Children of the Dead End. By Patrick MacGill. (Herbert Jenkins.
6s.)—A grin; deeperate; unpleasant book a book, nevertheless, of unusual interest, free from conventions; itatmg and vivid; a book which, in spite Of in unkind criticism' of fiction reviewers on p. 277, we Cannot but praise, since kir.. MacGill, whether he be writing in-pose or poetry, possesses a power of bitter irony,whichmore than atones for his faulty rhythm and lack of technical skill Here is an Rai:Cunt (mainly autobiographical, according to the preface) of six years of the life a an Irish navvy- in Scotland—just the por- trait of a lad of seventeen, tramping the roads for work, drinking and starving, fired with passions and desires, living like the beasts of the'Aeld-"gotiietimee I esy, I'fi ii;rite. my life op to this day and no further,' but suddenly it. conies to me that to-morrow may furnish it more fitting climax; and so on my story rune. . . A story of real life, hue real life itself, has no beginning, no elad.". This want of purpose perhaps, the Most Seri-bus fault in e story whose power and tragedy are not to be denied. Me. kEicGin. has kept it free from that ranting on religion and politica which disfigures so many bookacif this-class ; yet we feel that he does not mind what he sayi, nor how be says it, if only with sufficient vigour.
Previous page
