Books Worth Reading

(By R. W. Robson.)

“Three Goats on a Bender,” by Winifred Birkitt.

Australian writers as a rule are mucn happier with a humorous rather than a dramatic theme. While most humorous Australian writers can maintain life and vigour right to the end of their books the majority of dramatic authors produce a plot that is unconvincing and a narrative that, in most cases, is feeble. The sur prising thing, therefore, is that Australian publishers do not turn out more humorous novels.

Winifred Birkitt with her first novel steps right into the front rank of Aus tralian humorous writers. The scene of the story is laid in Sydney and Camden — mostly in a century-old house near the latter town. The plot is quite ingenious and exciting, the characters are human and convincing and the action is quick moving and skilfully devised. But the outstanding quality of the book is its de licious humour. One can get a chuckle out of every page. Some of the charac ters so cleverly presented are people whom we meet every day. Frequently in the past, we thought we wanted to laugh at them: Winifred Birkitt turns the in clination into actuality. The title seems a little fantastic, until one is half-way through the book. Then one recognises that it is one of the neatest jokes of all.

Our copy from the publishers, Angus & Robertson Ltd., price 6/- per copy.

The Fighting Cameliers, by Frank Reid.

Who among us does not become wearied of imaginative romances? Who, after a course of fiction, has not called upon the High Gods for something real, with flesh and blood and the bite of actual adventure in it? Well, here is the answer—the un embellished narrative of an Australian Digger who went through the war as a Camelier in Egypt and Palestine, and who whether fighting or spelling, wounded or thirsty, or just plain lousy, never lost his sense of observation or his Australian gift of humour. Nearly a score of years have passed since the war occurred—yet as one reads Mr. Reid’s book those incidents and terrors and excitements seem but of yes terday.

The book is packed with colourful inci dent and lively description from cover to cover; but its value lies in its presentation of the real character of the Australian soldier —that careless, devil-may-care, grumbling villain who drove Tommy offi cers to madness, but who proved himself the best guerilla fighter in the war and the bravest thing that ever donned a mili tary uniform. The Fighting Cameliers is just the plain narrative of a Digger—but you will sit up most of the night reading it.

Our copy from the publishers, Angus & Robert son Ltd., price 6/- per copy.

“Blood in the Mists,” by J. Halpin.

This reviewer has read most of the war books; and, for graphic and moving de scription of the stark realities and beast liness of war, he ranks this book with “All Quiet on the Western Front,” The author, Sergeant J. Halpin, as a young Australian volunteer, reached Egypt in 1917, was knocked unconscious in action in Pales tine in 1918, and was picked up by the Turks—but officially reported “Killed in Action” by the British. Then he spent a

year in Turkish prisons: and his book is concerned mostly with his frightful ex periences, under those conditions. The Turks treated common soldiers worse than we treat animals—they were starved, thrown into insanitary hovels, robbed of their clothing and forced to labour. These printable things were bad enough: this writer not only presents horrors familiar to us, but also describes, in terrible detail, the bestiality and the filth of the prison compounds—stories of which the mere reading arouses the inclination to vomit, but which give a correct enough picture of Turkish life.

Sergeant Halpin speaks with affection of the Germans. Again and again, the British soldiers, starving and diseased and filthy, were helped by the men of the Fatherland, who gave willingly of their own slender stores of food, drugs and clothing. The Germans viewed with dis gust the conditions in the Turkish prisons, but had no control over the prisoners of their allies. If they had, there would have been a few thousand more British men alive to-day—for the Turkish prisons kill ed great numbers.

There are two delightfully humorous incidents described in the book.

It was just after a battle, in which New Zealand “Mounteds” had distinguished themselves. A group of wounded Maoris, who had shown splendid dash and cour age, were resting near the Australians. A fussy little English officer rode up and, pointing to the swarthy New Zealanders, wanted to know why “those prisoners there” were not under guard.

The amazed Australians said, “But those are Maoris, sir!”

The officer apparently had not ever heard of Maoris. “They are Turkish hill men,” he insisted.

The Australians referred him to their Colonel; and the incident ended with the Australian officer dashing into his tent, his shoulders shaking with mirth, and the Englishman galloping furiously away.

Several Australian prisoners lay in a Turkish hospital. One day, General Liman von Sanders arrived with his staff, and began to pin Iron Crosses on all the

wounded Turkish soldiers. Presently, he passed from the last of the Turkish beds and, quite innocently, with an Iron Cross ready, approached Browning, a hardboiled Australian camelier.

Browning, conscious of the devilish glee of his silently watching comrades, lost his head. “Go away—don’t you put that bloody thing on me!” he shouted. “Damn it —I’m an Australian!”

Von Sanders, who could speak no Eng lish, paused in astonishment; and one of his agitated staff explained that these were British soldiers. Then the General smiled, put his Iron Cross away, and shook hands with the Australians.

They said afterwards that they valued the handshake of the gallant von Sanders more than fifty Iron Crosses.

Our copy from the publishers, Macquarie Head Press, Sydney, price 6/-.