Fiction
Satisfaction Guaranteed
How Amusing. By Denis Mackail. (Heinemann. 7s. 6d.) THERE is a sprinkling of novelists, very wise in their genera- tion, the announcements of whose books might well include the slogan : " Satisfaction guaranteed." Indeed, their adver- tisers might go further, and, without any risk to sales, add- " or money refunded without question." These novelists, having discovered what the public demands, continue to supply it. They have designed their first successful models, and thereafter make countless paper patterns, whose form varies very little from the much appreciated originals. Let us beware of raising high brows in pain or astonishment at the methods of these happy few, for they uphold an ancient and honour- able tradition and there are not too many of them. The tellers of fairy-tales were their forerunners and so were the first chroniclers of true lovers.
Sylvius Piccolornini, poet-laureate and apostolic secretary, was one of these early wiseacres. His romance of the Two Lovers was a best seller in the fifteenth century, and though he tried to suppress it when he became Pope it had run through so many editions and suffered so many translations, that he failed. The story is a simple one and has, in addition to a certain cultured beauty of style and many wise state- ments on love, all the qualities necessary to success. His heroine, Lucretia, is exquisite—a familiar miracle of gold and rose and ivory. Her lover was. ardent, " not tall but of gay and graceful carriage, with bright eyes, cheeks of a pleasant ruddiness." The two of them fell in love at first glance, and the book gives full account of their amatory affairs, which were conducted under the greatest difficulties, owing to the vigilance of the lady's husband—" the golden fleece was not more jealously guarded by its dragon." The record is made 'With little rectitude and many flowery embellishments. Five 'hundred years ago readers were charmed by Lucretia, and Were yet content to know no more of her than that she was beautiful, ardent and falsely true. She was the correct and fashionable pattern of the heroine of her times, and had her Creator written a score of romances he would have cut out a score of such maidens, nor would their value have diminished. It does not diminish to-day : the public has not yet tired of types and legends, as is proved by the popularity of writers such as Mr. Denis Mackail and Mr. John Buchan. Every year the former makes for us the neatest little paper patterns of English girls, newly wedded wives and nice young husbands. In his latest book of short stories he has varied his designs very little, -though he has added a few new types—a symya- thetic chauffeur, a " missing " bank clerk, and a loyal club- bore. New did I say ? None of these people are new to us ; they only come fresh from Mr. Mackail's store. They are, every one of them, beings that the public is pleased to consider types—the typical heavy father, the typical art-student, the typical blasé young thing, and they all behave according to standard.
Few writers are more considerate to their readers than is Mr. Mackail. He asks nothing of their laziness, never shocks or terrifies or antagonizes : he only arranges his diverting paper patterns in new poses against new backgrounds : he only surprises even in a gentle sort of way. How amusing the poses are too ; how comfortable and easy and pleasant !
Mr. Buchan, too, has acquired .the art of giving us just what we have learned to expect. In the prologue to The Courts of the Morning we meet again with Richard Hannay, who is apparently introduced for no purpose but that of saying " how do. you do " to his many admirers, and of assuring them, by his presence, that the story will uphold the old traditions of danger, romance, chivalry and com- plications. There is no space here to give a synopsis of the plot, which is very involved. But it is safe to say that followers of the fortunes of Sandy Arbuthnot (a hero even more reckless, elusive and favoured than the Scarlet Pimpernel) will, even though they may have moments of apprehension, be sure that he will come through all his dangers in the end. Mr. Buchan is too well steeped in romance to allow so useful a hero to suffer ultimately, and doubtless he knows that the fiercest fight against the longest odds will win the loudest applause from the greatest possible number of readers.
Miss G. B. Stern has produced some new figures cast in old moulds, for she has adapted the story of The Taming of the Shrew to suit her own. requirements. Her Modesta, a little Italian maid-servant, is milder than Katharine, just as her hero, Laurence Ferrier, is kinder and less calculating than Petruchio. Chivalry, not ambition, persuades him to wed Modesta, who becomes a very turbulent minx when she is taken to England, and laps up her new luXury over- greedily. Laurence sees that he must bestir himself, and so he imitates an old-fashioned husband with an Eastern outlook on the rights of woman. Modesta is tamed very swiftly and spends the rest of her days contentedly with Laurence, who, since he comes of peasant stock, finds life easier in an olive orchard than ever it was in society. Petruchio is a very pleasant light novel, and one which should be popular enough to prove- that the old themes are not yet threadbare.
Exe, whose likeness Mr. Macdonald sketches in such bold outline, is the sort of young man made familiatto us by fiction. He is puzzled by early love, and his delineator spares few details of the emotions aroused in him by his kissing of a housemaid, first love for a sophisticated woman, seduction of a soldier's wife, and final proposal to an attractive minx. In between these episodes come the War and Exc's attempts to live thereafter. Mr. Macdonald writes with a directness that is sometimes crude, but there is no doubt that he writes well. He interests us in his hero, avoids theories (even
ivhen writing of the War) and has quite a good story to tell. All the same the likeness of Exe so resembles the likeness of many another young man that it is to be hoped Mr. Mae; lonald will not use it as a permanent pattern.
B. E. TODD.
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