Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, May 14, 1919 by Various
V >>
Various >> Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, May 14, 1919
* * * * *
There is a great falling off in quality as between _The Pointing
Man_ and the anonymous authoress's latest effort, _The Man Who Tried
Everything_ (HUTCHINSON), a fact which may be partly accounted for
by the brief time elapsing between its appearance and that of its
immediate forerunner, _The Man from Trinidad_. Her new book is a war
spy story--an exacting form of fiction in any event--and deals with
German revolutionary machinations in the Orient. It fails because
it moves too rapidly and covers far too much ground. The writer has
neither the gift nor the general information necessary for this class
of adventurous fiction. Her genius lies in her power of reproducing
the atmosphere of crime and intrigue; but her Orient and her Orientals
seem to have lost their hold on the reader's imagination. And I
venture to remind her that it is fatal in this kind of story to
replace known facts by unnecessary fiction; for example, to speak, as
she does, of a German warship in the Indian Ocean as the _Bluecher_,
when all the world knows that that particular vessel was elsewhere.
It will be easily understood that she gives us a hero who wins his
heart's desire, and numerous plotters of various nationalities who are
all safely foiled, the entire romance being conducted with a ladylike
absence of the bloodshed that usually accompanies this class of
fiction. That is its best recommendation.
* * * * *
The fact that _The Pearl_ (BLACKWELL) is described in its sub-title as
"A Story of School and Oxford Life," may perhaps somewhat mislead you.
Let me therefore hasten to explain that the school is for girls, and
the Oxford life is that enjoyed by wearers of whatever may be the
modern substitute for skirts. Not too immediately modern indeed, as
the events fall within the period of the South African war, a fact
that will, of course, much increase their appeal for those whose
Oxford memories belong to the same epoch. But it is naturally a book
difficult for the male reviewer to appraise with exactitude. All I
can say, being unconversant with the domestic politics of a ladies'
college, is that I should imagine Miss WINIFRED TAYLOR to have given a
remarkably true picture of existence therein; its mixture of academic
ambition, sentiment, religious fervour and party spirit seems (as was
to be expected) pretty much as we knew it in the masculine camp. The
chief point of difference appears to be that Miss TAYLOR'S heroine,
_Janet_, and her friends (all pleasantly individual) are naturally
thrown a good deal more upon themselves than is the case with their
more fortunate brothers. I have no doubt of the book's success.
Girl-graduates, past, present and to come, will of course buy it;
while in that other Oxford, now so happily re-awakening, I can fancy
it being read with all the curiosity that naturally attaches to
revelations of the unknown land.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Urchin (contemptuously)_ "HUH! YER MOTHER TAKES IN
WASHIN'!"
_Neighbour_. "WELL, YER DIDN'T S'POSE SHE'D LEAVE IT HANGIN' AHT
OVERNIGHT UNLESS YOUR FARVER WAS IN PRISON, DID YER?"]
* * * * *
From a report of the Cippenham inquiry:--
"Witness: 'Oh, I have a hide like a rhinorocerus.'"--_Evening
Paper_.
This pachyderm is new to us.
* * * * *