The Month S New Reading

With Judy Tudor

Our books this month range through the normal and the bizarre to the merely extraordinary. A book, of course, is not merely a story any more; it is, like a modem painting, also a vehicle for expressing the author’s personality.

11HE question is, does the average . reader still primarily want a story; or is he more interested in the psyche of the writer?

It is said that the impact of TV on book reading has been severe, and that libraries and publishers have already felt the cool breeze.

Judging by some of the books that come our way, this development is not to be wondered at.

But a life where there is no fur ther room for a quiet hour with a good book, is a pretty bleak pros pect, too.

Costain Through

The Looking Glass

AUTHOR Thomas Costain has followed up that best seller, The Tontine, with Below the Salt, an extravaganza that com bines the fantasy of an Alice in Wonderland, the ancient history of Plantagenet England, and the modern American’s preoccupation with the horrors of Communism.

It is debatable whether the gim mick that Costain adopts in this story —an American Senator “re membering” back to when he lived previously, in the days of King John of England—was really neces sary: and some British readers might even see it as an American trick to show that they were re sponsible for Magna Carta.

But out of the whole boiling does emerge something, that if it does not carry the pungent message that was probably desired, at least can be awarded that blessed accolade — entertainment.

The story, even though king-size in length, manages to hold the in terest, particularly in the second portion which deals with the period from 1175 and onwards through the reigns of the crusading Richard, his brother John and John’s son, Henry 111.

The atmosphere of the story has not suffered by the writer having, with commonsense, eschewed Olde English and employed the modern idiom, and readers’ nerves have benefited considerably thereby.

Few would have the stamina neces sary to wade through 500 pages couched in the language of Chaucer.

The burden of Costain’s theme is that, with 1000 years of freedom behind us, we of the West now are

in danger of having it whittled away through inability to appreciate it.

To make his point, the author takes one elderly American Sena tor, endows him with some super natural gift whereby he can look back into the past to the day when the King’s will was as God’s and scarcely separate from it; when men were bound to the land as serfs and rarely permitted to move more than a mile from their birth place; when servants, bond or free, sat below the salt; and knights and the nobility sat above it.

The story concerns two young men, Richard, of a Saxon father and a Norman mother; and Tostig, all Saxon. Richard is of noble birth and becomes a knight; Tostig is free, but Richard’s servant; he sits below the salt, until late in the piece he wins his own silver spurs, mostly for his service to Archbishop Stephen Langton.

Richard and Tostig adventure to gether through England and France to Rome. Fighting in tournaments, rescuing damsels and princesses in distress is a prelude to the sterner business that comes later when, having become converts to the revolutionary new thought—that a King could do wrong and should be shorn of his power over the lives

of other men—they were amongi those who confronted John j Runnymede.

Both young men had a love for Richard, Eleanor of Britann and for Tostig, her base-born siste Giselle. (Eleanor was the sister ( Prince Arthur, who, if you remen ber your history, you will know m murdered by John as a threat 1 his throne). Both love affairs a: an important ingredient in tl story that Costain weaves to mat his point that the good old were scarcely that, and that fre< dom was dearly bought in the da] when a salt-cellar marked the lir of demarcation in the social seal It is highly likely that Costai did indeed mean this unorthodc method of dealing with an histor cal novel as a message (and n< merely as a gimmick).

But it is also likely that the stoi will be judged on its merits as novel and its message discounted if for no other reason than ths freedom is an unstable element.

It was noted that Richard an Tostig, when they travelled abroa did so without having first to ol tain a tax clearance, a smallpc vaccination and a currency-contr permit. And probably Tostig put r more effort into winning his spu: than the local bread-carter’s sc does now if he wants to becon managing-director of a Nation Corporation. (BELOW THE SALT, published by Wm. Col lir Australian price, 20/-.)

All Nonsense

(Part Two)

A YEAR or so ago we attempte to review here a first novel t a young gentleman name Mark Bence-Jones. It was calif

li a Nonsense, and we hoped that lat was the last we would hear of r. Hyphenated Jones.

But not so. He is back with a >cond piece of puerile nonsense J aradise Escaped) that makes the rst effort look like one of the >says of Elia.

The second novel, like the first, ntains a lot about Catholics and :otestants and seems to suggest at no matter what your religious rsuasion, you will be heir to the me fleshly sins. But if you are a itholic it is much better because u then can go to Confession and ed all responsibility.

We do not know whether Mr. ;nce-Jones is of the Faith—but if we wish to heaven someone >uld ex-communicate him.

This new epic proceeds normally d even with some promise for the st few chapters and then de aerates into such ridiculous tripe at any snotty-nose urchin, iting rude words on a lavatory ill makes more literary sense.

A.s well as presenting the relative *rits of mortal sin from Catholic d Protestant points of view, it ;o pretends to portray life rongst the aristocracy of modern igland and Ireland. Mr. B-J is fc the first writer who has den sely hinted that this stratum of ;iety is a spent force, but Mr. B-J ;s the message over just too well.

PARADISE ESCAPED, published by Peter ies. Ltd. Australian price, 18/9.)

vo Voices

Africa

ERICA speaks in The Leopard, . through the lips of V. S. Reid, a Jamaican newspaperman, i if what Africa says does not ? ays make sense, you can put it vn to art, for Mr. Reid writes a queer idiom that he did not rn on any newspaper, t purports to tell the story and

catalogue the thoughts of Nebu, a Mau Mau, stalking a white man in the Kenya bush, and being himself stalked.

Some years before Nebu had been a houseboy and one day, at the breaking of the dry season, and being alone in the house, he had taken off his clothes and danced naked in the rain in primeval ecstasy.

Shortly the mistress of the house, fair, blue-eyed, "beautiful, returned home, and being apparently afflicted with the same end-of-season madness as Nebu, is soon lying with him, begging him to take her.

Which he obligingly does.

It is this woman’s husband, whom

seven or eight years later, Nebu is stalking through the bush and as the white man lies dying from Nebu’s knife, he tells him that a misshapen son had resulted from the stormy union of years back, It is with this son that Nebu journeys on after the man is dead, until they come, in the full course of Mr. Reid’s rhetoric, to conclu slons with the leopard.

If this novel were written by a Mau Mau it might carry more weight, but although Mr. Reid is apparently of Negro descent —we are told that his ancestors went to the West Indies from Africa 200 years ago—he has lived all his life in Jamaica, and visited in England,

I It seems unlikely that this be vs upon him an insight into the u Mau mind or puts him in a ition to speak for Africa, even ugh he takes it upon himself to both. et that the novel is written is epoch in itself. Because of its ■aordinary theme and the some it Biblical writing style of its tior, it no doubt will be held as ie sort of classic by suburban lish folk who, knowing nothing Africa, like to whip themselves i scorpions for the real and hed misdeeds of their more iuresome colonising brethren.

IE LEOPARD, published by Wm. Heinemann, Australian price, 17/-.) r RICA speaks in a very different voice, in an amusing first novel by someone called Peter gate. Called Rain Doctor the is based on the fact that if Tom Bailey could not always : the miracles which the sans in his 6,000 square miles tice continually required of his presence in a village led to produce rain storms ;r than any witch doctor, r the most part light enter nent, it has an occasional us note, particularly in the ical requirements of the only y civilised natives, t throughout, amusing or us, it is different fare from Leopard and other passionate s on race relations, and prob more closely approximates people’s Africa than the us works written in spilled that these days abound, could, as easily, be most les’ New Guinea; or Fiji. They all there: The District Corn oner overdue for leave but with art of gold under his crusty er; the missionaries whose rstanding of the natives is un

seated by sentimentality: the

pean drifter who is given a is a game warden to keep him Df mischief, but whose under ling of the African is also solid uncomplicated. And finally inic, the doctor’s African medi issistant who has the trick of losing the right disease out of >ssible half dozen, while Dr. with all his training, is flum d by science.

N DOCTOR, published by Wm. Heine- Australian price, 18/9.)

Years in Sail

i Bisset

CE Sir James Bissett retired rom the sea in 1947 and came o live in Australia, he has be the best-known sailor around parts. It isn’t frequently that x Commodore of the Cunard ex commander of Queen Mary Queen Elizabeth, comes to live

here and Sir James has been God’s own gift to Rotary Clubs, historical Societies, shiplovers’ associations— and in fact to everyone who has meetings and luncheons, with speakers. Radio stations, Saturday newspaper supplements, have also benefited.

One way and another we know quite a lot about Sir James. But Sail Ho, the first of a promised trilogy covering his 50 years at sea, is still welcome, and makes interest ing reading.

Like most sailors, his writing has something of the literary style of an entry in a log-book, but the present series is in collaboration with an Australian writer P. R.

Stephensen, and has slightly more

oomph—although retaining most of its seaman-like quality which has a charm in itself, after the literary gimmicks and various Art styles with which our palates are now so frequently assailed.

Jamie Bissett came of a long line of landlubbers who thought going to sea was daft. He was brought up in Liverpool, in a happy family circle, but according to the strictest tenets of Presbyterian respectability.

As soon as he could think, he wanted to go to sea, but at 14, hav ing attained the 7th Standard at school, his education was considered sufficiently complete and he was given a job as an office boy at 4/a week in a Liverpool insurance company. (Over)

s his father pointed out, it was ob that offered great prospects advancement in a respectable leal career. ; was over a year before he could -r down his family sufficiently them to reconsider, n October 7, 1898, he and his ler presented themselves at the :es of William Thomas & Co. shipowners, of Liverpool, and father having handed over 20 len sovereigns as surety, he was nd as an apprentice in sail for ’ years, in return receiving £2O wages for the period and an irance that his master would ‘ all proper means to teach him business of a seaman”, and to dde him with “sufficient Meat, ik, Lodging, Washing, Medicine Medical and Surgical Treat t’. hen, records Bissett, the clerk ling the articles had proceeded ar as “washing”, the millionaire owner roared out: “No washing! -ed to goodness, on my ship ; can do their own washing. ;s it out!” It was deleted, imediately the business was Plete, he reported to Captain i Williams, of the County of

Pembroke. County of Pembroke was, strictly speaking, not a ship, that is, square rigged on all masts; but a barque—square rigged on the fore and main, but fore and aft rigged on the mizzen; but she was of a little over 1,000 tons gross register and to young Jamie, a beauty.

She was his home for the follow ing Ah years while he sailed three voyages to Australia and home round the Horn.

On the County of Pembroke, the work was hard, long, and danger ous; the accommodation spartan and quite comfortless; the food abominable.

The Board of Trade ration con sisted of a daily issue of i lb of salt beef or I lb of salt pork, with once a week, an issue of canned mutton instead. Once a week there was three-quarters of a pound of butter, a similar amount of jam and one pound of sugar issued per man. A few ounces of dried beans, peas, rice and fruit per week also figured on the Board of Trade scale, but these were all cooked in the soup or stew by the cook—or in the Sunday plum duff.

Each man got three quarts of fresh water per day, which was doled out by the Second Mate, but from this was deducted the cook’s whack, for cooking, tea or cocoa, which left every Individual with one quart for drinking, ablutions or laundry.

Finally, there were five cement hard ships biscuits per man per day, each pricked with 42 holes on one side, in which, as the voyage progressed, the weevils lived; and one ounce of lime-juice which every man must drink (or be fined 3d per day) and which put the vita mins into the other unpalatable mess and made it possible for British ships to stay long periods at sea without putting into port for refreshment and thus incur ring expensive harbour dues.

But young James Bissett ap peared to thrive on it.

He grew and filled out and when he was 20 and out of his time he took a job as Second Mate on the County of Cardigan for his last voyage in sail to Australia and back round the Horn.

In February 1905 he sat his First Mate’s ticket, decided he had had enough of sailing ships and looked for a job in steamers.

There endeth Sir James’ first book. iJ SA, * L published by Angus and Robertson, Ltd. Australian price, 25/-.)

Bonaparte in

Broken Hill

Arthur upfield must be writing books with both hands these days, judging by the rate at which he is turning out Napolean Bonapartes.

With Bony Buys a Woman hardly

read, the scene shifts to Broken Hill, with three elderly and appa rently harmless bachelors cyanided. and removed from this mortal coil.

Detective Inspector Bonaparte is, of course, hot on the trail of their murderer.

Bony has unconventional methods and in this event they are so ultra that we feel that they will not meet with the approval of any of the several State police-forces in which Bony appears to serve at one and the same time. Why he hasn’t been snaffled by Interpol long ago and given an international reputation, becomes increasingly amazing.

In the Silver City he is up to all his old tricks and some new ones, and for good measure there is the life in this metropolis on the edge of the wilderness adequately de scribed.

Just about everyone now from the gentlemen of the Times Liter ary Supplement and the BBC and downwards, in descending order of book reviewing importance has said they like Upheld and his half- Aboriginal detective, so at the risk of being tedious, we will simply re peat that we like him, too.

(The Bachelors Of Broken Hill, Published

by Wm. Heinemann, Ltd. Australian price, 15/6.)

Emotions

in Oversize

PARGETER’S stories al- J ways have plenty of atmos phere, and the tenseness and drama necessary for this type of psychological novel.

Although they do not precisely come into the generally accepted category of thriller, they usually deal with crime of some sort; or the darker side of human behaviour.

The three short novels in the om nibus, latest offering of this com petent craftsman The Assize of the Dying —are up to standard. The first of them, which gives its name to the volume, has been filmed as The Spaniard’s Curse, and has all the qualities necessary for a sus pense film.

A man, accused of a murder he swears he did not commit, puts a curse upon those responsible for his conviction—the Judge, the prosecuting counsel, the foreman of the jury, and the unknown mur derer. Believing that the man was innocent, a young couple set out to find the real murderer and de louse the curse. Their activities have a number of spectacular conse quences and none of the results they might have wished.

The second story also concerns murder, but is more directly con cerned with a psychological study of a woman who could do no wrong.

The final story also deals with human behaviour—the humans be ing seven, of mixed nationalities,

off for a week in the Alps by avalanche. [iss Pargeter deals with ordin people the village doctor, ir. Judges, beautiful women, et young girls, high strung ng men, and so forth—but all a half-size larger than life. It Jiis writer’s obvious conviction ;, in our emotions, we are all, way, a half size bigger than we ik we are.

SSIZE FOR THE DYING, published by Wm. smann. Ltd., Australian price, 20/-.)

-Head

h Wings

THOUGH it perhaps errs on the side of sentimentality, at times, it could be that the mentality is not altogether laced in Ivan Southall’s Bluey cott. ney Truscott—Squadron-Leader h William Truscott, DEC and according to the records of the F—was one of Australia’s ig war heroes. And not only ralia’s; it is recorded that the heads of Britain collected to him a Spitfire for his very own .icy—so named because of the ralian habit of calling red ed people “Blue”—was all ralian, only there seemed to lore of him, in every depart someone could do something he could do it just a better. In most things. He already a hero in his home , Melbourne, before the war, use he was a crack football Jr in the Australian Rules code it extraordinary brand of foot which can bring out 100,000 to

see a top flight match in Mel bourne.

The transition of Truscott from this to popular air-ace was a cer tainty—but strangely the path was far from smooth. Although Trus cott could do most things superla tively well, driving a car was not one them; and piloting a plane was another. It took him twice as long as any other man on the course to go solo, and then his instructor, who had stuck with him through all his incredible manoeuvres, when he must frequently have wished to take to a parachute, allowed it as a last desperate re sort before the Powers-that-Be scrubbed Bluey.

To the end, Bluey Truscott needed a lot of aerodrome and frequently accomplished his almost perfect landing 20 feet in the air, and got down the rest of the way by simple force of gravity.

But what he lacked in technical finesse, he made up for with the enthusiasm, courage, boundless energy that constituted his indomit able spirit. Not only was he of the stuff from which public heroes are made, his own close personal friends were legion.

In March, 1941, Truscott and his flying friends stepped onto English soil from the frozen fields of Canada and in the course of time were posted to various squadrons.

Truscott was posted to a ne squadron, the first Australia: fighter squadron formed in Eng; land, equipped with Spitfires. J was No. 452, soon to win more lha its fair share of battle honours, bi in the beginning new, raw and ue tried. To this outfit, as i s fin Flight Commander, went IrishmJ Paddy Finucane. And thus ti meeting of the giants and the seaE ing of a friendship between the! two young men, that lasted unji their deaths.

Less than a year after it hs been formed, the end came f No. 452 Squadron in Britain, I brightest stars, including Truscofc were detached and sent back horn to help fight the Pacific War, an 452 itself followed some time late He was stationed in Exmouk Gulf, on the West Australian coaii in early 1943, and part of the duti lay in escorting Catalinas for tl last part of their journey across tl Indian ocean. On March 28, 194' Truscott went off with lan Loud<: (who was killed last year nea Port Moresby in a car accidenr on one of these chores. As w their habit, they made a few passk at the lumbering Cat, flying i from the rear and breaking awi underneath. They did not ev dently notice when the Cataliji put down her floats and camel to land and when Louden made H last pass, he found himself v© close to the water. But he pullt away in time and yelled a warniii to Truscott. But it was either t late, or the ace fell victim to X own inherent weakness—bad timili or inability to judge distances—a|f his Kittyhawk plunged into the s and burst into flame. Truscott w killed instantly. (BLUEY TRUSCOTT, published by Angus I Robertson, Ltd. Australian price, 25/-.) fl

Treasure Trove

For Teenagers

Australian writer r. s. poc ecus, whose Brig alow was* much enjoyed a few month ago, has returned to writing chill ren’s books and The Tamh Treasure has all the ingredier that will make youngsters sit I and call for more.

The hero of the story is aj year old, whose father owns I island “somewhere over near t Solomons” and there is a lotj doings with buried treasure, double dyed rascals, diving, fishing, sa; mg schooners and all the rest of 1 We don’t know how much 5 Porteous knows about “islands ov near the Solomons” but at a gu(L we’d reckon that the artist w illustrates the story would do betl if he confined himself to drawl Brigalow scrub. (THE TAMBAI TREASURE, published by An and Robertson, Ltd. Australian price, 13/6.

solution in

'xico

’HEN an author puts a notice in the front of the book to the effect that all the charac are imaginary, one naturally ders why. ne wonders this with Jeremy ven, by Joyce Collin-Smith; or, e is imaginery, what caused the er to make her hero a small from a London institution who t to Mexico and became a cen figure in the revolutions of -13. seems a long way to take a 11 boy to write a story about ; nor is it easy to see why my should have been cast as did of destiny—if he was not. iwever, it is an interesting and irful little story of a country it which there are few novels, characters are well drawn and mgh Jeremy’s Uncle Titus is oubt supposed to be the villian le piece, he steals a lot of the der. The background of Mexico Mexicans is, one feels, well n. e writer has spent some time odern Mexico and has obviously considerable research into its jrn and ancient history. How —according to the jacket-flap r first two novels were about a. She lives in the UK.

EMY CRAVEN, published by Hodder and ton. Australian price, 18/9.)

it's New in

3r Jackets

ONG the new Pan books that re available this month are be following five, which have made available to us through ourtesy of Wm. Collins (Over- Ltd.:

Mining To Cook, By Mar

te Patten, BBC cookery ex on TV. Strictly speaking, not ipe book, it provides the be r with the rudiments of be ig a good cook and a house- Although designed for Euro conditions, simple cooking is ic art, irrespective of latitude, uld make a welcome gift for ng bride—or for that shower Jore experienced cooks might earn something. (Pan Giant). jRANT VIKING: by Peter hen. In July, 1956, the author red the 64,000 dollar question New York quiz programme; nonths later he won 16,000 s in the same programme. In ry, 1957, he was awarded the Medal of the Benjamin Frank ciety for “service to mankind ming new frontiers”. In Sep r, 1957, on his way back to the regions he died, but in 1953 d written this book.

Freuchen was born in Denmark but left it early because his mother had taught him that staying at home is no way to get on in the world. He had spent most of his life near the North Pole, named and first settled Thule, in Greenland, which is now an American air base, married an Eskimo girl and led a life of fabulous adventure. (Pan Giant).

Sweet Thursday: By John

Steinbeck. The second Pan printing of the robust classic of life in the raw in Steinbeck’s own brand of Southern California. (Great Pan). „„„ ihe PAPER PALACE; by Robert Harling. It presents you to the newspaper columnist, the news-

paper Baron and the newspaper editor, all engaged in a piece of skulduggery which is calculated not to enlarge your respect for news papers but which is guaranteed to entertain. Author Harling knows his newspapers, and particularly his Fleet Street. (Great Pan).

The Wind Cannot Read: By

Richard Mason. The first, and best selling novel of this writer who a few months ago gave us The World of Suzie Wong, which was reviewed in PIM. Both novels have a simi larity in that they concern young Englishmen who become entangled with Oriental girls. The Wind Can riot Read has now been filmed by the Rank Organisation starring Dirk Bogarde and a Japanese act ress, Yoko Tani. (Great Pan).