Fiction

BY L. A. G. STRONG.

Hall. 7s. 6d.)

THE first and second novels on our list this week are the work of old hands, practised writers of whom it is usually enough to say that they have written another book, and whose admirers at once order it in the knowledge that they will enjoy it. Even so, I doubt if Mr. Buchan's admirers will be quite pre- pared for the sustained excellence of The Gap in the Curtain. The last of his novels which I read began splendidly, but did not stay the course. This one finishes even better than it begins.

Sally Flambard, most versatile of hostesses, has assembled a house party. One of the guests, Sir Edward Leithen, tells the story of it. Beyond all doubt, the two most interesting guests were Professor Moe and Sir Robert Goodeve. The Professor, weak and ill, confided in his hostess, who in turn confided in Sir Edward :

"'He wants our help. It seems that some experiment is neces- sary before he can be quite sure of his ground. . . . With human beings—the right kind of human beings. . . . It has something to do with a new theory of Time. He thinks that Time is not a straight line, but full of kinks and coils. He says that the Future is here with us now, if we only knew how to look for it. And he believes he has found a way of enabling one to know what is going to happen a long time ahead.' "

The theory which the Professor subsequently expounds to Sir Edward seems to owe more than a little to Mr. Dunne, but his proposed experiment was highly original :

"To-day is the sixth of June. Four days from now, if you and the others consent, I will enable you to see for one instant of time—no longer—a newspaper of the tenth day of June next year."

He is as good as his word. The financier sees news of a merger ; the politician sees the name of the next Prime Minister ; the amateur bibliophile sees that he will go to Yucatan ; and two others see their own deaths. Mr. Buchan works out each of their stories with a skill which commands my most respectful admiration. The ingenuity with which he dodges the reader's guesses, and the knowledge of different aspects of life which he shows, are nothing short of formidable. His one mistake has been to give too much space to" explain- ing " the Professor's theory. Such explanations must neces- sarily be incomplete, and the characters' apology for their incompleteness is almost always unconvincing. Save for this slight faltering, the story is confident, assured, and, within its chosen limits, masterly.

Mr. Benson likewise is in excellent form. To call Secret Lives entertaining would be to use the word in a more exact sense than usual. Throughout its pages one has the sense of being literally entertained by an urbane and witty host, whose eye, humorous and kindly, can harden to a glint of steel when it catches sight of something =comely in life or manners, and whose graciousness has behind it every now and then a hint that its owner's first loyalties have been given to another order and another period. The entertainment is rich and varied. A square, sedate and self-sufficient ; a well-to-do Miss Leg, who suddenly comes into it. Who is she, and why ? A gramophone, played in and out of season. The mystery of a popular novelist. Psychic research. Dogs : " ' Perhaps I had better explain,' he said. I am Mrica of the Evening Chronicle, but the real key to the situation is that unpro- fessionally I am Augustus Bosanquet, nephew of your butler, than whom, as I know from his own lips, you have no warmer admirer.' " If, after this, you do not wish to read Secret Lives, nothing I could say would make you do so.

From Mr. Benson's Durham Square to Mr. Stuart's Ireland is a far cry. The incident which is the pivot of his story is soon told. Garry Delea is selected to meet Tully McCoolagh, known as Tulloolagh, the power behind the revolutionary movement in Ireland. Tulloolagh is in Dublin :

"When Tulloolagh appeared, a secret bodyguard invisibly took up its outposts around him. Picked soldiers. The household troops of the Republic, and within the invisible ring of lead even the hunted generals could walk openly with security."

Tulloolagh announces that, to save the arrest of hundreds of I.R.A. officers, it has been arranged that four of the party sign a proclamation which will entitle the Government to arrest and probably to execute them. Two must be famous, two unknown. Garry Delea and Tulloolagh will represent anony. mom Ireland. When they are in prison together, he discovers that Tulloolagh is a girl. From that point things go wrong with Garry. It would have been better for him if he had been executed ; for he loses his faith.

Mr. Stuart's work is remarkable for its intensity and for its values. It has many incidental beauties, and its thought is

never commonplace : but it is the spirit underlying everythinz he writes which makes The Coloured Dome RS strongly im-

pressive as its predecessor. The experiences of Garry and Tulloolagh, in the few hours before they surrender, give the

measure of his power. There is also a note of danger. At times Mr. Stuart abandons himself too readily to a poetic and

vaticinatory ecstasy, and his beautiful prose goes stiffly, as on silver stilts ; but he has a mind and imagination of very rare quality, and his future is impossible to guess.

The Captain's Table is a thoroughly successful, interesting novel. The writer, Peter Vernon, returning from a lecture

tour in the States, became involved in the stories of the various passengers. For instance, he made friends with the editor Kessner, and learned just why he was eloping with his secretary. Then there was the French girl who played him off against the neglectful Colonel Jenkins. There was Mrs. Markham, who made advances to him ; and Kid McCormick, the bantam weight champion, who was—to put it mildly— interested. There was Bertha Goetz, in whom Vernon himself was interested. There were a Prince and Film Star, who staged romance on a strictly business footing. The various stories are very well worked out. One device, Vernon's letter to his lecture agent, seemed to me relatively clumsy, and the dialogue is at times perilously near monologue : but, with these slight qualifications, Mr. Huddlestone has done an unusual and admirable piece of work.

The last two novels exploit different themes from Mr.

Huddlestone's symphony : Doggett's Tours travel, and Desire—Spanish Version the films. The latter is the more

considerable work. Mr. Turpin's manner varies between sympathy and sarcasm, and his humour is a little too arch for my personal taste :

"Have you ever sailed down the romantic Viervaldstattersee in a luxurious steamer (first-class), then ascended in the world's most famous mountain railway to the summit of the Rigi, with its stupendous panorama of the Alps and fourteen lakes (168. 6d. if booked in London prior to departure)."

The conducted of this conducted tour are all standard types, the conductor disgusted with his work but under the spell of the dynamic Major Doggett. I realize that many readers

will relish Doggett's Tours, and am sorry to be thus tepid in its praise. One thing in it I can praise without reserve—the character of Doggett himself, which is most admirably and

economically drawn.

Miss Evelyn Eaton " knows her stuff." She has written a novel in which there is a nice balance between the technical detail of the film studio and the personal drama of the actors. Bibsou the violinist, sick of the cinema orchestra, gets a job as figurant with Paradore. He falls in love with Halina, the script girl. This romance, with its background of Desire—

the Spanish version of a commonplace talkie—makes the story. A rival script girl brings about the dismissal of Bibsou from his new post as assistant. He and Halina live together. He runs away to South America to make his fortune, conics

back without it, and the ill-assorted pair get married. There is an epilogue, many years later. Bibsou, premier prix de la Conservatoire, has gone the way of talent.

The characterization is clever, the style terse and economical.

I enjoyed the book very much indeed, and wish it the success it deserves.