Trumpet Voluntary. By G. B. Stern. (Cassell. 12s. 6d.)
MISS STERN does run on, to be sure : an obiter dictum here, a reminiscence there. How Wise, we nod, how witty! What fun to know such people (to hear " the impenitent trill of the telephone ringing when it is a friend, when it is Robin Maugham, or Gladys Calthrop, or Marguerite or Rebecca or Kate Mary "). And all with such sensitiveness, too: a brave smile over the view from a window made by the Luftwaffe, and a lump in the throat for the red-haired evacuee who took the Savings Campaign to heart. And so human, like the choice of pictures or gramophone records for a desert island—nothing too high-brow to put off the fans of her novels. When these make an appearance on what must be called a crowded
canvas, they provide a welcome reminder that Miss Sterri is no mean novelist: she can draw a character and tell a story which has been the novelist's job &rice Homer or the troubadours. But would these have been asked to come round again if they had stopped telling their tales and begun instead to blow trumpets and to chatter over the fire about this and that?
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