This Month's New Reading

Landing-Craft War

SOME critics, writing of the American edition of Away all Boats (by Kenneth Dodson) said that it was the American Cruel Sea —except that Dodson gave the more impressive performance.

Neither this reviewer nor British readers will take that view— although the book is excellent in its way and of particular interest to Pacific Islands residents who had anything to do with war-time US beach-head landings in the Pacific.

This is pure Americana: No other nation gets honourable mention; and only two dishonour able mention —the Japanese, for obvious reasons; and Australians, for their everlasting mutton. One gathers that the US Navy suffered considerably at Australian hands in this respect.

To compare a book about the American Navy with a book about the British Navy makes about as much sense as comparing the USN with the RN; they impinge at certain points along the line, and there all comparison ends.

This is the story of a new type of Navy ship, Belinda and the men who sailed in her. Belinda was an attack transport—she carried the Marines who made landings on Pacific Islands every where from the Solomons to Okinawa. She carried the boats that took them under bombardment to the beach-heads, and removed them, wounded or dying, or job completed, off those blasted beaches.

The central figure of the story is MacDougall, who joined Belinda as a commander of the landing craft, becomes successively navigator and executive officer and in the final stages of the story when the Captain is incapacitated, takes com mand of the vessel. The tempo of the story quickens as the war moves north towards the Japanese islands and becomes intense during the battle for Okinawa when Belinda receives near-mortal wounds from Kamikaze suicide pilots. The story is rich in action to such an extent that one over looks one unique fact—the book must have created some sort of an American record in that it is virtually devoid of sex.

The picture of Captain Hawks— seen mostly through the eyes of MacDougall—is evidently intended to portray a brilliant man with weaknesses added like currants in a bun simply to create the idea of eccentric human-ness. Whether or not the author can be said to have had complete success with his Captain, depends on whether or not one believes in the American self inflicted theory of “toughness” (which some of the less vigorously

endowed might regard as sheer sadism). At all events, Hawks had plenty of weaknesses —ranging from sail boats (which he had built for him in the midst of battle) to monkeys and whisky—although his extraordinary indiscretions usually in the end, turn out to be brilliant strokes of genius.

The inescapable conclusion to be drawn from this book is that Americans are still by and large little boys with little-boy admira tion for a swaggering braggart.

Against this background therefore.

Hawks makes sufficient sense— even if he does not precisely fill the role of Navy commander as imagined by people who are prosaically British. (Published in Australia by Angus and Robert son, Ltd. Australian price, 21/-.)

Love in a Heatwave

IF life can be said to consist of a lot of superficial froth with an underlying stratum of tragedy then The Heatwave (by Jane Gillespie) can be said to be true to life.

Jane Gillespie is the sort of writer who brings a certain type of literary critic out in a rash of adjectives . . . “exquisite charm,” ‘‘subtle delicacy,” “delicate perception,” etc. So if the more rugged of her readers would like to give some of her characters a swift kick in the pants that more or less evens the score.

Ronald Curtis, a writer and a widower, has two small daughters aged 10 and 9 and an unmarried sister who helps look after them.

The whole family is to spend the summer in a cottage in the Welsh mountains.

At the last moment Ronald (who is always referred to in the book as “Ron” and thereby seems to take on some of the attributes of a similarly named character in the BBC show Take it from Here ) decided not to go to Wales but to stay in London for a while on a little private dalliance with Daphne.

He thinks that the children will be safe in the cottage with sister Lesley.

In the meantime, Lesley, thinking that “Ron” will be arriving at the cottage in a matter of minutes, leaves in a hurry to chase a secret lover to Ireland.

In this way, the two children are left in the isolated cottage entirely alone for several weeks. At the end of this time, “Ron,” having found out what the reader has suspected all along—that Daphne is a congenital virgin, anyway—arrives in Wales; at the same time, Lesley, for reasons that are far from clear, returns from Ireland.

(Continued overleaf)

They find that a considerable amount of damage has already been done.

Jane Gillespie is at her best when writing about the children and although their reaction to the situation is not the reaction of every child, with these two super imaginative brats it is completely credible. Ron’s haverings with his deep-freeze queen also can be swallowed. But few readers will emerge with any real under standing of what caused Lesley’s precipitate flight to Ireland, and her equally precipitate flight back to Wales. Perhaps it was conscience, but if so, no valid reason is ever given why Lesley and her swain should not marry in most respect able fashion instead of peregrina ting all over Ireland uttering unfinished sentences in varying tones of anguish.

If a little more realism could be infused into Lesley’s part of the proceedings, the story would, nonetheless, be the basis for a very good play or movie scenario. (Published by Peter Davies. Australian price, 15/-.)

What Stalin Said to

Hitler Makes a Thriller

rK importance of the role of coincidence in life was probably undreamed of in Horatio’s philosophy but not in that of Christopher Landon in his Hornet’s Nest, a story of suspense, some ingenuity and international thugs against a background of sub arctic summer.

Shortly after Heskin, an English bank clerk, had robbed his bank he was involved in a train crash.

Lying next him in the wreckage, and on the point of death, was his double, by name Bergman. Before Bergman died they changed identities and Bergman had gasped a few unintelligible words — “Nordkapp . . . under Hornet’s Nest.”

Thereafter, Heskin was involved in a game of chance that took him to Norway and to Marianne Rasmussen and a fantastic chase in and out of the fiords to the tip of North Cape where the half-submerged Nazi battleship Tirpitz plays a part in the story.

The crux of the mystery—to which Marianne and Heskin each hold a clue—is the whereabouts of some papers which Hitler entrusted to a henchman when things were getting desperate for the Nazis in 1945. These papers told of the secret relations between Stalin and Hitler between 1939-41 and — according to the author, anyhow— if sold to the right people would bring riches for life.

Marianne and Heskin do not, of course, have it all their own way and as well as having to find where the papers are hidden must engage in a running battle with a gang of international desperadoes.

The story has a surprise ending— apparently put in to appease those who believe that in cases like this Crime Should not be Permitted to Pay. (Published by Heinemann. Australian price, 13/3.)

Voices on the Wind

11THEN, centuries ago, the Maoris f ▼ of Polynesia set out to explain themselves to themselves, they created a host of god-like creatures endowed with qualities adequate and fantastic enough to account for the mysteries and miracles of life on this planet.

Born storytellers, the Maoris saw to it that their legendary heroes, while god-like in accomplishment, were also very human in their frailties and their appetites, and many of the adventures credited to them embody incidents of capriciousness, indulgence, guile and playfulness that were thought to be, after all, as natural to gods as to man.

Ultimately, deities were almost two-a-penny and each tribe and family had one or more to whom to appeal to for success in day-to day affairs.

But such super-gods as Tane, Tangaroa, Maui and Rongo were paramount in the earthly affairs of almost all branches of the far flung Polynesian family, and the tales of their deeds and the chants in their honour form a consider able part of the Polynesian mythology preserved to this day.

It is of these major Polynesian gods that Katherine Luomala writes in her well-named Voices on the Wind, recently to hand from the Bishop Museum Press, Honolulu.

Miss Luomala, part-Polynesian herself, knows her subject well and this book, with fine imaginative illustrations by Joseph Feher, is rich fare for those who are already Polynesian-mythology conscious, or for anyone who relishes colourful “once-upon-a-time” material.

Reviewed Briefly

Year After Year: A Collec

tion of Leon Gellert’s nonsense pieces which have appeared in re cent years in the Sunday Sun- Herald, of Sydney. Gellert is by way of being an Australian Stephen Laycock, with a puckish wit that is international rather than Aus tralian home-brew. Fans will be happy to have some of their fav ourite Gellert offerings in per manent form —such as how to bank and unbank, cope with love-lorn dachshunds, cure insommia, etc. (Published by Angus and Robertson, Ltd.

Australian price, 15/-.)

The Bishop With 150 Wives:

There is a epilogue by Papua’s Andre Dupeyrat to this story of missionary work in Northern Aus tralia by the former Bishop of Darwin, His Excellency Monsignor F X. Gsell who as a young French

priest went to Australia 50 yea ago. His 150 wives were the smi girls he bought from their parer on Bathurst Island to save the from being sold as child-brides mates that had been chosen 1 them by their elders. In nati custom, they thereupon became t “wives’’ of the Bishop, who had the brought up in the mission sch( until they were 18, when they con return to their tribe and choc their own husbands. Bishop Gs is now retired, living near Sydne: (Published by Angus and Robertson. tralian price, 16/-.) COONARDOO; A reprint of t Katharine Susannah Prichard not first published by the Sydn Bulletin, then Jonathan Cape, 1929. This story of the relatio ship between childhood playmat Hugh, the son of a station-own and Coonardoo, the aboriginal gi and the tragedy that develops c of it, has come to be regarded as classic of the great Australii north-west. The story is start realistic in the manner in which t black-woman, white-man proble is presented against the backgrou: of thought current in the 1920’5, (Published by Angus and Robertson, I Australian price, 16/-.) DEVIL’S BRIDGE: This novel Mary Deasy is of an engineer w] managed to get himself into t sort of graft and politics that ex: only in the United States. T story is one of very mixed emotio and tragedy—all of which pivot ( the fact that above all else L Sanger wished to build this pa ticular bridge.

The time is the early 30’s for : particular reason, as it could easily have been to-day; the cha acterisation is good, although t. calm acceptance of political co ruption as sometimes deplored b a part of life even in the be families can be regarded as a stran; reflection on the American scene. (Published by Heinemann. Australian ori 18/9.)