The Birmingham age-herald., 1924-11-30

Much has been written concerning the state of literature in the south, but has any one ever said anything about the said condition of most of the book shops below the Potomac? It may be getting the cart before the horse to say that reading is at the low ebb it is be- cause of the paucity of decent book stores, but sometimes the cart actually ougkt to be in front and we, for the moment, please to put our sorry Pega- sus behind. It is our guess that the fingers on one hand would serve to tell off the really creditable shops where books are for sale.
 It has been our experience that in most cities when one wants a book he enters store where waste baskets, picture-frames, kodak supplies, mani cure-sets, stationery, table covers, pen nants, milk chocolate advertisements, and pin-cushions riot clamorously for attention. If one is persistent, he may find back shelf with a few recent novels from the best seller list, prob- ably a good many children's books, and q rather towering pile of "Sateveposts' and True Story" magazines. If one survives, he must be content to have the owner of the shop promise to or der the book from the publishers. "Be here in a week, we think" is what he is told.
 All this is called forth by the fact that we have recently received jovial letter and an alluring folder advertis- ing 'The Little House." new book shop at Savannah. The Little House which owes its origin and policies to the combined planning of Mrs. Craig Barrow, Mrs. Balcolm Bell, and Mrs David Barrow, seems to be the sort of place where books dominate and where leisurely browsing is invited. That the shop is filling a need is indicated in the fact that ten copies of John Wade's "Longstreet" were sold in the first two weeks. We hope to hear of shops in other cities with something of a book ish atmosphere.
 It was some time last summer when we ran upon an article about Fl Paso in "The American Mercury" The writer was Owen White and ever since then we have had a weather eye out us his book verses called Just Me" plains, "it is just me-" Of this we are
 
 original blending of Bret Harte pathos Robert Services "Open Spaces, and James Whitcomb Riley whimsy. Not that White has initiated these men, for all we know he may not have read them, but the verses constantly call to mind these qualities. They are the sort of thing one likes to have around to read to a jovial friend who boasts that he '''can't go poetry To suggest the flavor of the book we quote two stanzas from the title poem:
 I've always tried to do the things
 The world has said I shouldn't,
 And what the world has said to do
 I've always said I wouldn't
 And yet it seems I haven't been
 As bad as I might be;
 Because some people who've advised Have also envied me.
 In these cramped days of realism and naturalism it's a brave person who at tempts the poetic drama, and yet that is just what Frances Guignard Globes has done in her "The Face" (Bren- tona's), three-act play with renais- sance Italy as a background. Slight. perhaps, in dramatic action, "The Face" is, nevertheless, effective as a picture and character portrayal of early six teenth century life in Florence and Milan. Its characters are largely art ists, Leonardo da Vinoi being the cen tral figure, his painting of the face of Christ in his Last Supper" the eli matic height of the drama. Through it all runs the story of da Vinci and the Monna Lisa. The play is poetical- ly conceived and effectively interpret ed; its reading makes vivid an hour or two of renaissance life. Probably too sensitive a bit of work for com mercial managers, it is just the thing which some small theatre movement might handle adequately and success fully.
 Our propensity for gossip has brought us all sorts of odds and ends this week. We have learned, for in stance, that w. E. Woodward, author of the recent Lottery" will sail Sat urday for France where he plans to spend several years writing; that Will bur Daniel Steeles one-act play, "The Giants Stair" is just out in Appleton s fifty-cent series; that Daniel Tender son, whose fathers book store in Bal timOre was for many years the rendez- vous for lovers of poetry, is the author