Our New Zealand literary world is enthusiastic over the fact that New Zealand Authors’ Week is to eventuate early next year. It has been so solidly organised that it looks like being an annual affair. The early efforts are already apparent in the daily Press, the reference to New Zealand literary matters occupying a fair share of space. The Wellington “Evening Post,” ever ready to assist a deserving object, has given prominence to a most interesting controversy. That keen literary enthusiast and brilliant writer, O. N. Gillespie, has been appointed organiser for the week.

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In addition to his having established a world-wide reputation as a writer, Hector Bolitho naively confesses to two other accomplishments. In his fascinating book, “Older People,” which has just been published, he admits of the secret vice of blowing bubbles. I must confess to a mutual failing in this respect. I get a rare thrill out of creating and watching those delicate spherical shapes dropping from my clay pipe. The finest effects are secured by leaning from the window of an upper storey and watching the coruscating bubbles float to the ground. Under such circumstances, however, blowing bubbles is not a secret vice. Before many bubbles are blown, one inevitably discovers a small audience of devouring eyes furtively watching from adjacent vantage points, I say furtive, for the adult mind strangely regards such “childish” pastimes with counterfeit derision.

Hector, therefore, is charming for he has never “growed up.”

His other accomplishment is born of practice and skill, for, after all, anybody can blow bubbles. Hector can play faultlessly, and with feeling, “Home, Sweet Home,” with his nose on the piano. He describes in his book how he performed the feat in the presence of a distinguished company which included the late Sir Edward Elgar. I always thought Hector had an unusual, yet, not unattractive, nose.

Mr. F. W. Reed, the world-famous Dumas authority, who lives in Whangarei, was recently the inspiration of an interesting event in the northern township, in the staging of “The Prophecy of Cazotte,” a costume drama of the French Revolution. It was written and produced by Mr. Reed.

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One of Bethune's periodical book sales happened recently on a wet, miserable Wellington day. There was a poor attendance—result, wonderful bargains. A first edition of W. S. Gilbert's “Songs of a Savoyard” came my way for a few shillings. “Tom Bracken's Annual” (1896) and a rare old Wellington booklet quaintly descriptive of the Jubilee of 1890 entered my library for the modest fee of eighteen pence. “The History of Printing” (1771), in mint condition, was well worth the eleven shillings I paid for it (there were two other very acceptable books in the same bundle). The Medallion Edition of Kipling failed to reach the reserve of £8. A de luxe copy (autographed) of D. M. Ross's “Stars of the Mist” was knocked down to me for 2/6.

The bookplate of a well-known Auckland advertising man.
Design by Miss Eunice Buchanan.

A taxi groaned under the weight of my purchases as I joyfully sped homeward through the wind and the rain.

This “Bracken Annual” is most interesting. Among the distinguished contributors were Sir Robert Stout, Sir James Carroll, Edward Tregear, the Hon. Pember Reeves, Arthur Adams—all gone now, but the last mentioned. The Annual must have been a payable proposition because it was well lined with advertisements. Government Departments being well represented.

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A thought after the sale: Why do some people commit the sacrilege of mutilating a book by cutting the page on which was inscribed the name of the previous owner. When I die I hope to have performed enough charitable acts to secure permission to return from the other world and be present at the sale of my library, proud in the knowledge that those who buy my books, will find no marauding hand tearing out the evidence of my previous proud ownership. This is where a bookplate is a delight—the symbol of ownership on the inside front cover that may be overlaid, if the new owner wishes, with his own plate.

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From time to time I have inquiries from young artists as to the best method of developing their talent. Undoubtedly the correspondence art school is a great help, although there is a suspicion that in the past one or two may have shown a greater regard for fees than for their pupils. Always a good test is the period over which such institutions have managed to exist. If not run on sound helpful lines, such institutions will discover only too soon that new pupils are difficult to sign up. In the sphere of commercial art I have always understood that The Art Training Institute, Melbourne, is run on sound lines—certainly it has been going for a number of years. A good rule always is for the art student to send for the prospectus of the school concerned and judge from its contents, whether or not to go ahead and take up a postal course.

The sole survivor among old-time digger magazines in New Zealand is, I think “Fernleaf,” a monthly magazine edited and published by Mr. Percy Salmon in Auckland. Despite the elapse of years since the War, despite the depression, “Fernleaf” continues to flourish. The August issue runs to fifty-four pages, and apart from the excellence of its literary contents, shows a satisfactory blood test—the advertising is solid and good. I think the secret behind it all is, once more, personality. Percy Salmon knows how to put it over—both as an editor and a space seller.

Reviews.

I like anything written by Hector Bolitho because it is Hector Bolitho; never more H-B-ish though than his “Older People,” just to hand from Cobden Sanderson (London). His old world air, worn so well on his youthful shoulders, presents itself so pleasingly in this book. Hector Bolitho is here with his dreams. He is always dreaming—such dreams—and he must be happy, for most of them have been realised. This fortunate youth has met such notabilities as Mussolini, King Feisal, Marie Tempest, G.B.S., Quiller-Couch, Dean Inge. He describes his conversations with, and impressions of, these famous people, and the help and inspiration they have given to him in his career. Ever and anon he harks back to New Zealand in a most interesting manner. He is such a sentimentalist that his pictures are always pulsating with memories of all he has seen and done. I don't think that Hector has ever been so sincere as in this book. Truly a volume filled with most pleasant reading.

“Annals of a New Zealand Family,” by Mrs. Laura Jackson (A.H. & A.W. Reed, Dunedin and Wellington), is an interesting addition to the library of the early days of New Zealand. Mrs. Jackson is the youngest of the family of twelve children of Gilbert Mair, a New Zealand pioneer who settled in the Bay of Islands in 1824. Three years later Gilbert Mair married Elizabeth Puckey. Obviously it was a home of refinement, yet, nearby, were enacted many thrilling happenings. Events of great historical importance are mentioned in every chapter. The author's eldest sister was present at the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi and met the Rev. Samuel Marsden. We read of personal contact with Sir George Grey, Governor Hobson, Bishop Selwyn, etc. The Maori War aspect is graphically described. Mrs. Jackson's four brothers took part in the fighting. Her uncle, Gilbert Mair, won the New Zealand Cross for heroism. All through the narratives of the members of the family is an atmosphere of those delightful, yet exciting, old-fashioned days.

Truly one of the most interesting and sincere pictures of pioneer days.

A word for the publishers who have produced a volume of artistic format. The edition is strictly limited, each copy being numbered and signed by Mrs. Jackson. An opportunity for collectors. The moderate price is 6/-per copy.

“Pearls,” by Tempest Keeping (Eldon Press Ltd., London), is a gripping tale of adventure and romance in the South Seas. Pearling adventures in the Southern Seas always exert their irresistible appeal on the reader. The location of a fabulous pearl bed is known only to the captain of the Swallow, and when he is mortally stricken during a tornado, he leaves his secret and the guardianship of his beautiful daughter in the hands of the hero of the story. These are the ingredients of a thrilling yarn that will keep the reader tied to the printed page until the story comes to its smashing climax.

“Green Light,” by Lloyd Douglas (Angus & Robertson, Sydney), is one of the most interesting novels I have read for a long time. The tragic surgical operation performed in chapter two is the foundation of the engrossing plot. The author's description of this operation reminded me forcibly of a story by the late Sir Fredrick Treves. It was the essence of terrific drama. To shield his superior, the junior medico, Newell Paige (the hero of the story), takes blame for the failure of this operation. How his life is curiously interwoven with that of the daughter of the victim of the operating table, provides a thrilling love story. The strongest character in the tale is Dean Harcourt, a lovable old man whose philosophy and rare understanding bring the story to its happy conclusion. An outstanding novel as well as a deep psychological study.

“The Maori Situation,” by Dr. I. L. G. Sutherland (Harry H. Tombs Ltd., Wellington) is a timely, concise and well-written analysis on a matter that should be close to the heart of every true New Zealander. As the author points out, the present is a most critical moment for the Maori people and “that more complete understanding and the active goodwill based upon it, are most urgently needed and fully deserved.” This clear, arresting survey by Dr. Sutherland of the Maori as he was, to the Maori of to-day, should be in every library of New Zealand interest. The publishers have set a model for neat and effective format. Price 2/6.

“A Drover's Odyssey,” by George McIver (Angus & Robertson, Sydney), is one of the most interesting and vital books in the recent prolific output from Australian publishing houses. In plain, simple language the author tells us of the adventures of a droving party in outback Australia. The predominating figure is the droving boss—a living and most interesting portrait. We are taken through the vast desert areas of the interior, have interesting contact with desert tribes, learn much of their mode of life, feel the terrible loneliness and desolation of the drought areas. The author shows great sympathy with the abo and at times paints harrowing pictures of their distress. Altogether, a strangely compelling narrative. Price 6s.

“Shibli” Listens In.

Rarely a week passes but the name of Anthony Eden figures in the cables. Many New Zealand people have, no doubt, forgotten that Eden passed through Auckland in 1925, en route to the Empire Press Congress in Melbourne. Added to his many accomplishments is that of being a brilliant journalist.

Miss Nelle Scanlan is busy on another novel.

Warwick Lawrence, the young literary enthusiast, who, at the age of 18 published a history of the Wairarapa under the title of “Three Mile Bush,” is now connected with Auckland “Mirror.” He has the ambition to bring out an anthology of stories for children by New Zealand writers for New Zealand Authors’ Week.