First of all, immediately, I think your novel¹ isawfully good. I congratulate you. It is a living book. What I mean by that is, it is warm; one can put it down and it goes on breathing. I think it has defects. But before we speak of them I'd like to tell you the things I chiefly admire. I think, perhaps, the best moment is at the end; the scene of your hero's return and his walk with Nina. There you really are discovered—a real writer. There is such feeling, such warmth, in these chapters. Nina's ‘whimsical’ voice, those kittens, the sofa with broken springs, the “speck of soot on your nose”—and then at the very end the steamer that would not go. I am not quoting these things at random, for their charm. But because, taken altogether, they seem to convey to the reader just the ‘mood’ you wished to convey. I think at the very beginning the tone is just a trifle tragic as it ought not to be. But once you are launched it's remarkable how quickly and easily you take the reader into that family; and how real you make the life, the ways, the surroundings Fanny Ivanovna is very good. I see her. But if you were here I could go into details in a way I can't in a letter. And another thing that is good is the play of humour over it all. That makes it flexible, warm, easy, as it should be. Only in Chapter XI., in your description of the ‘sisters,’ I think you falsify the tone; it seems to me, you begin to tell us what we must feel about them, what the sight of them perched on the chairs and sofas really meant, and that's not necessary. One feels they are being ‘shown off,’ rather than seen. And you seem in that chapter to be page 155 hinting at something, even a state of mind of your hero's, which puts the reader off the scent a little. But that's just my feeling, of course.

How we come to your second ‘plot,’ as it were, the Admiral, Sir Hugh and the Russian General. What opportunities you must have had, what excellent use you made of those opportunities! This part of your book is interesting for several reasons. I mean the ‘situation’ quâ situation is immensely attractive, and your principal characters are painted to the Life—They are almost too good to be true. Your Russian General is a rare find. I have known just such another, though he wasn't a general. But the beating in the face, in my friend's case was “beaten to death, simply”—and the reason was, “to use the English formula, the man was a blighter …”

I think the only thing that does not convince me is Nina's novel. That feels ‘strained.’ It seems to stand out too clearly, to be out of focus, even. It's such a remarkable thing to have done, that instead of wondering why she did it, one stops short at how. It gives the reader the wrong kind of shock.

Two things more I want to say. One is there are so many unexpected awfully good things that one comes upon as one reads, with a small shock of delight. It's as though, being taken by the author through his garden you suddenly discover, half tucked away another flowery tree. “So you have these in your garden, too …” That's the feeling. It makes one want to see more of your work.

The other is, I don't think this book really holds together enough, even allowing for the title. It ought to be more squeezed and pressed and moulded into shape and wrung out, if you know what I mean. And sometimes the writing is careless. All the same, if I were you, I would publish it more or less as it stands. I would let it go. You will have to take out a good many of the Russian expressions and single words. I expect you hear them so distinctly in your brain that you feel they must be there. But they will put people off.

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… At that moment I lit a cigarette and re-read what I have written, with dismay… In trying to be honest I sound carping and cold. Not a bit what I feel. Let me end where I began by warmly, sincerely congratulating you. That's the most important thing of all. And when I say I don't think your novel “holds together enough” please remember I'm speaking “ideally”…

I hope you will write to me. If you feel offended please tell me. It's not easy to talk man to man at a distance.

And here's your book back again. The Swiss who can let nothing in or out of their country without taking a share, have, I am afraid, nibbled the edges of the cover.

P.S.—The rain thumped. Don't you mean the rain drummed?