Davies. r 2S. 6d.) THE worst thing abOut this book
is its dust- jacket. With its bad reproduction of a singularly uninspired "still," it might have been designed for one of those reprints advertised as " The Book of the Film." It is a pity, for this fine actor's life-story deserves the attention of readers as well as bobby-soxers. Mr: Lionel Barrymore—who, amongst other things, seems to dash off bril- liant pieces of etching in his spare time— might with advantage have designed his own 'jacket ; though apparently he did not even write his own book: he merely told it to Mr. Cameron Shipp. The result is surprisingly happy, for Mr. Shipp appears to work with the precision and delicacy of a recording machine, reproducing what one assumes from its vigour to• be they authentic Barry- more style. His fondneis for picturesque idiom and words of obscure meaning gives the book a somewhat exotic flavour to readers east of the Atlantic, while the signi- ficance of certain names and events is lost on those unacquainted with American theatre history. But even those for whom the name of Barrymore holds no magic might well be entertained by this story, recounted with a most• persuasive charm and a sort of rueful pride in the success which persistently dogged him whenever he set reluctant foot upon a stage. Mr. Barrymore depicts himself sauntering through life apparently without ambition or direction beyond a consuming desire not to act, yet managing in the course of his story to rub shoulders with an astonishing number of famous and talented people ; and the reader is suddenly brought up short by the realisation that Lionel Barrymore is by no means the lucky drone he pretends to be. He is, in fact, a character whose kdventures in any walk of life would have been worth recording, for the wisdom and humour he
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