The Harbor. By Ernest Poole. (Macmillan and Co. 6s.) —It
is curious how seldom the writer of an autobiographical novel seems to know what he is talking about ; and this cus- tomary artificiality makes the sincerity of Mr. Poole's work all the more welcome : his work is true and it is subtle. In the account of his youth the emotions pour out swift, ill- considered, unbalanced ; here every moment brings a fresh influence which is all-prevailing—the harbour with its dis- illusioning materialism, college with its worship of "good form," Paris with its furious work and experience, its laughter and hot argument, Maupassant and Notre Dame., Heavens, what a medley is a young man's mind! And when Mr. Poole is writing of later years, and his tone becomes more subdued, he uses the same disconcerting penetration—not analysis, for he is too wise to indulge in that vexatious detail work which is the fault of many modern novelists, but a keen and immediate looking through to what is of importance; whilst behind it all lie the great docks and harbour of New York, and all the stress and strife which they imply. We do not wish to overestimate the merits of Mr. Poole's work, for there is nothing classical in American slang or in what we might call the genre literature of America ; and there are, of course,
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