The New York herald., 1922-11-12
N EW FICTION
-IN-
VARIED FORMS

A'A as a poet novelist of no common
place order, but in this, her latest phase,
she appears as a poet gone somehow
wrong. If only all of this book were as
good as some of it, it might have been a
tale that would have placed her far above
the author of "To Have and To Hold" or
any of the intermediate volumes that she
has put out during the last twenty years.
The idea of this lis epic; perhaps that is
what is the matter with the book for Miss
Johnston is not an epic poet. There are
many very beautiful passages, following a
splendid start, but then the narrative thins
and wanders off into a fog. and-to put
it brutally-becomes very hard reading.
Miss Johnston is importanAenough to call
for the application of severe critical meas
urements, though it is an ungrateful task.
1t seems a pity that in proportion as
some qualities of her work have been de-
veloping and maturing during the last
decade she should have taken over certain
sadly Gripping faults of style. There was
q clearness and smoothness about her
earlier work, in spite of occasional awk-
Weaknesses that indicated the conscientious
artisan Now she seems to have cast that
aside for curious inspirational Babu-Eng-
lish, almost a Patience Worth style, which
so confuses and annoys the reader that If
he would finish the book he must do so
by sheer force of will.
The story is a romantic version of the
life of Columbus. keeping fairly close to
the familiar tradition and accepted facts.
1t is told in the first person by one Jayne
de Marchena, an adventurous gentleman
who was in danger from the Inquisition be-
cause, unfortunately, he had jewish
grandmother. He enlists as common
sailor, calling himself Juan Lepe, and sails
with Columbus The machinery of IL is
good. and is not too much intruded. She
has added little to the material ready at
hand, of which there was excess supply.
And up to the time of Columbus's actual
departure from Spain she focuses the story
upon groups not too large for the canvas
of an ordinary novel. They are life size
figures, seen clearly enough, and animated
not moving too eccentrically for the imagi-
nation to follow. They are soundly dra-
matte: a little stiff. as if they moved to
music and took their stage positions
obediently to their actor managers direc-
ton, but there is life in it. variety, and
the interest is held.
In this part one even forgets to COM
plain of the curiosities of diction, and be-
gins to think that Miss Johnston is going
to do something very much worth while
Lines of real poetry flash out; thoughtful
phrases, and you become aware of her as
right, not an imltator.
But then she goes to sea. And from that
point to the end of a very long story it is
as if she had lost her way in a wild en-
deavor to cram in everything. The figures
dwindle and become obscure Small Incl
dents and the great sweep of events are
given the same values, and all cemented
into Heterogeneous mass by large amount
of turgid comment The actors lose what
life and stature they had and become small
and cramped in action. There is blurring.
a breaking down of narrative tissue. and
one has an unhappy sense of good piece
gone wrong. The thing as a whole lacks
dramatic unity.
In spite of her fondness for the historical
novel, she has little of historic imagina
ton in the sense in which, for example
and contrast, Charles Kingsley had it. This
book, unhappily. challenges comparison
with Westward Hol" Nevertheless, the
fine things in it, such as the scene at an
inn (Chapter III) where there are a few