Upsidonia. By Archibald Marshall. (Stanley Paul and Co. 43s.)—Mr. Marshall's
latest book would make a delightful short story ; or it might well serve as the foundation for a more complicated fantasy. But in forcing it to the fashion of a six- shilling novel Mr. Marshall has doomed it to failure. He gives us, instead of many interests, one idea ; he hammers into our heads one note instead of a harmony, repeats it incessantly, in different octaves, and on various instruments. The idea may be para- phrased thus: I was exploring a cave one day, when a fall of earth blocked my entrance and showed me a fresh opening; and 1 found myself in Upsidonia. This new country was upside down only in one respect : the rich were here the poor, and the poor were the rich ; the blackest of crimes was to give away money, the most miserable social condition that of luxury.' That is the one theme of this somewhat thin romance ; but at least we can say that Mr. Marshall sounds his note correctly, and that we only detected him in one stumble :—Mr. Perry would never have asked for brandy. And there are, here and there in the book, touches of humour of a far finer kind, especially in the solemn footnotes regarding the polities, customs, and literature of Upsidonia.
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