New-York tribune., 1922-05-21
Paris News Letter
By Lewis Galantiere

lies Theories d'Einstcin," has been
sold to the number Of $4,000 copies.
The list itself may give us pause. 1t
includes two war books, those Of Bar
busse and Dorgeles, each of which is
an excellent piece of writing. They
are the best Of their kind in French,
and are eminently worthy to be placed
beside Latzko's "Men in War" and
Leonhard Franks "Der Mensch ist
gut" "Les Oberle" is the best novel Of
sober, pedestrian writer; Lies Desen-
chantees" is, on the contrary, Lofts
worst fiction. "LAtlantide" is decidedly
not literature, tricky, trashy, enter
tanning book by self-confessed manu-
is a volume of clever, amusing and oc-
casionally poignant verse, preference
for which may be forgiven certain peo-
pie.
The remaining four are novels Of
quality. Mana" may not be put beside
"Germinal, for example, or ''Le Deba-
clc.' Certain readers have found it por-
nographic, but it is great novel by a
wonderful romanticist who, in his mas
terry Of the sweep and movement Of
crowds is without an equal. lie Lys
Rouge" is one Of Frances books for
| which French critics have particular
affection. placing it higher in the list
of his writings than I, personally, am
able to do. "Cyrano" is, of course, Ros-
tand's masterpiece, and the quality of
the Hemon novel was recently revealed
to you.
1t is interesting to remark that the
book which has had the greatest sale
is play in verse, and that it's sale is
only half so great as that of Tosti's
Goodbye" or single novel by Mrs
Burnett, Mrs. Porter or the novelist
whom Mencken once called Harold
Cant Wright. Beside the quality Of the
French list, an American collection
would have made a dismal showing in
1910; to-day, I venture to believe, the
readers. 1t would be interesting to see
the two lists published together.
M. Henry Bordeaux, novelist for the
pious bourgeoisie, whose name 1 was
surprised and gratifed to miss from
the list Of best sellers, has just pub
lished "La Maison Morte." Captain
Bordeaux was a General Staff officer
during the war and gained his Cross
of the Legion Of Honor by a visit made
one day behind the front for the pur-
pose of getting first-hand propaganda
data.
There is French novelist who shall
be nameless here and who is president
of an association of litterateurs who
won the war. He has traded success
fully on his war record and is known
! as lie soldat trop-connu."
Myriam Harry has just published
the fourth and last volume ("Le Tendre
Cantique de Siona") in the series COM
menced by "La Petite File de Jersua-
lem," Siona chez les Barbares," and
"Siona Paris" These volumes Git may
be recalled) tell the story of little
Jerusalemite who, after an enchanted
childhood in the Orient, amelanch oily
adolescence in Germany, and a period
Of joyous and adventurous apprentice
ship in Paris, goes out to China with a
French business man from Shanghai.
In the present volume we are told
that she has abandoned the bounder
who protected her in the East and has
returned to a literary career in Paris.
Here two men come into her life, one,
l.. P. Mirmans, author Of LA Basilique
(read Huysmans), and the other, an
unhappy young sculptor WnQm She
loves and marries. The story of their
idyl is lovely one, and the portrait
of Ruysmans is drawn with sympathy
and affection. Nine. Harry's writing
has great charm, but it is happier Gum
der the influence of Loti) outside Of
Paris, in her own Orient, than here.
l do not like to pass over the work
of Jerome and Jean Tharaud with a
few words, not even when my subject
is novel so disappointing as their
"Randonnee de Samba Diouf," the tale
of negro Of the Sudan. Assuredly no
more competent novelists are writing
i'll France than these brothers. They
write an elegant healthy, polished
prose, easy and pleasurable to read;
they are superb story-tellers, clear
eyed, impartial observers, whose art
conceals Recommendation which might
be envied by the writer of doctors
thesis.
Their "Un Royaume de Dieu," for ex-
ample, is marvel of clarity and dis
tinction, of penetration into the OBJ
scure souls of Jews and Moujiks of the
Ukraine. Their evocative power is as
tonishing; in a few words they create
village Or landscape, which rests
so sharply etched that the reader fol-
lows the characters of the novel with
the mechanical familiarity which takes
him through the streets of his own
city. But this Sudanese novel smells
of the French Academy, where they
will be received. I feel certain, in pref
erence to Paul Claudel or Andre Glide.