Reviews.

I had heard of a striking short novel entitled “Gentleman Overboard,” attracting praise from English reviewers. The opportunity of reading it came my way through a cheap Australian edition published by Angus & Robertson. The author, Herbert Clyde Lewis, has certainly written something vital and unusual. “When Henry Preston Standish fell headlong into the Pacific Ocean the sun was just rising on the eastern horizon”—this is the arresting opening sentence. Standish is an arch egoist, and decides that he really will not drown and that the ship will return to pick him up. Instead the vessel diminishes into a speck on the horizon and then into nothingness, and still Standish believes in his rescue. The author analyses the thoughts of those aboard, who are unaware of their fellow passenger's tragic plight and yet are wondering over his nonappearance on deck. We return to Standish and witness his thoughts and his actions as he waits in the watery waste for his rescue. We learn of his whole life as the boat journeys further and further from him. After several hours it is discovered that Standish has fallen overboard and the boat turns about. Once more we rejoin the waiting Standish. It is all so exciting and so terribly pathetic, and then comes that final amazing chapter.

* * *

“John,” by Irene Baird (Angus & Robertson, Sydney) is the most wholesome novel I have read this year. If you are tired of the cloying sweetness of sentimental novels, the sickening surplusage of sex stories, or the too exciting murder mystery, then take up this story of simple serenity, of indefinable charm, and it will be as refreshing as a drink from a snow fed mountain brook. John is one of three brothers who is not content to join in the family business that has endured for generations. He cares not to steep his soul in sordid commercialism and travels abroad to British Columbia to find perfect contentment on the land—his own farm. His peace of mind is threatened by the love of one whom he may not marry, but his character is equal to the occasion. Tragedy intrudes in another chapter, but once more his great spirit conquers, and so we come to the final chapter with the wonderful fall of the curtain. It is hard to describe this book, but my advice is brief and emphatic—read it.

* * *

“A Book of Famous Dogs,” by Albert Payson Terhune (Angus and Robertson, Sydney) is an Australian edition of a book by a famous American dog lover. Here he gives us a collection of remarkable stories of the great dogs of the ages. Few writers have been so wrapped up in their subject as Albert Terhune, and few readers will finish this book without wanting to possess a dog of their own, that is if they have not one already. Chapter one deals with dogs of ancient days. The Athenian dandy Alcibiades bobbed the tail of his famous dog so that he might escape ostracism. Alexander the Great erected a glittering temple to the memory of his pet dog. Then we are told of the dogs of kings, of authors, of ghost dogs and dogs of the stage. A few of the dog stories are as tall as fish stories, but all the same they stretch into interesting yarns. One or two might annoy people, particularly the supposed story of the dog that brought about the Reformation! Nevertheless, the book must go on the shelves of most dog lovers as one of the most interesting canine anthologies ever compiled.

* * *

Whitcombe & Tombs have issued a useful little booklet entitled “Camp Cooking.” The publication is sponsored by the Girl Guides’ Association, but the information will prove valuable to scouts, trampers, motor campers and everybody who loves to make a temporary home under Nature's ample roof.

* * *