The Wonderful Romance, by Pierre de Coulevain. [Dodd, Mead and Company, New York.] “To America, country of new thoughts”—thus does the author dedicate her last book. Almost as if she could foresee her death, Mlle. Fabre (Pierre de Coulevain was her pen name) wrote of conclusions and impressions long stored up in her brain. Like her previous books, this is a collection of thoughts and observations set down in a charming but desultory way.
To-Day’s Daughter, by Josephine Daskam Bacon. [D. Appleton and Company, New York.] To-Day’s Daughter is an utterly American book dealing with our peculiar present-day problems. Mrs. Bacon forces no conclusions upon the reader, for each case is “different.” The author limits her modern woman in no way except to make her choose one purpose and to show her that she cannot be a dozen different women and achieve success in all directions. She proves that woman must have a cohering line, a central motive to which other things are subservient, and a due regard to the environment where Fate has placed her.
Lucas’ Annual, edited by E. V. Lucas. [The Macmillan Company, New York.] Of course, the correct literary pose toward even the best “collections” is one of indulgent condescension. Nevertheless, we must admit that in Lucas’s collection Ruskin’s criticism of one of Browning’s poems gives us a good laugh and an intellectual challenge; that Barrie’s Hyphen and the prize novel, Spoof, are clever satires on literary style; that Browning’s letter emphasizes what we felt while prying into the Browning Letters: that our self-respect could never again be the same;—that as a whole the book appeals to our sense of humor and to our literary taste.
Nothing Else Matters, by William Samuel Johnson. [Mitchell Kennerley, New York.] That jaded epithet, “like champagne,” should have been reserved for this novel, for it bubbles and sparkles and leaves a luxurious taste in one’s literary mouth; and, while under its pleasurable influence, one is eager to declare that heroines of today should all bear resemblance to the charming little human who laughs and loves through these pages.
The Bird-Store Man, by Norman Duncan. [Fleming H. Revell Company, New York.] The old, Sabbath-scented story, practically told by the title, is in this case partially redeemed by a binding of tan, cream, and pale green.
Altogether Jane, by Herself. [Mitchell Kennerley, New York.] When a sane, intelligent woman speaks frankly and cleverly, with neither lush nor morbidity, the public owes itself the pleasure of hearing her; and, given that hearing, Jane, in this healthy chronicle, will be found convincing.
Personality Plus, by Edna Ferber. [Frederick A. Stokes Company, New York.] One or two personalities plus slang raised to the nth power minus profundity gives the readable, salable unit which Edna Ferber presents in this story of a blossoming college chap.
The True Ulysses S. Grant, by Gen. Charles King. [J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia.] Some patriotic hawker should get the idea and the permission to sell this informative volume at that sight-seen tomb on Riverside Drive, for Grant can’t have too many friends.
Nancy the Joyous, by Edith Stowe. [Reilly and Britton, Chicago.] Nancy, one animated beam of bookish sunlight, is just too sweet and frank and “wholesome” for anything—even to read.
The Torch Bearer, by Reina Melcher Marquis. [D. Appleton and Company, New York.] Once again the reader is asked to consider a married woman with a talent—a situation which has become epidemic. In this case the plot is too big for the writer’s ability and the whole story is shallow and sketchy.