Something For Christmas
pp. 91-95 · Read in the full issue
We should imagine that “The Singing Dolphin and the Three Cavaliers—Two Plays For Children”, would have a limited appeal in the Pacific Islands generally, as none of the Islands, so far as we know, has a Children’s Theatre movement.
HOWEVER, if any of the various art groups—such as those in Fiji or P-NG—would like to put on something special for the youngsters when they are home for the Christmas holidays this year, either of these two bright plays would do admirably.
Beverley Cross, who has written the plays, is a successful playwright for adult and juvenile theatre; both plays are designed as Christmas entertainment —a time in England when West End theatres and those in the Provinces make special efforts with pantomime, ballet and plays for the young.
Except for a teenage girl and a midshipman, the casts are adult in both plays; they are in two and three acts, respectively. The first, The Singing Dolphin, is a rollicking sort of extravaganza about an eccentric band of pirates aboard a eutter on the Spanish Main. The :ime is Christmas, 1760.
The time of the second play, The Three Cavaliers, is around Christmas Ll 2 years earlier, when the young, ?xiled Princess Elizabeth tries to rescue her brother Charles from ;he castle where he is held by the Roundheads.
The scene changes between France md England, the plot is amusing ind exciting and the kids will jrobably love it. But some of the sharacters are required to do a bit )f nimble fencing, so they should >e warned in time.
Amateur and professional per orrhing rights are protected, but he address of the author’s agents, vhere permission may be obtained, s given in the book/
(Two Plays For Children. Pub
shed by Rupert Hart-Davis Ltd. Aus ralian price, 18/9.)
Vhat Did We Do To
Irown Brother ?
As we remember it, Victor Carell nd his wife Beth Dean were, until few years ago, merely experts on he dance. It was this expertise that ook them to North and Central .ustralia to study aboriginal danc ig (from which came their book, Dust For the Dancers”); and later ) New Guinea (from which trip ime “Softly, Wild Drums”). >UT from being experts on native 3 dancing they now appear to have become experts on native people -or Carell has. The latest book,
Naked We Are Born, is a solo per formance.
He probably hopes—or his pub lishers probably hope for him—that this series of “before and after” (the white man) episodes will make some significant contribution to what they call “one of the most urgent problems of our day”.
The world, unfortunately, is full of people who have made significant contributions to universal under standing, with the result that there is more sectional friction, more in ternational ill-will, more howling down of the other fellow’s point of view, more misunderstood motives, more selfishness today than ever be fore in history.
The air waves seethe with so called experts ponderously solving everyone else’s problem but their own; and so does the Press and TV.
If there could be a blanket shut down on communication media for just three months, probably nine tenths of the world’s present troubles would solve themselves.
Mr. Carell writes about Australian aborigines, New Guinea natives and New Zealand Maoris. There are two stories in each section—one before the advent of the European in that particular society; and one after.
But it is hard to tell from any of them whether or not the author be lieves these natives were better off before civilisation caught up with them.
In any event, the urgent problem
in the Pacific today is not the Euro pean impact on natives. As history has now recorded, that impact in the 19th century was deadly, but for the last two generations at least the Pacific people have got on top of it, and have even recovered from it.
The problem facing them today is one we all face —of living in an international world where there is not one European opinion but a dozen trends of thought; and where Asian and African opinion, although it may not yet be quite so important, is 10 times as vociferous.
Nonetheless, Mr, Carell writes well enough if you happen to like that semi-fableised type of story about native people. As his publishers say, he is a sensitive observer, and thus is probably more prone to over romanticise the pre-European native period than the rest of us.
For my money, natives have always seemed pretty much like the rest of us—fairly evenly divided be tween solid citizens and plain pains in the neck. (NAKED WE ARE BORN. Published by Ure Smith Pty. Ltd., Sydney. Aus tralian price, 22/6.)
What is a Fair
Retail Profit?
IT always has seemed to this re viewer that there is something cockeyed about the cost of the retail distribution of goods.
Again and again, one sees the cost of an article that, at the factory or wholesaling level, would repre sent quite a reasonable price to the ultimate owner, boosted to a quite unreasonable level by the retailer.
The great majority of retailers use a rule-of-thumb method to cal culate what they regard as the
legitimate cost of retailing. For ex ample, many of them simply add 50 per cent, to the cost-in-store.
The article, on their shelves, has cost them, say, 1/-. The charge to the customer then becomes 1/6. Of the 1/6, one-third (namely, 6d.) is the retailer’s profit; and two-thirds (namely, 1/-) goes back to pay for (a) production and (b) wholesale distribution.
The cost of production may have been Bd, wholesaling may have been 4d; and retailing has cost 6d. Yet the producer probably would be quite happy to sell directly to the consumer for Bd, if some short circuit in distribution were possible.
Why should a camera, for ex ample, which occupies so little space in storage and handling, be loaded with a heavy retailing charge, which is found by taking the usual “thirty-three-and-one third per cent” on the high cost of production? Yet the cost of retail ing a bag of potatoes, bulky and heavy, is only a few shillings. Should not tha cost of retailing a small camera, or a wristlet watch, or a transistor—small, expensive things like that—be a mere bagatelle com pared with the cost of their produc tion?
The retailers, on the other hand, insist that it is not the work of handling, but the cost of the large finance involved, which makes it necessary to maintain the high re tailing charge. The retailer has to buy the goods, and hold them on his shelves until he can find a buyer; and then perhaps allow the buyer lengthy credit, before he can get his money back. They contend that anything less than the sacred “thirty three and ons-third” repre sents risky storekeeping.
Economists have looked at this problem countless times in the last century. There have grown up two schools of thought—t hose who favour fundamental changes in the machinery of distribution, and those who furiously support resale price maintenance (“RPM”).
Messrs. Macmillan and Co. pub lishers, of London, now have pro duced a book which states the case in favour of RPM, as set out by two distinguished English econom ists. It is a very interesting argu ment, and a distinct contribution to current world controversies but probably a little too academic for the average retailer, and for the great majority of politicians to whom the retailers carry their woes.
—Rwr.
FAIR TRADE—Resale Price Maintenance Re-examined: by P. W. S. Andrews and Prank A. Friday. 10/-. Macmillan & Co.
Ltd., St. Martins St., London, WC2.
West From Ohan
ANYTHING can happen—and
often does, according to Caught, by Philip Gaskell —in the wide
moors and hidden glens and lochs of Westerr, Scotland.
Western Scotland is about the nearest approach in the British Isles to wide open spaces, and in this case it provides an excellent background to an exciting story of international intrigue and dark doings—all suitable for early Teen reading.
Peter’s adventures began the day he arrived in Oban, Argyllshire, at the commencement of his Summer walking holiday, and saw the school science master abducted in front of his eyes.
From there on the trail led to a lonely cottage on Mull and a fight for his own survival. (caught! Published by Rupert Hart- Davis. Australian price, i5/6o
nn 1 O ± • r?
1 lirCC StOVICS FrOfU
* 0 ,
A Specialist
T IKE some of the best of World’s ±J Work’s books for children, The Rachel Field Story Book can be said to have been translated into English, too—in so far as good American s’s have been converted into British £sd.
Although this gesture towards better international understanding is probably unnecessary for modern children who start viewing Ameri can films at an early age, the Story Book itself contains three stories (illustrated by Adrienne Adams), that are completely captivating.
In her own country Rachel Field
i > regarded as a specialist in the ivenile book field, although in ►ritish countries she is probably etter known as the author of the dult novel, All This and Heaven do.
The three stories in Story Book originally appeared about 30 years Rgo as separate stories. The present edition, with its amusing illustra tions, was published in the US in 1958 and in the UK in 1960.
Although written over a genera tion ago, the stories are quite un dated and will have universal appeal amongst the six-to-nine year-old brigade.
(The Rachel Field Story Book
Published 'by World’s Work Ltd. Aus tralian price, 15/6.)
Making Sweef
Music Together
If you have budding musicians in * the family—in the under-10 age group—“A Song Is Born”, by Beatrice and Ferrin Fraser, will provide something for them to get their teeth into.
LIKE all the children’s books from World’s Work Ltd., it is beauti fully produced and, in this case, instructive as well. It has the right approach to get a child interested in music—even if it extends no further than beating a drum or blowing a penny whistle or lifting up his own voice to sing.
To make music is a good thing.
As it explains in the book, it is im possible to be cross and cranky and to sing at the same time—a recipe for domestic peace and harmony which, we feel, some families of our acquaintance could well paste in their collective hats. Illustrations by Nora S. Unwin. (A SONG IS BORN. Published by World’s Works Ltd. Australian price, 15/6.)



