But as a picture of the present-day Englishman his
novel can hardly be surpassed. He is not a writer who is only at
home with one class. He can describe the utterly unknown and
unimportant with as much gusto as he describes the genius or the
old nobility. True, he overcrowds his canvas, but one must
recognize this as his method. It is so that he expresses himself
best; just as one painter can express himself best in a rendering
of the whole Town Council of Slappenham, while another only
requires a single haddock on a plate.
His future will be watched with interest. He hints in his
introduction that he has another volume in preparation, in which
he will introduce to us several entirely new C.B.E.'s, besides
carrying on the histories (in the familiar manner of our modern
novelists) of many of those with whom we have already made
friends. Who's Who, 1920, it is to be called, and I, for one,
shall look out for it with the utmost eagerness.
A Day at Lord's
When one has been without a certain pleasure for a number of
years, one is accustomed to find on returning to it that it is
not quite so delightful as one had imagined. In the years of
abstinence one had built up too glowing a picture, and the
reality turns out to be something much more commonplace.
Pleasant, yes; but, after all, nothing out of the ordinary. Most
of us have made this discovery for ourselves in the last few
months of peace.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103