Newspaper Page Text
? 'v i O U 11 K? , >i JJ
The Sun day Tribunes News and
Reviews of Books and Authors
! The Third Person Plural
By Burton Rascoe
. . . Ta? great point ie never to admit it's only you who are talking.
The ??K-rfTn Jtremu?i or Charlie Sniff accordingly rents ,? small ?fter, and
fUke hie opinions on to paper ns faxt ae he can; and then instead of signing
, ?? ?'. Sniff, he eigne them The Editor. The Editor ie o self-bestowed
Ullr, yet people respect it. Th?ii obrrry that any >in? ?ihn is an editor takes
,..V teriouely. And not onl;i himself, hut o*\er editors he takes (hem
. riottsly they all pretend to take roch other that way, same as Kings
or H ig > Prieete. They quarrel, and they criticize eaeh other, h>tt thai doesn't
. | tf,? main thing U for eaeh of them to speak of himself by his title,
-. ? nevtt allude to Kimeelf as T or ;n In.' views an 'my' views, hut t0 rail
fdf 'We,' ?o as to sound like a hisho?) or king." Clarence Day }w, in
?The t'row's Nest."
4 CONTEMPORARY critic of baseball, books and "movies" views
with alarm the literary situation at Harvard, his alma mater.
It appear? from his lament that situe the Haughton regime at
I ambridge the crimson dome has turned to ivory, and though Harvard's
tic stars are in the ascendant, its ?sthetic flame has flickered out.
The Harvard Stadium is full of bruisers, but poets are perched on the
Old Vale fence. While Harvard is turning out hefty halfbacks Yale is
giving a grateful world its Ben?ts. Stewarts and Parrar?.
Our critic has erudition, and he calls history to witness in warning
?gainst this deplorable state of affairs. "Sparta had such an excellent
tine-smashing attack thai it produced no poets. German militarism had
begun to put hobnails into the novel." The situation was not always
thus. There was a time when "Vale halfbacks might be faster than our
ends, bul Harvard wits could run circles around anybody from New
haven. They were the Romans and we the Greeks. Our goal line might
belong to Yale, but our soul belonged to art."
Recalling dimly that Edgar Lee Masters and Car! Sandburg attended
Knox, Ben Hecht the Everleigh School, and thai Sherwood Anderson,
Joseph Herges he: mer. Vache! Lindsay, Floyd Dell, Maxwell Bodenheim
and Francs Hackett never really went to school at ali. and recalling thai
me really first rate and not many second literary artists in Europe are
university graduates, vce were disposed to regard this comical lamentation
a? an elaborate, sophisticated jest. Most of the artists we have known
who survived college are making efforts against many handicaps to live
the fac? down. But both Harvard and Yale men assure me that our critic
is in earnest, and their grave concern with the problem lends some color
to their assertion.
We are urged to put in a word for Harvard against its defamer and
wc are presented with the facts. We are nothing if not obliging, and so
foi on? e we shall .stick on a frat pin, turn up the cuffs of our trousers, put
on a sophomore cap and give three Rahs for Harvard.
For we are told, what we never suspected, namely, that on "The
* Harvard Monthly" there was not so long ago a staff made u\> of Robert
Nathan, Gilbert Soldes, John Do? Passos, E. F. Cummings, Robert H il Iyer
and Stewart Mitchell. Here is diversified talent surely. Nathan ai
twenty-eight is the author of two novels and a book of beautiful verse,
and one of his novels, "Autumn." is, we believe, one of the very finest
literary achievements in recent year?. Seldes is literary critic for and
the managing editor of "The Dial." Dos Passos is only twenty-three, or
younger, and is the author of "Three Soldiers," "Rosinante to the Road
-vgain" (a charming collection of essays?, another novel soon to be pub?
lished, and a volume of verse. Cummings is a modern artist, and the
author of curious poems which figure occasionally in the more advanced
publications. Stewart Mitchell published last year a volume of collected
poems, and has written some excellent, essays on Shelley and others. And
;' yer is a poet who won the Scandinavian scholarship and was for a
time, in effect, the American literary ambassador to the Scandinavian
Moreover, we learn that Kenneth Macgowan, the author o? "The
Theater of To-morrow," and Hiram K. Moderwell, author of "The Theater
of To-day"; Conrad Aiken and T. S. Eliot are recently oui of Harvard,
F.vcn Eugene O'Neill stuck it out there for a few weeks. If Harvard pro?
duced Eliot. Nathan, Dos Passos and Aiken, we should believe that their
stay there vas justified. But we do not think it did.
DIERRE LOVING has. in the current "Nation," an interesting article
on this same tiling?the question of the influence of environment and
"?marts upon the development of talent. He attempts to account for
:' e Phenomenon of Chicago's literary activity. He attempts to explain
? .'?' it came about that, the ugly, dirty, sprawling city has produced in
the work of Dreiser, Henry Blake Fuller, Frank Norris, Carl Sandburg,
Sherwood Anderson, Ben Hecht, Maxwell Bodenheim, Va< lie! Lindsay
? Alfred Kreymborg almost the only vigorous and distinctive literature
of rece?? times in America, the only American literature, with few excep
I : ', which challenges comparison with contemporary literature in
He hits upon the obvious answer. Chicago is physically a larger city
n New York. Writers, rarely meet one another becau?e distances sep
ratc them and there are not. many of them. The hideous architecture,
'be drab, material aspect of the. town, the dirt and noise drive the
sensitive man in upon himself and make him create beauty for himself
to supply the depressing lack of it about him, or to turn into beauty,
as do Sandburg, Anderson and Hecht, the vevy ugliness they encounter.
\gain, and most important, perhaps, is that the hog butchering, steel and
wheal mongering town is not. aware of the artists it possesses. 11 offers
n scanl media o( expression?one endowed poetry magazine and the
ci lumns of one or two newspapers. It baffles, handicap? and discourages
the artisl at every turn. And the real artist sur* ?ves (his, and is the
? ' get" for it, because be expresses himself to satisfy a need. The urn
rtunatc thing about it is that the men of weaker will and smaller
(aient are beaten in this unequal battle. That is why Chicago does not
? r so many flourishing mediocrities as does New York. New York
: i.spitablc to talent provided it is accompanied by a certain social grace.
It has it? Coffee House and Dutch Treat clubs, its incredible Algonquin
!"!? ii table so advantageously placed thai hero worshippers may look
on while the city's thinkers and poet? are at their meals and playful jests.
It has its National Arts and MacDoweU clubs, where one may hear almost
any one who has written a book explain how he came to do it. And it
ha its university chairs of criticism, where one may sil attendance
Professors Broun, WoolIcott? and John Farrar expound the theory
iterature and the drama.
?v" recommend for this week the fol-'
'? ' ^ books:
t "Mr. Prohack," by Arnold Hcnnett
% possessing more charm than any
' ovel Bennett has written, ?<; a
i ' rl inntuio bit of almost ira
? e irony, so whimsical and
iman i?. it, ?tifl as an unusual
: on <.f the effect ef the acajuisi
??ealth upon an industrious, ?n
I and kindly man.
"whitp nnr( Black." by I!. A. Shands
'"'?;; perhaps oven a finer presen
11 ef the r.ORTo and his relations
!;ie wnire^ in the South than
' ;' ng's excellent "Birthright";
taining the most accurate tran
: r"'"> of the. negro's use of English
'??I has yel got into print, and a?
g at oni-o an important, presenta
ion of the negro problem and a well
peignant and impresoive
'he Fair Reward*," by Thomas lWr
A ? , ? .
a ?us* incijve achievement. in
taster Books |
Hw? Eaiataaro. ?f f ?s!.?h ^?
??i? Rlbt?, aajid Praarer Boo ka ,
? D V T T O N'S 1
+ b81 Fifth Arenur *
?? Orpaaaail? St. Them**'* Cbatrrta 7
(iros? writing; as an interpretativo
presentation of the theatrical life of
Neu- York during? a barbarous ora. and
ai human drama beautifully handled
by a young and tipw w?"it?-r who has at?
tained a ma'iurp and civilized point of
"Maria. (hnpdplaine." by Louis
H<-mon ?As Heine " notable picture of
provincial !ife. drawn with regard to
tap whole truth rather than for em?
phatic half truths; as i>e>n?r an in?
teresting and impressive story, written
lucidly, simply and with faultless
"The Mind In the Making," by James
Harvey Robinson- As brine a succinl
and well written sketch of the evolu?
tion of ideas from the dawn of the
human race to the present time; as i
wise and helpful book for any reader
who would like to pot an intellectual
perspective upon the problems con?
cerning society and individual con?
duct to-day; as a remarkable compen?
dium of the ideas by van ich men have
been and are swayed.
"Introducing Irony," by Maxwell
Bodenheim?Aa being the most un?
usual and distinctive volume of poetry
of the season; es being the second
volump of a poet, whom wo find to bo
one of the five most interesting and
(Continued on Page 0)
Wonder What a Real h Wealthy Man Thinks About? :
?.Villa An..loct>? <"
IVxt from "Mr. Prohack," .Arnold Bennett's now novel, published by Doran
"Children should always assume thai their father* harr mysterious stores
of money and tliat nothing is beyond their resonrep*. and if the} don't
riff to every demand it'* onl> hrranse in their iixsirtttahle wisdom
tlicy deem it better not to. Or it may be from mere cusstdness "
'i on may annoy nie. Yon may exasperate me. Yon ore frequently un?
speakable, lint you have never mail o me. unhappy. Ann why? Be?
cause I am one of tin* /etc exponents of romantic passion left in this
rit}. My pnssinn for you transcends my reason."
HIS PROSPECTIVE !
SON - \N~ LAW- |
"In 1017 I satr that girl in dirty overalls, driving a thundering great ran
down Whitehall. ) esterday I met her in her foolish high heels and
her shocking openwork storking* and her negligible dress and her
exposed throat and her fur stole, and she was so delicious and so
absurd and so futile and so sure of tier poirer that?thai?well, that
chit has the right to ruin me?not because of anything a/if'a done.
but because she i*-."
"Let us examine the circumstances. Von traut to marry Sissie. Ho yon
imagine that aftrr in} daughter had expressed her view of yon by
hissing ynu I could fail to share that vieic? Yen hare a pretil opinion
of Sissie, but I doubt whether yonr opinion of her is ??realer than
mine. We will now baie a linio whisky together."
Miss Johnston's "Silver Cross
By Arthur D. Howden Smith |
sit.vKl: rnoRP By Mri-v Johnston.<?
1 ?''?-. Hro? h .<:? Co . B? sion.
ONE of the most interesting lit?
erary phenomena or the nay
i; the recrudescence of the
historical novel. 1 do not
mo,in by this that there is any reason
3" suppose that its extraordinary and
ridiculous vogue of twenty years ago
is about to be repeated', but that it has
become, apparent within the last year
that the United States, like the Brit?
ish Isles several years earlier, has de
velopcd a growing tendency to appre?
ciate really worth-while fiction that
treats intelligently of bygone social
This is a good sign: in its way as
strong an indication of a rising stand?
ard of national taste as the success of
the younger generation of realists, who
aro presenting with journalistic detail
the problems of their own time. And,
by the way, that last statement, leads
mc to poso the proposition that all nov?
els which deal with group traits, ten?
dencies, schools of thought, idiosyncra?
sies might justly be termed historical
novels, inasmuch as they attempt to
reflect thr life of :i certain era.
In other words, "Main Street" and
"The Beautiful and Damned" are taint
led by the once abhorred stigma as
i much a - Miss Johnston's book, which
happens to discuss the terrible moral
degeneration of the monastic, estab?
lishments in Tudor England, which
made possible tM'' early succp's of tht
??QILVER CROSS" is by no means >
1 ' great book, but it is an extreme
lv interesting book, a brave book, note
worthy for its keen perception of tin
! irony of faith, the bludgeon force 0
established power in overriding inimi?
cal truth. The psychological interplay
o' its characters is always correct,
their spiritual reactions are essentially
valid. An;] yei they do net. live for inc.
The monk Richard Englefield and Mor?
gen Fay, the courtesan, are vivid
images that lack the warm human touch
?without which characters aro?charac?
ters. For this, T think. Miss Johns?
ton's peculiar style must be held re?
This style- at any rate, to her fellow
craftsmen?is the t;io.?(. amazing feat?
ure of tiio book. It re pre s en in a hold
attempt al a drastic departure from ac?
cepted literary conventions. Without
the incoherent eccentricities of Waldo
Frank's "Rahab." it contrives to prr
sent a series o" startlingly realistic
portraits with the utmost economy of
language and in unvaryingly novel
form. Ironical always, Miss Johnston
scorns to assist the mentally lazy by
filling in the detail'? of Vier pictures.
.?\ few broad strokes, splashes of vi?
brant color?and there it is. Use your
imagination, if you have any. If you
haven't, you can leave if, The effect
is rather Whistlerian.
"For instance, she starts her Mory:
"Henry the Seventh ~?it upon th<
That, is all. No pointing oui of tin
significance of this fact. No indica
t.ion of the waxing commercial pros
perity which followed the terminaliot
of the Wars of the Kose-- and whs t<
flower in the splendid achievements o
Elizabeth's reign; no reference to thi
consequent strengthening of th>
crown, wllich was to make nns<>ible tin
eighth Henry's deflano? of Pope am
Church. These belong in the picture,
bui Miss Johnston scorns to pander to
the ignorant mind.
Of her descriptive stylp, curt, tele?
graphic, disconcerting even, this is a
"Monk of Silver Cross was gen".
whirled away to the dark country be
bind Chaos snri there dead nnd buried
pes-cefully. Here was Richard Engle
field the master goldsmith. And ye!
not that, either. Here was one who
had risen behind goldsmith ar?l monk,
who had come un like a tree that was
And t h i s :
"London folk wen' up and down.
Palace where sat a strong king. Tower
where traitors lay in ward, wall main?
tained through the centuries-upon the
baie the Romans la;d, Aldgatc, New?
gate, Ludgate, Bishopsgate. Condon
Bridge, London Stone, Raynard Castle,
old Temple without the Templa1.--., with
the lawyers. Blackfriars, Whitsfriars,
Careyrriai'3, Austin Friars, Crutchcd
Friars, crowd of monasteries and nun?
neries, gr?a', buildings of stone, lesser
building- of wood, churches and
churches, and a good way out of town
Westminster, where the King was build?
ing hi? great chapel with the wonder?
ful roof. Sixty thousand, maybe seven?
ty thousand people in London. Learned
men were there, artists were there,
merchants were there, men of the
church, of the law, of the sword. Hid?
den Wickliffltes, hidden Lollards were
there. Astrologer? an?i alchemists ver"
there and men of th? rosy cross,
Navigators and discoverers were there,
striving to show Hpv.ry what to do ta
balance or counter Ferdinand of Spain
and Emmanuel of Portgual. Mechanics
and artisans were t li <? :e, many and
many men of many crafts. Guilds and
guilds. London of the b??ils, of the
wall and the Thames; London miter
Three hundred pages could not, giv<
a clearer description than that for tht
reader who can use imagination.
No woman has ever wielded greater influence over thos-? in her car? influen?a
for a superb womanhood -than the author of Spiritual Pastils. A New York faUier
was so imnressed with the worth of Spiritual rasid* and with the grapes and endow?
ments of it? author that he sent hi? daughter to the Collejr?? wharf* ,T. S. E. guidas.
With such a guide, such an exemplar, he is happy in the assurance thai the one he loves
will surely he something more than an odur-ated ?nob in this socially shaiUw age.
By J. S. E.
Literallx the ?tear! and sou! communing? of an intelligent, educated, cultured
woman a Nun?with an all-wise Christ, (he Christ of .he masses - -of the poor, the
Christ of Pent, not the golden crossed Christ now shekel owned by the richest men
in the world and capitalized hy them and others as a means to an end.
Just the book for daily reading - particularly ideal for Lenten readinc? if your
prayer book is mislaid take "Spiritual Pastels" to church instead. If you don't sro to
church if yon are agnostic, even atheistic. "Spiritual Pastels" won't argue or quar?
rel with you, but it will - positively will?inspire and comfort you. Tf you are inclined
to sneer at "the kind of religious stuff the sen-ant?* buy." read "Spiritual Pa.stels" and
then you will commend il to your domestics -and to yourself.
"Spiritual Pastels" is as foreign to kitchen theology and drawing
room cant as Heaven is to the Rogues' Gallery.
Fifth Edition Ready April 3d
Beautifully Illustrated. Price $1.50 Net, $1M Postpaid.
Edition niter edition of this really inspiring work ha* been sold. "Spiritual Facie!.*"
vil! be sent to any reader of Th' New York Trtbum ond your money prompt!v refunded if
even slightly disappointed. A f Booktlorez or
eTHE DEVIN-ADAIR COMPANY, Publishers, 437 Fifth Avenue, New York
f?erti'ude Atherton is one of the few
women authors who can turn nn epi
gram, and hers are so individual that
they have been called "Athertonisms."
II- if are three from her new novel,
"Good women always have a fatal
weakness for the man who has 1 i ved
"Wives have means of extracting
secrets that no husband has the wit
t?-, elude, men being too ingenuous to
' follow the circumlocutory method or
i he subi 1er sex."
"A good woman loves only her hus?
* * *
Elizabeth Asquith has arranged with
her American publishers for a new
volume of stories *?'.;d t'> be similar to
"I've Only Myself to Blame." She is
now on her way back home with her
mother, Margot, who is to have before
long a volume of her impressions of
the United State:-.
The Negro as Artist
By Louis I'ntrrineyrr
T1?R WOOK or AMERICAN ??BORO j
POJCTRV Chosen anal edited bj .lump.?
v. ni i??,, Johnson. Hareoin . Breci *? Co. |
?F J IIH'i are right the prophet?)'
irnt predict tft? eventual sub?
mersion O? 3 lie '?bite lare in a
"rising tide of color" this ?Ipc
>\?l<> maj come to be known a? Ihe
first black renaissance. Even without
t ?? perspective i ' ' me, we can see
how curiously this generation has open
influenced by tha ?la'k strain. African
sculpture res made a powerful impress
on the hi'! of our dray. American music
reflects, in an increasing strength, the
savage insistence of Congo drum b<?ats,
v well as the syncopated poignanee of
our Southern spirituals. In sociology
the negro has begun I > be hi? own in?
terpreter. '-'.'. r . B :i ?'iuir.lt Du Bois,
editor of "The trims," has made two
important contributions to the psy?
chology of the suppressed race in "The
Souls of Black Folk" ?ml "Darkwater."
Benjamin Brawley, an'hor of that ex
ccllent handbook. "A Short History of
? the English Drama," has done splendid
, pioneer's work with bis "The Negro in
Art" an?! "A Social History of the
; American Negro."
In literature the field is more un?
even. In belles lettres, criticism und
purely creative work ti,p negro seem.-t
to suffer from an inhibition that pre?
vents him from evprpssing his own
emotions. Instead of giving free re;n
to a vision sharply different iatp?! from
that of his white compatriot?, ha? i?
content to ape their gestures, their in
flections too anxious to imitate with
a stammering complai?anee their own
imitations. Instead of bping proudly
r;i?-e. conscious, hp is too often merely
A Harlem Freud may some day rise
to explain this quality in term? of mas;
repression; the negro as artist suffers
: he may conclude, from a iacp inferi
crity complex. The implications o
s ich an analysis are loo deep and far
reaching for an article ;?j supcrficia
ns ihis. They would, however, fina
repercussions in a recently publishet
collection of poems chosen and edile?
by James Welrion Johnson, himself ;
poet, as was proved by his origina
volume, "Fifty Year-."
WT-HE BOOK OF NEGRO POETRY
is a record of the succe-ses. a
well a.- the failures of the America!
negro tor, as Mr. Johnson prefers t
I call him, the Aframerican) as poet
Feie are lyrics as native, as gcnuinel;
emotional, as "A Heath Song" an
"Little Brown Baby," by Paul Laurcnc
Dunbar, an?! here, also, arp verses a
maudlin and imitative as "Ships Tha
1 Pass in the Night" by the sanie write
> Here are rhapsodies as passionate a
"A Litany of Atlanta," by W. E. D
Hois, and quatrains as cryptic as th
obviously Robinsonian echoes pr tha
.??.??dent anthologist, William Stanle
Braithwaite. Fenton Joh'nson adopt
without hesitation or apology, Masters
Spoon Liver idiom, but his angry ir
tensity is his own.
The outstanding discoveries of tlii
collection r-tie two, and they are les
familiar- even to their own race. The
are Claude McKay and Anno Spence
McKay does not disguise cither hin
self or his poetry: his lines arc sat',
rated with a people's passion: they ai
coler?d with a mixture of bitterness
and beauty. McKay's quieter an i
dyl .- momenta ar? tin noteworthyi
/?:" '.i ?-"* ... ??ore ttfcv.tactt.ria. c * -??:.
< he is rebellious tn*n resigned, rut*
i,:???-?r does no! ..i:-'.-iko polemic* foi
poetry; he knows how to evoke a
power of co nmunication without shout
ms: at the !->p of his voice. ' ' is
Lynching" proves this. So does the
mpulsive sonnet, "To .??." v ?
Fiends," ?n.| this sign ficsnt outcry,
written during the recen race t its:
. ?' H E mi 8T ?>IK
we in ?' rt!? lei It not b* I ? ho?-?
, ' ??. .. ?. ? |.?i?r... > ? ? o ? efio'.
".'. Iiile - n .... r? l>? . ! : .. ^ ry
II ? .? m,;?-' fli? n,i ? ... ?? ,)...
di Bth ' - ?
VI - cil before ? ?? ?? jrjvil
Uke n. ...t? li? m . ilei ? .
P'.? the ? . d -is b it nrhi ng
Anne Spencer's work soumis th? other
extreme of the yam,'. He?- \r:ie |?
remarkably restrained, closely woven,
intellectually complex. I'he Wil
Woman." and "Translation'' are steeped
.ii a philosophy that ha*? metaphysical
overtones. But there ?8 a raeia'
lenre, an ?'.most barbaric heat ??'?'? ' it
color of her line?.
? * ?
rj"*HK names of Alex Roger?, J. W.
Johnson and Paul Punbar?a I of
?rhorn wrote well known lyric? foi
popular son?? like "Lover's l.sne." "No?
body" an,! "The Jonah Man" recal
the negro composers who promised so
much nntl who have performed SO 1
Will Marion Coo'-., one of ?he ?>,'????
musicians ever produced in America,
startle us with the amazing "Rain
Sons:," originally written for a Wil
liams and Walk?, r show.
II. T. Burleigh ?a another negro com
noser who apparently has been ruined
by the conservatories. W. C. H
must be g-iven credit for an en< re
tendency which originated -* th his
"Memphis Rlues." What has happen
to him? Or to Rosamond Johni
most adroit of ragtime adapters? Or
Lo N'athaniel Dec, whose "I if n I ?*
1.1.nibs" is one of the most eloquent
pieces of choral writing ever scored I y
an American? is the answer to be ?
found, in spile of the negro's burst: of "
enthusiasm ai>d gusto, in his lack of
sustained effort? in a sheer inability
??i cone with the strain of continued
ci cative effort ?
In short, is tlii' almost erjual alterna?
tion "f achievement and failure a
physical or a psychical thing? Th
collection poFes suiii questions even
though i: does not pretend t i ipp!
ihe answers. What it does supply !s
a full sized portrait of the American
negro's contribution to a definitely
American art. It shows that if the
A frame ri ?.'an liai not .'-et had
renaissance, his poetry has at least
passed its pains of parturition. It is
no discredit to him that, with two ex?
ception?, the most balanced and cumu?
lative contribution to this compilation
is Mr. Johnson's fort; page preface. It
;? a mark of which any group could al?
low itself to be proud.
\y Henry Sydnor Harrison |
A few of the controversial reviews that are making
this the most talked of book of tke season.
"The book containr. a chapter the sen?
sation?! nature of which can seldom have
been equalled in English fiction. The re?
action of women to this chapter will be
one of shocked disgust. They will allow
no excuses to be found for Teresa De
Silver and they will accept no explana?
tions of h~r conduct. And the fact that
thry ?.re wrong will make not the slightest
? (.rant Overton in the ^eir ) or!; Herald.
"This young lady and young gentleman,
after trying to outwit each other for many
chapters, finally engage in a rough-and
tumble fight. . . ? This is a fight surely
worthy paying $2.00 (no war tax) to sec.
I would not have missed it for anything.
... A rattling good story ... a re?
markable piece of fiction, a well-wrought
work of art."
?William Lyon Phclpt in the War York Post.
"!n every way, one cf the most notable
American novels of recent years."
"Certainly the most powerful novel of
the present season. ... In this book Mr.
Harrison is at his best. . . . There is the
accustomed courtesy, quick sympathy
with what is best in life, stern purity of
thought and incident, chiseled style, pa?
tient artistry and careful workmanship;
but along with this there is a rapidity of
action, and a growth of strength for which
the admirers of h:s previous writing will
doubtless find themselves unprepared."
"This book is of absorbing interest from
the first page to the last. . . . There
never was anything better and tru*r and ||?
more sincere than the terrible, long, hand
to-hand fight which is the inevitable
climax of the book. There will be a lot
of criticism of this?criticism of the type
that 'that sort of thing doesn't happen.'
In some people's lives apparently nothing
ever does happen that is not agreeable to
discuss at a dinner table."
?Altee Duer Miller in the ^rtar York Tribune.
The storm of praise and denunciation that has
greated SAINT TERESA is in itself the best proof of
its extraordinary power and absorbing interest.
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY