Evening Star Newspaper, July 26, 1931, Page 79

FEW weeks ago, Hugh Walpole, talking both seriously and freely, gave as his considered opinion that the purely introspective movel was, in effect, done for. If not quite that it was at best—or, maybe, at worst—definitely in storage or on its way there, to wait for a public more receptive to ‘that clearly exclusive brand of fiction. In support of his point, in partial support of it, this pop- ular novelist cites a dozen recent English novels, all above the average, showing that the balance of general favor among these has been on the side of the objective story. On the side of romance that works in human motives which are recognizable, ponderable as well as in human behaviors that are of familiar pat- tern. In a woid. readers of fiction are inter- ested in finding themselves in the story. And they, being of so obvious a design. become puz- zled, bewildered, impatient with the .mysterious doings of a purely mental abstraction declaring itself to be the whole human. Both incompe- tent and indifferent toward the subject novel is the great body of fiction readers and so it will continue to be for many a long age to comk. We are slow growers, we humans. Long ages to our account in the business of being human have not moved us, noticeably, out of the immediate domain of eves, ears, touch, taste and smell—that eombination route that passes the outer world into the individual and passes, just that, out agein in certain attitudes and activities. Hardly a shade of concern takes hold of one as to what has in the interim been going on in that mental realm, the human mind. So, the readers cry for outside stuff in their novels, for matters that can be seen and weighed, shared or repudiated. And so they will continue to cry far—oh, for ages, accord- ing to the waywise ones, like Hugh Walpole and othets of his craft that have grown skilled in estimates of the reading public. Now here is a novel of wholly subjective aim and production. A beautiful novel, so the elite among intellectuals say. Certainly it is written with a power and charm that the translation holds high and inviolate. Selected by the Book League of America as a recent choice the novel steps out in a clear atmosphere of promise and acclaim. Here it is: Franz Werfel, The Book THE PURE IN HEART. By New York: Simon & Schuster. League of America. GERMAN writer, who in an earlier day wrote poems and novels of happy promise, these generally of reminiscent content and mood. Then the war made a German soldier of the poet and romancer. Since the war has come “The Pure in Heart.” And here as in the older days of writing it is memory that dominates, that stands es the author's theme. ‘The mental process of recalling events, scenes, episodes, from one and another of the years of life, each one lifted in the fullness of its own identity of action, color, drift, and effect, over into the present of the writer's mind. An em- bodiment of the abstract power of memory, such is the preoccupation of FPranz Werfel. In the poetic days of youth these recallings out of the past were joyous adventures, bright colored re-livings, winged out-farings. Memory and hope, hand in hand, going along with the gifted youth who had chosen these as his inspiration, a3 his field of effort. Then, the war. And then, the mightily changed spirit of the man, such as every partaker in war action experi- enced. A curious effect that this man, still clinging to memory as his prime possession, looked upon it in his changed state from an entirely different standpoint. No longer a happy field for poetic fancies and inventions, for philosophic ponderings of generally benevolent trend. A sinister power in the later day, a thing to be annihilated as a menace rather than to be cherished as a benefaction. The story is told by way of a young physician whose mind now goes back toward bitterness rather than to joy—to the days when, abandoned by his mother, he became a charge of the state, a military student under the strict discipline of the German military school. An old nurse of early childhood stands as the one kindly companion of his youth. From this after-the- war standpoint these memories rise as perse- cutors, as malicious and wicked perverters of the boy who finally rescues himself to strength and right living by virtue of the remembered love and service of Barbara, the nurse of his babyhood, the friend of his childhood. A long story, a close-packed record of memories that serve, ultimately, to save the soul which at one point they promised to destroy. Very beau- tiful thoughts, a very high invention for the occaslonal readers who are at home in the mental chambers of human hidings and secresles. THE SECRET LOVER. By Ursula Bloom. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. IT down beside Arthur Weald, there in the high plain rooms of his dead friend, Simon Betherley. And with him read the story that Simon has left behind, the story of an elderly bachelor’s quest for happiness. Arthur Weald was stupified with the reading for he knew— or thought he knew—the quiet, kindly, dignified man who for many years had been his best friend. You, too, will be surprised at about every turn of the leaf, but under the surprise and above it and all arcund it will be a sheer deiight in one of the most ingenious and beau- tiful stories that you are likely to come upon this year, or next. Here is the frank story of secret love, of many a secret love, caught for the moment by Simon Betherley as the bluebird of true happiness, then released and sent on its way as only a shadow of the bright bird. First, it was Jennifer. Then Lesley and Lilith. Then the gentle nun and Rosie the Chinese Amah in her coat of black and gold. Then Babette, then Pauline— each giving and then passing. The nun a THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON D€, ; ULY 26, 1931, A Novel of Subjective Aim and Production, Wrritten With Pozer and Charim — Qur and Its History. American Music glimpse of piety as the goal of life. Babette the mission of rescue as true worthiness. Bo one and another add some flower of happiness to this questing man who going on his way finds, seon, nothing in his hand but a withered petal, & shrunken blossom. Sudden money coming, or so the record ran, Simon determined to prove life, the love life for what it was worth. In‘the South af France most of this evidence was ;gathered—and. scattered. You'll begin the -story in skeptic mood, if you are a woman. “That old man,” you will say. But Simon is not an old man, not in a genial kindly fascination -that eny man might envy, and willywhen he veads this tale. No, not a Don—e‘ther Lothario or Juan—in even the slightest likeness. Kindly, understanding, beautifully agreeable in spirit and manner— Simon Betherley was of the ‘order to win women. And he did, up to the point when he himself discovered that the bird in hand had lost, say a wing, or a.song tone, or some. other promise of the bird of happiness. Then, Simon opened his hand for the bird to fly away. A sharp surprise of most ingenious turn waits the reader at the end of the romance, or the series of romances coming the way of Simon. The story itself as a finely woven fabric is of an unusual workmanship, of an unescapable charm. Nobody but a woman, a very clever woman at that, could have written so revealingly of a man as Ursula Bloom has here written of Simon Betherley. A man could not have done it, would not have done it. And yet in this disclosure of Simon—so true in its mannishness—there is no patronage, no feminine superfority, nothing at all but under- standing of Simon and the gift to put that into words, words which pass Simon right along into the friendship and love of every reader coming his way. Not for long and long have 1 read a romance, with so much of sheer artist:y about it, artistry so firmly abased and so competently wrought to life as “The Secret Lover.” OUR AMERICAN MUSIC: Three Hundred Years of It. By John Tasker Howard. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Co. R. HOWARD'S contribution to the musical shelf of literature is exccedingly impor- tant. In writing more than 600 pages on “Our American Music” he has not only touched upon the highlights of our musical rennaissance, but he has written it in such a way as to please the “outsider” as well as the layman. Few who take up this spacious volume will want to put it down before the end is reached. It is an intricate and at the same time entertain- ing history of the shambling growth of our national music. There are not many who would care to admit that the progress of American music has been volcanic. Subdued at first by the rigorous de- nial of secular music by the Pilgrim fathers, shied away from by some of the Quaker brethren, certainly not bolstered by any bril- liant Indian composers, music has fought for national recognition through its short but tur- bulent career with industry but not, until this generation, with any remarkable results. In Washington's day there was a gentleman and statesman, Francis Hopkinson, who dabbled in music and who when he_sent one of his com- positions to the President, wrote: “However small the reputation may be that I shall derive from this work, I cannot I believe, be refused the credit of being the first native of the United States who has produced a musical composition.” This was in 1788. So that Mr. Howard's musi- cal history—"three hundred years if it—would seem to be rather short on .the side of native composers. However, there is nothing that the author has left undone. Under his comprehensive treat- ment. musical names and faces and the signifi- cance of their works are presented with clarity and placed in their little niches of fame with singular honesty. Among the various headings and departments which form separate fields of study, and which are admirable starting points for the investigator afe: “Our First Composers,” “QOur First National Airs,” “The Foreign Inva- sion of 1848,” “Songs of the Civil War,” “The Boston Group,” “Latter Century and Present- Day Church Music,” “Our Folk Music” (this is an exeeptionally well handled treatise on 6ne of the most vital phases of our musical develop- ment) and “Our Contemporary Composers.” And just because the author realizes that jazz must be included as a symptom of what is going on right under our noses today there is a final chapter on “Our Lighter Musical Moments"” with the composers who have risen for the most part right out of the theater’s orchestra pit receiving their due. ~ What should most.please the average reader of things musical is that Mr. Howard has not insisted on being eternally technical, after the fashion of so many musicians, but has written his long and comgrehensive history straight from the shoulder, incorporating therein some of the most delightful anecdotes seen or heard or read about in print in a long, long time. E. de 8. M. SON OF THE FORESTS: An Autobiography. By James Oliver Curwood, author of “Green Timber,” etc. Completed by Dorothea A. Bryant. New York: Doubleday, Doran & Co. OT & great writer. Better than that, a good writer who won and held many thousands of average readers to the pleasure of his own particular way of story telling. 29 Two qualities or powers of this author se- cured for each “pew Curwood novel” a wide and very sincere welcome. There was, first, the love of nalure. There was, next, the art of extremely simple invention. Nature, alive and big—deep impenetrable woods, miles of lone country, where the natives of animal life of- fered .an inexbaustfble source of true ac- quaintance and robust joy. Straight plots gathered out of this existence. Plots, lusty and forthright, involving man-size action and en- gaging both effort and ingenuity for their ful- fillment. Romance, the love theme? Oh, yes, but never jaundiced in tint with the gall dregs of disillusion, never carrying the orchid hues of decedcnee. So, the majority liked the simplicity and heartiness of the man who so feelingly matched himself to the natural world around him, making up live stories out of the combination. ‘‘Wholesome” is the word to use in respect to this writer and his work, or would be had not that fine word been se- duced and led wway from its original goed charaecter. Along, late, too late, James Oliver Curwood thought - he would tell the story of his own life. And so he began to do thic—but it had to be finished by some one ‘else. Here the story of a boy, much like aH boys, seeing no great sense in schcol and the multiplication table and all that. Finding an the outsid® things that could beat the doings of any school house that ever was built. FPilling himself with wood life and animal life. Getting along toward being grown up, still engrossed with out of doors. And words to tell about it all began to come, began to arrange themselves in an order that not only made sense, but that, instead, wove plots of a sort, packed these with incidents to set them on their way, colored the incidents with pigments that be- came both revelation -and beauty. ‘This personal life story is exactly of a piece with the fiction created by James Oliver Cur- wood. And that is a very fine and beautiful achievement for any artist. Don’'t you think? For any one to match so fully himself and his work? FED UP. By George A. Birmingham, author of “The Runaways,” etc. Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Co. OLITICS as an operative theme is packed with comedy, jammed with tragedy. Since at the moment, however, that all-engrossing subject is in the hands of George Birmingham, tragedy hiding its diminished head, slinks away, leaving the field to the comic spirit of this author plus an English political campaign. Neither of two rival candidates wants the job, or =0 he says. Put, shouts from both sides meet midway in a clamor of “your duty to the country,” “for England and the right,” and much other of such stuff made for compaign uses. Behinfl Big Peter of the commonalty is a pylitical manager and boss. Behind Charles Beauchamp, aristocrat, is an ambitious wife, beautiful, alsoc a boss. Such the situation. Everybody has some knowledge of the political jamboree that periodically upsets countries of such enlightment as to have accepted “democracy” in one or another of its phases of advance. And equally everybody knows Gecrge Birmingham. There is practically nothing more to say-— except that for his own peculiar and certain gifts no other theme, so far, has really met this man of many entertainments. So, sit down in the shade—if, just now, such blessing be available—and go along with one and an- other of these harried and bewildered patriots in the hands of their political friends. It Birmingham has missed a point of the in- herent absurdity of the case, of its essential banality, of its easy duplicities—but he has not missed a single one. Driving home in a blinding rain one night the rivals meet in a collision of their cars. The river, a violent immersion fatal to the ardors of politics—this, the climax of a state of mind for both that is expressed in the title of this hilarious tale, essentially a true tale despite its ponderously somber theme. Good fun, good fact, an uncommonly good Summer hour for any reader. THE NUN OF THE CA’' FROLLO: The Life and Letters of Menrictta Gardner Macy. By Clementine Bacheler and Jessie Orr White. New York: William Parquhar Payson. AN American girl, who, by way of her high service in modern education became known and honored throughout Europe as well as in her own country. A fresh outlook upon the education of children, coupled with courage to make practical use of these new views, brought Henrietta Gardner Lacy to the attention of prominent educators in many quarters. This record applies, mainly, to her career in Venice where a school of new ideas concerning chil- dren gave her a place of prominence with many a notable around Rome, in Murano where she had a school of her own, and in the city where she stood as “the best loved American in 21 Venice.” A long call from Ohio to that Italian city on the sea, and a far cry from the early years of Miss Macy's own primary education to the means, the free and enlightened means, employed by her to the training of the chil- dren of Murano. This record by two of her friends is a tribute to the courage of this pio- neer .as if i also a 1eank of thefr own affection 17 O THE NEW BCOK /. for the woman and admiration for the teacher, A g.y and spirited series of pictures, bearing no relation to the usual discussions of -educa- tional method or purpose. That difference ac- counts, in part, for the substantial value of the bcok, sinee it portrays first the puplls in their native environment and then lifts the whole— children .and immediate life to which they zre accustomed—into the s-heme of elementary edu-ation devised by this gifted woman to meet the n?ed in hand. Many glimpses of the surrounding Venetian-day come into the spirited story. These are made to contribute to the work in hand, are leoked upon as direct edu- c:tive instruments for these particular chil- dren. All this to show the rezal newness of this plan, its goed substance so far away from the too-rigid attitude of education, even ‘yet in a day where latitudes are paramount in almost eviry field. A most engaging story on a special theme, which expands, rightly, to include every aspect of the life in Venice which this gifted woman gathered about herszlf. An untimely accidental death cut the high mission down and left only this service of devoted and grateful fricnds to give a wider influcnee to the useful life of Henrietta Gardner Macy. LEGENDARY FRANCE: Curcassone and the Basque Country. By Regina Jais, author ef “Legendary Germany.” Illustrated from photographs. New Yark: The Dial Press. HE legends of Europe, identificd as these frequently are with the seenic wonders of the continent, come to be of prompt and special concern to the Summer traveler going that way, Regina Jais has alrcady provided a guide to the rich story of German legends. And here at hand is one of like character dealing with Prance, down around old Carczssonne and up the Basque ways. Small, compact, well ar- ranged, with plain print and good pictures, this appears to be just about the travel guide into the mythland of the region for which the tourist is looking. Beside attention to the fa- miliar highways of France here is, better yet, an intimate pointing upon its byways. You'll like that—the touches of history, the shadows of old days, the bridges and spires, the fairy tales and all Valley, made new by the World War, are here, and so are the cathedrals, each with its store of time and lore. Paris, too—but let’s skip Paris for the moment to arrive at Provence, the belovedest corner of all France, and then to Carcassonne. Take the book along. You need it. And if you do not positively need it you will delight in it all the same. For it will open again to you, or open for the first time to you, one of the world quarters that is of an amazing opu- lence in lcgend and old tale. No, I'm not going —save that I'm going all over the region again, this very month of July by way of Regina Jais’ :gok on the history and legend of Southern ance. Books Received ‘WIND IN THE GRASS. By Cristy Mackaye, Introductory letter by Edwin Arlington Rob- inson. New York: Harper & Bros. MIRROR IMAGES. By Dorothe Bendon. New York: Horace Liveright. THE DRAGON ON THE WHEEL. By Frances Elizabeth Campbell. London: Cecil Palmer. CANTICLES OF A MINISTER'S WIFE. Gus- rine Goueson Weaver, author of “The Min- ister’s Wife,” etc. ‘St. Louis: The Bethany Press. THE LEGEND OF ANN SMITH; A New Eng- land Story in Verse. By John Henry Bart- lett, author of “Folks is Folks,” etc. New York: M. A. Donohue & Co. SYMBOLS OF IMMORTALITY. By Evelyn M. Watson. Boston: The Christopher Publish- ing House. LETTERS FROM ONE WHO HAS CROSSED THE GREAT DIVIDE. Interpreted by Mara L. Ackerman. Boston: The Stratford Co. EARTH-CHILD. By Jane Groome Love. Dallas: The Kaleidoscope Publishers. Virgin-Island Productive SURVEY just completed of the soil condi- tions in St. Croix, largest of the Virgin Islands, indicates that this island of 82 square miles, about one-fourth the area of the av- erage county in the United States, has & greater variety of rich soils than any similar area in the country. The Department of Agriculture experts who conducted the investigation report that in some wvalleys the same crop has been raised for centuries without any visible depletion of the fertility of the ground. This is believed due to the fact that rainfall has been too limited to leach out the lime and other natural plant foods abundant in the soil. . - Large areas of black, waxy and highly fertile land have been found, as well as creamy, rich soil, overlying volcanic sediments. Alto- gether 23 different types of soil were found. Some of the soils have been found as ideal® ° as the soils of Porto Rico for the production of heavy crops of sugar cane, Unfortunately, there are no water supplies present which might be used for irrigation purposes 8o es- sential to the growth of cane. Because of the natural advantages found in the soil, Federal experts believe that the islands may easily become self-supporting through a diversified agriculture and develop< ment of the fishing industry. It also has been found possible to grow certain types ef imecuddeplantsonthemnnd,mdtuua. source of revenue is believed to be found this work. Jeanne d'Arc and the Marne §f