It is, however, very satisfactory reading, for in his multiplex catalogues of names and places the author gives the reader a vivid sense of personal familiarity which is quite flattering. No doubt this effect is obtained by mentioning so many aspects of contemporary civilization that everyone must needs have come in contact with at least some few of them.
L. M. B.
A Son at the Front. By Edith Wharton. (Charles Scribner’s Sons.)
As the most and vagueness surrounding the late war are slowly cleared away by passing time and subsiding emotions, and the conflict settles into a semblance of perspective, the more recent books that deal with it show an increasing grasp of its essentials, and a higher understanding of its trials and lessons. Where once were only trees, we can see a forest now, whose outlines are becoming more distinct as the shock of the cataclysm becomes a memory. It is past, now, and irrevocable, open to description or interpretation.
Speaking sincerely from the depth of her own experience, Edith Wharton here gives us a faithful picture; not of the mechanics of the war, but of general and specific reactions to it. Paris is the setting almost throughout the narrative, that of an American painter whose son, born in France, is drawn by the logic of his instincts and sympathies into the struggle. The scenes and events of the war, its growing tragedy and sternness, and their gradual effect on John Campton, are recorded with an insight and understanding that fascinate, while their subject-matter grips. The author shows a keen grasp of small details, as well as of large issues and their significance. Her style is delightful—a silver rapier that here waves benignly, and there strikes humorously or satirically, with great precision. Several delicate threads of narrative underlie and emphasize the main theme—Campton’s art, Paris visibly changing, and the younger Campton’s love affair. The story never falters as it traces out that “huge mysterious design which was slowly curving a new heaven over a new earth”. The author, in that design, points us to a philosophy of the war, a personal moral, comprehending its soul.
Our growing literary heritage from the World War contains few contributions more authentic or more inspiring than “A Son at the Front”.
R. P. C., JR.
The Dove’s Nest. By Katherine Mansfield. (Boni & Liveright.)
Here are stories that are literature: they move us by the presence of the genuine elements of literature, and not by the elements of painting, music, or any other art. Their language is neither colorful nor melodious, but it is significantly expressive, related inextricably to the subject matter. They help make the short story as distinct a literary form as a landscape by Cezanne or a sonata by Beethoven. Katherine Mansfield, scarcely a year after her death, has come to be regarded as one of the most finished artists that ever worked with the short story as their medium.
The present collection includes several unfinished fragments which are invaluable to anyone interested in her art or in the short story as a whole. They are cross-sections of her method which enable us to see the processes that produce the half-dozen little masterpieces at the beginning of the book.