of two private citizens of the United States. Henry C. Folger of New York. Cherles Freer of Detroit. ©Over and over again already has intellectual and esthetic Washington proved the high worth of the Freer Gallery, savoring often the deep delights of that austerely lovely place. In equal measure of anticipation is it now wait- ing completion of the Folger Memorial. The structure itself a creation, fitted to fill its high role of sanctuary and safe-keeping for that exclusive and priceless Shakespeareana, searched out and brought together by the truly great eollector, Henry Folger. But not alone to intellectual and artistic Washington will these gifts come. Education in general will profit widely by their presence in the Capital, where research and study and reading are a prime interest. Definitely also will these two institutions contribute to the superb ensemble of beauty in whose name George Washington and Maj. Charles L'Enfant dedicated the new Capital of the new Nation. More and more will these centers of art at- tract, also, the seasonal caravans that in such multiplying trains come to rest beside the old Indian river, lovely Powtaumack, the car- vier. The Potomac beside which in its cir- clement of hills rests the beautiful home city of every American. The interest of this moment, however, cen- ters upon the book in hand, “Henry C. Fol- ger.” It deserves to introduce more widely the man who has contributed so greatly to art and scholarship in America by way of the Shakespeare Memorial. It sketches the life ef the unusual man who has done this quite " @HE SUNDAY STAR; WASHINGTON, P. C, JULY S, 1931 A Good Novel Which WillNot Become Popular. Introducing More Widely the Man W ho Contributes the Folger Shakespeare Memorial—New Fiction. unusual thing. In sum. the book is a series of chapters, variously sourced, that include the outstanding points in the career of Mr. Fol- ger. Collected not long after his death, these will, no doubt, serve as foundation for a wider study of the man himself. Here are letters of intimate character. Here is the final service held in love and respect to Mr. Folger. A biographic sketch by George E. Dimock is of special interest. This discloses the early love of Shakespeare that took possession of the boy, growing with his years, and culminating in the splendid memorial that is now being built in Washington. To many, the high point in this story will be the description of Folger's Shakespearzana, its extent, its exclusive quality, the items com- posing this priceless literary treasure. And, beside this, another chapter of deep interest is the study of Henry C. Folger as an art collector. “The Significance of Folger's Shake- peare Memorial,” by William Adams Slade, is an admirably conceived and projected study. Again the kinship between Folger and Freer comes out in the common fact of their youth of deprivation, in a growing manhood of busi- ness success, in a final position of commanding power. And with both from the early days was the love of beauty, a native sense of artistic essences, that in both became the pas- sion of maturer years, culminating in the two splendid monuments to art and genius that these men, in a finely interpreted conception of patriotism, bestowed as gifts’ upon all the people of this country and placed in the Gov- ernment center, Washington, the Capital. WIDE OPEN TOWN. By Myron Brinig, author of “Singermann.” New York: Farrar & Rinehart. FINE story turn, indeed. By virtue of its factual foundation and the consistent beauty of its development, here is romantic adventure done in terms of clear literary ar- tistry. “But I don’t like wild west stories,” frowned the young miss, fumbling the bookshelves with fingers that lingered longest beside the “Vir- gins” assembled there—the “Inpatient” one, the “Professional” one and others of the tribe. Nothing to be done with that young miss, not yet. For here is a “wild west story” surely enough! The story of Silver Bow, Montana mining town, is of epic size and substance. Just a mountain of “pure copper,” so the rumor ran. And to this call came adventurers of every stripe. Men of courage certainly. Wicked men, prob- ably—but men. And where these went women came. Bad women, too. Why, of course. A red-blooded, lusty, unscrupulous mass, a sheer scramble of human beings. A rough story. A mining town. Work under ground all day. By night, release, to gambling, drinking, fight- ing, wenching. Mean boarding shacks, mean hotels, bawdy houses, fantastic shows. Morality not on the ticket. Religion a half-remembered name. Such the working stuff into which Myron Brinig dives up to the armpits. Young John Donnelly, out from Ireland to live with Uncle Roddy at Silver Bow, becomes first helper to Brinig, with Uncle Roddy close second. The new Irishman carries in his blood a kind of fighting innocence and not a little of the poetry of Erin, too. And as John tries to fit into this wild setting, tries to feel what it is all about, he takes the reader along in an identical strain tp realize that rough spot of American soil. A love story—believe it or not— there is a love story of idyllic stripe right here in Silver Bow between young John and Zola, a prostitute from The Line, the red-light region of Silver Bow. And how did it—never mind! There is poetry here when Irish John and Brinig feel the wide nights stretched over Silver Bow, when they catch seconds of the men that live deep, so deep, within these fighting surface men of Silver Bow. Then—— “Oh, let’s have another drink!” And matters come to the top and the fierce scramble is on again. A story of power and truth and beauty. Not many of these lying around. Better take ad- vantage when, once in a blue moon, & real work of writing comes along for your appreciation and for your own soul's sake. BOOK OF TISH. By Mary Roberts Rinehart. New York: Farrar & Rinehart. CLOWNS AND CRIMINALS. By E. Philips Oppenheim. Boston: Little, Brown & Co. ERTAIN noveltists, under the example of Henry Ford, Russia and other great modern industrialists, are going in for mass pro- duction. ‘The omnibus novel has arrived in America, joining the carryall procession of chain store and new pharmacy. Two highly popular ‘and enterprising writers are now ready with the first product of their venture, that of applying the new art of busi- ness to the old craft of story-telling. Each presents a bulky volume, demonstration of the most in value for the least in price, Mrs. Rinehart settles the many incarnations of the popular and beloved optimist “Tish” under a single roof for the prolonged and convenient entertainment of hosts of friends to this robust and jovial book acquaintance. Mr. Oppenheim, opulent story-teller, in even greater largess provides in a single pair of covers “five books in one,” half a hundred separste ad- ventures, a quite uncountable number of words, all for the price of one, or thereabout. “Clowns and Criminals” is a sort of world conclave of rascality, trailed by detectives and intclligence men, by astute plans for the circumvention of crime that is international in its many im- portances and significances. Looks upon the surface like an excellent enterprise of these two forehanded producers. Everybody is so constituted as to prefer a library to a single volume, since they are of equal price, or thereabout. And yet there are certain physical easements that go along with enjoyable reading. The right chair, the perfect light slant over the shoulder, the book that sort of snuggles to the hand in promise of deep confidence and intimate disclosures. Nobody, by choice, takes down for his lighter momenis of reading the Family Bible or Webster's Un- abridged. He picks up a condensed edition of these, except, when in high moods of spiritual quest or intellectual fervor, he literally and designedly affiicts himself with these flagcllating tomes. A good business experiment. One likes the conformity to custom. One hopes to like the products themselves. Let \g wait to see what the issue will be from the vote of all the reading people who devote themselves so passionately to either or both of these entertainers by way of fiction. A LADY QUITE LOST. By Arthur Stringer, author of “Power,” etc. Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Co. F you read this romance under the name of “The Squaw Woman,” pick another in its place. If you did not, here is a tale of man's vanity and bruised self-esteem working out in a retaliation that suggests fine insight on the part of the young woman who hurt him so profoundly. A blow to any man, to be sure. Left “waiting at the church” is a dolorous re- frain, whose conversion to action is likely to jar any expectant bridegroom. In this case, however, the incident brought out such store of hatred and general vindictiveness as to hint strongly of these qualities as basic and in the grain. Well, that's what happened. Merely an introduction for the going wild and native on the part of the deeply chagrined young man. Up into the North wilderness he went, there living the savage life. Yet that is rather inactive revenge for a specific wrong. Then— one day a plane slithered to the ground, de- positing a lone woman, young and beautiful, near this man, turned animal. That's the story. A story of subjugating the female. An old story, you see. Therefore, not so much of an achievement, for submission has grown into a woman's grain out of many centuries of man's clear superiority and fitness to control. So through days and weeks we find the young lady, toiling and tugging, carrying and lifting, while the noble white man looks on with a smile, presumably of the sardonic twist. Rather interesting, Arthur Stringer makes the busi- ness, but hardly any one else could, save an ex- pert yarn spinner like him. Of course, one should read in constant red anger, but the out- come gets so absorbing that, forgetting to be mad, one picks the book right up again to move along with the struggle. Yes, just a love story, after all. All right. She will deserve everything she gets. How silly of her and how short-sighted to admit that she had loved him “from the first.” Per- haps, this is a parable on the inherent, basic, ineradicable inferiority of woman the world over. GO MARRY. By Brendan Willlams. New York: Horace Liveright, Inc. HE outstanding virtue of this novel of sus- picious fronting is that it belies its name. No, it is not one of the familiar word scrambles designed primarily to rouse the sleepy minds of morons and other mental unfortunates in this weird world of today. Rather is the book a well-intentioned study, & capable study, besides, of the young wo- man who so infests the world at this moment. Who is she? Where did she come from? What is she trying to do in stores and shops and offices? How well fitted is she for these vari- ous undertakings? What is it that, down deep, she is in reality questing? These are the basic questions of the author. Good questions, toq, with which no one can find fault, save, per- haps, the young women themselves. With these queries in his pocket, this young novelist goes digging into the girl question. In all fair- ness he picks out a group of typical young women, neither better nor worse than the average. Really, a part of that average. And beside them he takes his chair, or whatever it is that, for the changing moments, offers him easement for observation and inquiry and some sort of conclusion. It is quite possible that he started with at least one prepossession. But he cannot be blamed for that. You or I would have done the same—that is, we should if we have not been asleep for the most of our scjourn here. For, under all the claims and counterclaims of the modern excitement when “livigg my own life,” “perfect freedom,” “mot any matrimony for me, thank you,” and so en through the current litany of emancipation, there runs the everlasting instinct for mating and whatever of serfdom or any other *“dom” may be tied up by time and custom within, the realities of that primal device of nature to keep the world a-going. A swift story, skimmed right off the top of the current moment, and, s0, more or less of a crazy story, but ene, nevertheless, that has put much more of real thought into the case of the young folks than is commonly accorded them. And, certainly, has this young man shown good reservations of construction that, in the long run, have in reality given the whole enterprise its stamp, quite a little above the common run of “cur- rent novels of life.” Books Recerved ‘The Collapse of a Civilization. By author of “The White New Ycrk: The John CHINA: Nathzniel PefTer, Man's Dilemma.” Day Co. A CENTURY OF ATLANTIC TRAVEL; 1830- 1930. By Franck C. Bowen. Ilustrated. Boston: Little, Brown & Co. JEB STUART. By Jochn W. Thomason, jr., captain United States Marine Corps. Illus- trations and maps by the author. New York: Charles Scribner's Scns. THE DEVIL'S BRIGADE. The story of the H:tfield-McCoy feud. By John L. Spivak, New York: Brewer & Warren, Inc. LETTERS FROM FRATERNITY. Writtey to Ben Ames Williams by an old New Eng- land farmer. By A. L. McCorrison. Intro- duction by Ben Ames Williams. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. THE STORY OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS, By Albert V. Lally. Illustrated. Boston: The Christopher Publishing Bouse. LETTERS FROM ONE WHO HAS CROSSED THE GREAT DIVIDE. Interpreted by Mora L. Ackerman. Boston: The Strat- ford Co. Farmers Turn to Gardens, ONE effect of the drought which seems almost incongruous is that it has forced many farmers to plan and work up gardens on & scale which their real importance warrants. Heretofore, with the former becoming more and more of a specialist, his vegetable or “kitchen garden” has been more and more neglected and little or no time has been devoted to the production of the family’s own vegetable supply. As a usual thing, what attention has been given to the vegetable patch was given in a spare moment or two when there was nothing else to do. The lack of cash crops, due to the drought,” brought many farmers to a realization of the importance of filling the greater part of their food supplies from their own lands. The De- partment of Agriculture, sensing the trend of the farmer's thoughts, is laying considerable stress this year on the kitchen garden and is aiding the farmers with all the information available. That part of the urban population which has felt the pinch of unemployment and is turning to gardening on a much larger than usual scale will also find that valuable aid may be had from the department. - Band Concerts. OUSA'S new march, “George Washington Bicentennial,” will be featured at a concer$ to be played at the Capitol Mcnday night by the United States Navy Band, Lieut. Charles Benter conducting. The program includes Grofe's tone-journey ‘“Mississippi,” Sibelius’ “Finlandia” and solos for concert and trome bone. Musician John Peck, trombcnist, will also be heard in a solo number Tuesday evening at Sylvan Theater. & Wednesday evening, at the navy yard. the concert opens with the overture “Mignon,” by Thomas. Other numbers on this program are scenes from “Robin Hood,” by De Koven; & solo for chimes, “Bells of St. Mary's,” played by Roy Watson, and a xylophone solo by Louis Concerts will also be played Thursday eve- ning, 6:30, at Veterans’ Hospital, Mount Alto, ;nnsz evening, 6:30, at Walter Reed Hos- THE concerts scheduled for the coming weel by the United States Marine Band, Caph Taylor Branson conducting, will include the following: Monday, July 6, 1931, at 8 p.m., concert, Ma= rine Barracks. Tuesday, July 7, 1931, at 7:30 pm., - ' P concer§) Wecdnesday, July 8, 1931, at 7:30 p.m., eomm m’l':,h Url.lr:d Bhtes.cnphom 1. ! y, 4 ), 1, 7:30 pm., e Sylvan mn;ru.l’ : Ry Cornet solos by Musician John P. White be included in various programs during y Jad\