New-York tribune., 1919-11-29
Reviews From Readers
Various Points of View Expressed
About Vaughan and May Sinclair

1t was our intention to include re-
views of w. Somerset Naugham's "The
Moon and Sixpence" and May Sin
clair's MARY Olivier" in this fiction
number of The New York Tribune book
pages, but the announcement that space
would be devoted to q reconsidera-
ton of these books brought number
of letters and 80 we have decided to
let readers express their views rather
than warm over our own for q sec
ond serving. This is particularly easy
in the case Of the Vaughan book, as
active opposition as we'll as good will
We are inclined to agree with the
correspondent who assails the character
OF Strickland on the ground that he
is too consistent. But nevertheless
we think Mr. Maugham's book a capital
piece Of writing, somewhat short Of
true greatness, to be sure, but still
distinguished and important. However,
here We are stealing space which be
longs not to us but to the members of
the opposition.
Lorna r. F. Birtwel disaerees with
our estimate Of "The Moon and Six
pence" and writes:
1T isn't, of course, an immoral book
but isn't it awfully sentimental? The
subject of the artist who sacrifices
everybody, including himself, to his
art is not particularly new one; and
IN this case the cold cruelty of Strick-
land, more often than not motiveless,
seems to me to have all the ideallzed
exaggerations toward badness that one
usually finds employed in the other
direction. Is he typical Of those up
and-down, vain and sensitive, but mag
nificent creatures called artists, who,
now and then, in q surprisingly ruth
less way, push out OF their path an
interfering element, and show us, in
a flash, that their sails are set by
another wind than ours? Shelley
canned Harriet Westbrook; but. in
her hour of distress. he asked her to
come and live with him and Mary
Godw.n; and then the romantic
creature married her. I mean Harriet,
IN the first place. Isn't Strickland too
awfully consistent? And the r. who
tells the story, literary chap and all
that. in every ones confidence, isn't
he the same nosy old bore who crops
up in so many similar works with
that faint air of distinction, Of appeal
ing to select crowd? Far better,
think, IS the artist represented in
Villa Sibert Gathers Song of the
Lark. There is the same insistent
pressing toward mark, the same
divine lmpatience, most humanity eX-
pressed, the same ruthle ssness with all
that interferes; but there the resem-
blance stops. Kronborg is a person
visibly born and bred, not a monster
asking you if you can't find it in your
Sibert Gather. She has three magniti-
cent books to her credit-'Oh,
Pioneers' The Song Of the Lark and
My Antonia.' They are intensely
American in that they have as back
ground crude little settlements of for
eign born people in the West; but
they are not q bit picturesque. They
are deep going and wide and vital. If
you could now and then interject be-
tween the last felicity of the third
and Hudson's remarks on the dog the
fact that My Antonia, or any one Of
the others is worth while, and that
villa Sibert Gather is producing the
real American novel--or some such
dope as that people would read it, or
her, as | have read Ransome's s Russia
and many others, to their great good"
Kathleen Eddy. III speaking about
The Moon and Sixpence.' writes:
"To save my soul I cannot>i gine
any adequate reason why the book
should have been written, or, having
been written, should re liked. have
never read 4 book that was so plainly
q marionctte show. II Vaughan had
told the gentle reader in the good old
fashioned way that the story was
about to open and to facilitate the
telling he would take no part in it
himself, but that his company Of pup
pets would give an excellent perform
ance he could not have shown more