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Page 18
* * * * *
Miss M.E.F. IRWIN, whose previous books I remember to have greatly
enjoyed, has produced for her third a story of much originality and
power, called _Out of the House_ (CONSTABLE). The title may perplex
you at first. It comes from the struggles of the heroine to wrench
herself free from encompassing family ties and the tradition of
intermarriage, in order to join her life to the outside lover who
calls to her. You might therefore consider it, in some sense, a story
of eugenics, but that its outlook is emotional rather than
scientific. Yet the _Pomfrets_, as a result of family pride and
over-specialization, had become a sufficiently queer lot to warrant
a normal girl in any violence of house-breaking to be free of them.
Therein of course lies the cleverness of the book; it is full of
atmosphere, and the atmosphere is full of dust, _Pomfret_ dust. You
can feel how heavy to rebellious lungs must have been the air of the
_Pomfret_ houses, where lived _Philip_, the intriguing father, and his
sons _Anthony_ (a little mad) and _Charles_ (much more mad, but with
at least the instincts of a lunatic gentleman). It is not, you will
guess, precisely a lively tale, but the force of it is undeniable.
Miss IRWIN has now more than ever proved herself a fastidious and
careful artist, with a touch of austerity that gives weight to a tale
so frankly one of sentiment, and she will, I hope, continue to keep
her work above the ordinary level.
* * * * *
_The Wane of Uxenden_ (ARNOLD) seems to be one of those novels which
may be classed as worthy in intention without being exactly happy in
execution. Miss LEGGE has a desire to warn us all against the perils
of monkeying with spiritism, and she has chosen the method of making
it tiresome even to read about. Well, it is a method certainly.
_Uxenden_ was a nice old family, which had come down to cutting its
timber while a rich Jewish soap-and-scent-manufacturer sat rubbing his
hands on a slice of the property, waiting for the rest of it to come
his way. _Uxenden_ eventually waned entirely, and without tears so far
as I was concerned. I feel sure _Mr. La Haye_ (_n� Levinstein_) would
make a better landlord than the old squire, in spite of the prejudices
of the countryside.... No, I am afraid it would be stretching a point
to promise you any great entertainment from this well-intentioned but
rather woolly book. _Brother Jenkins_, the fraud, of the Society of
Seven, is about the most entertaining of the marionettes.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Lady Customer_. "BUT ARE YOU SURE THAT THIS CHAIR IS
GENUINE CHARLES II.? IT LOOKS RATHER NEW."
_Fake Antique Dealer_ (_off his guard_). "I'M SORRY, MADAM, WE HAVE NO
_REAL_ ANTIQUES IN STOCK. YOU SEE WE CAN'T GET THE LABOUR."]
* * * * *
OUR KINDLY CRITICS.
"It is Mr. Wells's great advantage as a preacher that he has a
prose style instinct with life and beauty. Somewhere he speaks
of a cathedral as a 'Great, still place, urgent with beauty';
somewhere else he says, 'The necessary elements of religion
can be written on a postcard.'"--_Daily Chronicle_.
"Callisthenes" must look to his laurels.
* * * * *
Extract from the letter of a lady who helps in parish work and is full
of agricultural enthusiasm:--
"Next week I am going to start digging for the vicar."
Assuming that the reverend gentleman was inadvertently buried alive,
we deprecate this delay.
* * * * *
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