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BRIEFER MENTION
The Outcast, by Selma Lagerlöf, translated by W. Worster (12mo, 297 pages; Doubleday, Page: $1: 90) is another example of the somewhat disjointed, episodic novel which is so to the genius of this Swedish story-teller. There are passages in it which recall the strength and simplicity of the old Icelandic sagas. Its atmosphere, as in so much of Selma Lagerlöf's work, is a curious blend of the archaic mood of the folk and the soil and the all-suffering, all-forgiving Christ idea. The characters, though they speak with a Swedish accent, are members of an elemental and timeless commonwealth; their bodies are but vessels for devouring ideas and feelings, they move towards the borderland of insanity. The Outcast lacks the firmness of Jerusalem and suffers, possibly, from a not completely convincing germinal idea. It is doubtful if the cannibalism of the hero and his Arctic companions, under the direst extremes of hunger and delirium, can be rightly assumed to evoke quite that passion of loathing which Miss Lagerlöf demands. There is an unfortunate strain here; too much is made of our instincts. Nor was it necessary to disprove the charge, so far as hero was concerned, at a sentimental last moment.
Vocations, by Gerald O'Donovan (12mo, 334 pages; Boni and Liveright: $2) is a novel offered under the aegis of George Moore, quite obviously the George Moore who wrote Esther Waters and The Lake. The book treats, with a convincing circumstantiality, of the Catholic priesthood and of convent life in Ireland. Contrary to the usual study of the religious life, the author examines the results of too little religion rather than of too much; his characters are all involved in a comprehensive system of religious gestures, but they have drifted into their vocations instead of arriving at them per aspera, and herein lies the message. Mr O'Donovan writes with a certain neutral impeccability, conceiving his story in the block, and evidently not distressed by page upon page of "he murmured, with a suppressed sneer," or "he absentmindedly replied," or "and said effusively."
Prosas Profanas, by Ruben Dario, translated by Charles B. McMichael (12mo, 60 pages; Brown: $1.20). The author addresses his soul, "And deeper than any vulgar consciousness may know, Thou explorest the darkest and most terrible labyrinths." The results, however, are much less drastic, and if the poet is distorted it is the distortion of a marble satyr on a green lawn. For Dario is first of all a lover of ornament; his emotions are always rhetorized, and retain something of the old Spanish gesture.
The Whistler Journal, by E. R. & J. Pennell (illus., 8vo, 339 pages; Lippincott: $8.50) can be made the subject of any number of essays—except one attacking the Pennells for neglecting Whistler. This work is freely composed of the memories and journals kept by them; and their immense fortune is that Whistler's everydays were not dull. The whole book is interesting, and even those who dislike or affect to dislike Whistler's particular humours will confess that they are more entertaining than the total lack of humour in others to whom journals have been dedicated. The work is well done, the documentation full and not excessive, the illustrations intelligently selected. An ideal book in its kind, the kind being indispensable to worshippers and interesting to nearly everyone besides.
