Evening star., 1923-10-02
NEW BOOKS
AT RANDOM
AMERICAN NIGHTS ENTERTAIN
MENT. Grant Overton. Appleton,
Doran, Doubleday. Scrihners.

MENT. Grant Overton. Appleton,
Doran, Doubleday, Scribners.
The world Of books is an overpop-
ulated world wherein the unwaywise
reader promptly becomes either hope
lessly lost or helplessly confused.
Turned loose in the great metropolis
of books this average reader is much
like the stay-at-home set down for
the first time in the turmoil of Lon
don or New York. If, as in earlier
years. reading were confined chiefly
to n few skinned off the top of the
general population the situation would
offer no no problem. But nowadays
everybody. There obtrudes right here
the discomfiting ratio of illiteracy
that the war roundup disclosed. Still,
after all, practically every one does
read. To meet this general and ac-
tive interest each year produces an
increasing rabble of books. all clam
orous for recognition. all soiicitous
for acceptance. No wonder that plain
reading men and women lose their
heads and send out a persistent sos
lists of best books spring up like
mushrooms, lists for summer read
ing, lists to meet every imaginable
mental stir of the people. Reading
advice drips steadily from the spigots
of general knowledge and special
preference
Once in month o. Sundays, once In
blue moon, there comes along one
who walks the puzzling crisscross
streets of the city of 100000 books
as If he Were patrolling Main street
in his home town on the Wabash.
Such a one came in a minute ago. An
unpretentious fellow, even though he
turned out to be filled and packed
down with current book lore.
A rarity, for an intimacy with
books is mighty swelling in its ef-
fects sometimes. Overton strolled
In like any other mere man, behaving
no more like a literary pundit than
could you Or !. Slumping down, easy
once commenced to talk, pretty much
to himself, it seemed. Certainly
there was no hint of an audience in
his manner. Oh: yes. a whale OF q
one wild messing around them for
hopeless, though; a post set up
here, a light strung there: =" oh.
not his post" not his light" mind
you; these placed rather by a
lot Of folks working together. And
then in 4 minute or SO he was talk
about Joseph Conrad. From these
he swung off and away. bringing up
in the neighborhood of Gene Stratton
Porter and Harold Bell Wright. In
between, he stopped here and there
for Edith Wharton and Zona Gale.
for Joseph Lincoln and Booth Tark-
| ington. for Arthur Train and V. Sack
ville-West (For the last of these
he has clearly a. genuine literary pas
b on). To Christopher Morley he gave
a little monologue all by itself. since
| Morley Is by temperament unsuited
to even the most accommodating OF
pigeonholes. What was he saying
about them? Well, he was. after a
fashion, analyZing the outstanding
work of these authors. At least.
suppose he was, but it sounded not
bit In the world like the stiR for
malism ofthe usual analysis. Rather
was It a casual going along with this
story or that one. taking II up here
in q word. there in a phrase. yonder
/ in clipped conclusion. Yet. in sum.
here was literary criticism at Its
best-approachable, even sociable.
The real point of Mr.. Overton'
dropping in for a talk came, how
ever, one is sure, when he slipped
into moments of easy reminiscence
about the real men and women be-
nl0Q Lnelr DOCKS .None "oulu hHo"
better than he that here, after all,
wasthe real point of contact between
book and it's reader. What sort of
person is this writer? Where does
he live? Who are his friends? What
does he do every day when he Is not
gets into his stories and what part
eludes them? No idle curiosity at all
Admiration rather tinged, maybe
with envy of the power that can pro-
ject in such truth and beauty that
which We feel and possibly possess
with no such gift for its expression
These intimate touches gave new
joys TO old readings. They proved to
be, as we'll. among the best and most
quickening things that Mr.. Overton
and bestowing hour among these
writer's and their books.
4 *f4s
From these writer's and their work
Mr.. Overton fell back into certain ad-
ventures in reading. In not time at
all he had spread the magic carpe,
and upon it we were whirled away
now through the realms of actual
space, now into the far domain of the
mind; And round and about us
| bers. each the old Haroun himself
come back to body. Famed travellers
all, spreading out before us the
wonders OF the world and the mar
vels of the imagination. There fol-
lowed then a "breathless" hour in
which the men of mystery and the
men of laughter strive one against
the other for leadership in the lists
of mans entertainment. After them
the playmakers and the poets came
trooping, and right there We sat up
straight, as one is likely to do when
he sees friend in the crowd. We
caught glimpse of John Hall
Wheelock in his "unhurried ascent
to the highest rank among cotempo-
rary American poets" eve are not
quoting Mr.. Overton here. While he
feels just about this poet he would
| never have said 1t that way.)
what Mr.. Overton called Lost Pat
terms" that something Individual In
scheme or style, something wholly
personal In flavor that essence which
a writer here and there may have
caught, once, wholly and UNIQUELY
What he meant Is illustrated by what
sa ne SAID al about George Moore's Hail
writer like George Moore, not even
George Moore" Then, entirely wide
awake, quite up-and-coming. Mr.. Over
ton talked about the world of books
for children. or course, Alice led off, but
the rest came on at a proper distance
All but "Susanna's Auction" which
failed to get In at all. That hurt
my feelings, for Susanna Is a child
that minds slight like everything,
and / love Susanna. Then Mr.. Over
ton got up and shook himself out
and said he must be getting along.
why don't you put all that into a
book?" said I. 81 will have" said
he. And surely enough he had. for
not long after the book came my way
Talking about bookshelf, here is
one that for its kind cannot be beat
en-. Not a big book, yet It has about
the whole of the current writing field
spread out within it. Good house