The Unholy Trade. By Richard Findlater. (Gollancz. 16s.) THERE are
rew subjects more exasperating than the English theatre, that shabby, shape- less, bulging bag of tricks which has a way of spilling its contents infuriatingly whenever someone tries to grasp it steadily and grasp it whole. It resists most generalisations, but perhaps this may still be said of it : that " there is nothing cynical in saying that there is no such thing in existence as an English stage." (Thus, in 1880, Henry James, whose cry of despair or disgust has 'provided the dramatic critic of Tribune with a fetching title for his book.) No such thing as an English stage if one agrees with James that " the stage is a collective organism, composed of the harmonious vitality diffused through a number of individual playhouses, which are nourished by a dramatic literature native to the country, and expressing its manners and feelings, and which work together to an effective end." Nor, in time to come, will the physical existence of a National Theatre on the South Bank be in itself an automatic guarantee of improve- ment. There will be no English stage in that full and rich sense until a great many play- wrights, players, producers, designers, ad- ministrators and audiences hold a great deal more in common than they do today. And when will that be? It is an awkward and bulky subject, and Mr. Findlater, in trying to get his arms right round it and allow as little as possible to roll out on to the floor, has a brisk tussle. If there is a certain note of confusion in the air by the time it is over, it is not surprising, for confusion lies at the heart of the subject. Mr. Findlater would have needed much more room than two- hundred-odd pages to exorcise it. I. H.
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