Sheaves. By E. F. Benson. (W. Heinemann. 8s.)—It is not
often that Mr. Benson can be accused of want of courage, but he must be conscious that in his present novel he sets a problem, and then runs away from its solution. To kill your heroine by a rapid decline so as to avoid a perplexing situation cannot be called a new device, and this is what Mr. Benson sees fit to do, thereby shirking the working out of his psychological problenh—the fate of the woman of over forty who marries a husband many years her junior. Another point in the book which strains his readers' credulity unbearably must be noted. That his heroine should write a play to which all London flocks on its first night may be believed, and we are also quite ready to credit the immense success of the venture, but that a few chapters later we should be again escorted to the theatre to witness the triumphant &Mut of the hero as a tenor is really too much. Two such geniuses require more than one novel to make them credible. It is always possible to read Mr. Benson's work, but Sheaves is hardly up to his usual standard, though much may be forgiven him for the quiet humour • A Sheaf of Corn. By Nary E. Mann. London: Methuen and Co. pc]
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