Throughout the interesting account of plant and animal reproduction, Miss Smith is working through the law of progress to the girls’ responsibility in the life of the race, showing how the reproductive instinct can be made into a race instinct by means of the gift of choice. The one adverse criticism I should make is calling any gift of the flowers “poor” even in comparison. When the marvels of plant and animal life are being so wonderfully revealed, there is a singular opportunity to communicate the thrill and zest which come from close contact with Nature: there is nothing poor in the “scheme of things.”
The book does not warn girls against men’s companionship; it does not describe the horrors of venereal diseases; it does not frighten them into a fear of all mankind by giving the details of prostitution. It does not prophesy changes which take place during the adolescent period, so that attention will be concentrated on a whole new set of feelings which may or may not appear. On the contrary, it is all positive and sane, and is by far the best book we have for educational work with girls.
Marion E. Dodd.
EVE’S OTHER CHILDREN
By Lucille Baldwin van Slyke. Fred’k A. Stokes. 275 pp. Price $1.00; by mail of The Survey $1.10.
Mrs. Van Slyke has chosen as her special field of interest the Syrian quarter of Brooklyn, and the result of her observations she has given us in a short dozen of stories, grouped under the title, Eve’s Other Children. With considerable skill and great charm, through the medium of little Nazileh, she permits us to see into the mind of the Oriental “within our gates.” Each tale illustrates some Syrian custom or legend or characteristic, picturesquely trying to maintain itself in this matter-of-fact “land of Brooklyn.”
Those looking for diversion will find it in these tales; those looking for something deeper will find that also. While the association of the Oriental with other immigrants is rather casually treated, the relation between the Syrian population and the Americans with whom they come in contact has been a matter of careful observation and thought on the part of the writer. Between the lines, one feels her protest against the current attitude toward this peculiarly sensitive alien. Teacher and social worker, as well as the Tommy O’Brien’s and Geraldine Schmidt’s of the neighborhood, constantly offend the little Syrians by referring to them as “dagos.” Throughout these stories, like a plaintive refrain, runs the explanation of little Nazileh: “Oxcuse—me, I ees not a dago—I Syreean!”
To deal rightly with these children it is not enough to study only the outward type. Not to blunder one must know the unique workings of their minds, their superstitions, their strong racial traits. To illustrate:
Baby Antar has a new tooth, to Nazileh a most important event. A certain native dish must be prepared to do the occasion justice. But she is so poor and her mother works so hard! Suddenly Nazileh remembers that “Teacher” has admired her Mashallah beads; she will give fifty cents for them. Without them, the child is defenseless before the “evil eye,” but a Syrian custom is at stake; she must not falter. The teacher buys them gaily, without suspicion that she has taken from the frightened child her most valued and valuable possession.
Nor is the philanthropist always understanding: