The New York herald., 1922-11-26

crous mistake. But there is no wrenching
of fate. no impossible variations in Miss
Sinclairs exposition of the effect of war
on her characters, or on her plot.
The book is a distinguished piece of writ
ing as well as moving and a deeply in
teresting story that touches at moments
an intensity never before attained by the
author. and in which you lose yourself
completely. Surely this is an achievement
H. H. OSKISON.
SWANN'S WAY. By Marcel Proust Trans
lated by Charles Scott Moncrieff Henry
Holt & Co.
T T would be worse than impertinent te
attempt anything approaching a def
mite summing up of a work of such
magnitude as "Swann's Way on the
strength of first rapid reading, however
intent, absorbed and enthusiastic. These
two volumes constitute only one of the
five parts which make up the long auto
Geographic series entitled in the original
"a La Recherche du Temps Perdu"; and
amazing as they are in their amplitude
their exhaustless analysis of certain
phases of the life and thought of France
Of to-day, one feels that they constitute
segments of a much vaster scheme, the ul-
innate pattern of which is not here suf-
ficiently developed to justify a guess al
its purpose.
This much at least, however, may be
ventured without fear of contradiction:
Marcel Proust stands for very nearly the
last word in the development OF the psyche
logical novel. He has carried the analyt-
ical method to an extent never before
attempted in fiction. probing down, in his
search for ultimate causes, into those
obscure subconscious depths, the very
existence of which were popularly unknown
before the advent of Freud. The con-
summate art with which NJ Proust full
fills his purpose the tireless zeal with
which he follows an emotion an impulse
backward to its remotest, obscurest first
cause, regardless of syntactical difficulties
and breathless length of trailing sentences
that meander at times unbroken through
the full length and breadth of a printed
page, will naturally tend to divide the
public sharply into two classes: those
who find the barrier of his slow moving
style and method insuperable, and frankly
say HE may be great, but he is not for
u.s.; and those who read on, oblivious OF
his manner. intent only in assimilating the
richness that he has to offer
In attempting anything like a specific
epitome of the substance of these volumes
reviewer suddenly feels an unwonted
helplessness The amplitude, the minute
ness, the occasional redundancy, are not
tissue covering the vital inner skeleton
they are part and parcel of the skeleton
itself, warp and woof of the essential
fabric of the work; and every attempt al
brief retellng robs it of just so much
of its inherent color and vitality. This
is especially true of the second division
of Volume One, entitled "Combray." One
may define it, of course, as the record ot
a small boys impressions through zoo
pages. of the little French village where
he was taken for yearly visit to an old
paralyZed great-aunt, whose outlook OF
life was limited to the narrow vista of the
village street afforded by her bedroom
window, and whose sole daily excitement
centered in discussing with her servant
F'ranaoise, the comings and goings of
villagers along that street. Yet out OF
this slim material NJ Proust has recon
structed for us a whole phase of French