Evening star., 1926-12-28
NEW BOOKS
AT RANDOM
I. C. M.
SHOT TOWERS. John T.. Mcintyre.
Frederick A. Stokes Co.

SHOT TOWERS. John T. Mcintyre.
Frederick A. Stokes Co.
Now that the hubbub and hurly-
burly of the peace-and-g goodwill period
have died away in exhaustion 1t is
possible to sit down in ease and
quietude to that which, not so long
ago, was a usual and profitable part
of the general Christmas celebration
itself. Before the automobile turned
every other man into a set of wheels
bent desperately upon the business Of
trying to run away from himself,
Christmas reading was as truly a
share of holiday time as were Santa
Claus and the reindeer and the
Christmas tree. 1t was then that
Dickens annually came to life again,
and the Apostles, and Wilde, and many
another writer of understanding heart
to warm and freshen the common out
look upon a New World created by
Jesus Christ. 1t was then that Yule-
I tide reading-either for a new intake
of inspiration, or for sheer pleasure,
or possibly only in pious Difference to
! literary habit-was Joyous essential
of the season and one not to be sur
passed by any other measure OF per
sonal restoring and recreating.
I came to know John Mcintyre by
way Of Blowing Weather" lure of
romance about Colonial Philadelphia
An Individual method-original and
striking-projected this novel of the
! early days In an American seaport.
From 1t emerged also an imaginative
gift Of new and unusual quality. A
fine and breezy tale is Blowing
: Weather" one still growing in its ef-
! fects Of mellow power. This holiday
| Shot Towers" has come my way. 1
met 1t eagerly and read it in an alb
sorption Of interest. Then I, too, was
caught In an overwhelming tide of the
seasons good cheer. thereby tenn
porar1ly turning recreant to both duty
and very real pleasure. But it's not
/ too late to tell you something about
this book, since for the first time in
weeks is there now leisure to read
anything. I'd not delay about this
! novel If I were you. for it is, in es-
sence, part and parcel of holiday time
Again this author sets a story in
| Philadelphia, in the city as It was
about half century ago. You do
not, In effect. begin here to read a
! romance. Instead, on a cold night
along toward Christmas, you arrive in
the old town. And never once do you
read. Rather, do you go along with
! the multitudinous affairs that gather
! so vividly here and there. 4 fascinat-
| ing time and place! So Immediately
near and humanl
| The streets, snow-drifted, are filed
| with beautiful horses, or SO it seems
| to us, now that the horse is well on
! his way to join the dodo. Bells ring,
/ runners creak, laughter floats out
from fur-packed sleighs. horse-ca
! plod, and vehicles of every sort speed
f. behind splendid teams and tandems
and singles. Windows gleam with
| lights from little shops. From in
| Vulnerable heart-warming homely inns
there come, with hastily opened and
! shut doors, gusts of steamy warmth
and delectable smells of things to eat
and drink. Here are old hooks and
corners Of the city, reaching the heart
with their reminiscent charm. Here
are common folks going their common
ways. The story drifts through the
| seasons of the year, each one as keen
| ly alive as is this Winter time of our
! arrival
The story action is that of stolen
patent-or so some very active ones
would have you think. 1t does look
| too. at first sight, as If Mrs. Carey
! Lord love her-had been deeply
| wronged by a man who, after her sons
death, took and worked his patent SO
| successfully. Somehow, though. you'll
| not be able to see Joe Kyle as a thief.
| However. let that go. The story is for
you to discover and enjoy. Little Mrs.
| Carey-old. poor. gentle and wise-iS
| a heroine to love and remember, long
after the regulation sirens and vamps
of romance have moved into complete
| forgetfulness. Here is a really beau
| tiful story, but even this is not the
! crowning point of shot Towers"
| That rests upon its amazing content
| of the life of a past day that John
| Mcintyre has recreated in q bodily
actuaIity of effect. And the chief In
struments Of this re-embodiment are
| the five senses of the author, to which
| is added a very Ing genious method of
portrayal. I'm sure that never in any
| other novel have sight and hearing
and touch and taste and smell worked
| more diligently and more effectively
| for it's author than these have here
| worked for John Mcintyre. One
| shivers in the cold that he creates, or
| snuggles to the fires that he builds.
| Ones mouth waters over his foods and
| drinks. And these sense impressions
MOIh lUCt1 way oA1 ~ tAC wal IH1itS VI
! the heart and to the Weakening of
human sympathy. An odd method
goes along with this clear literary
genius Of the senses. When Mr.. Nc
Intyre wants to build a horse, or a
man, or place, or an incident, he
throws away the usual pack of dilut-
ing grammatical nhibition-conjunc-
tions, propositions, relating mechan-
isms generally-and packs that object
with the sheer qualities that make 1t
, what 1t Is. And there you have. say
a man or an animal, to put your hand
on, or to talk to face to face. Queer
reading? Not at all. If 1t were you
wouldn't know 1t, because you are
not reading. You are taking part. In
the same way he makes his "atmos-
pheres." that bugaboo Of the average
| writer and clear despair of every
| reader. Realism, whatever this may
mean? I guess so. Certainly the
realist thing I've met In reading in a
long time, and, without doubt, one of
the most interesting. Christmas
story to last the year round, as it
should.
A YOUNG MANS FANCY. John T.
Mcintyre. Frederick A. Stokes.
Just pure fantasy and a very deep
reality besides. The young man falls
in love with beautiful girl-a wax
girl in q shop window. More charm
| ing every day does she become under
the holden eyes of the dreamy young
Pickering. On the beach or on the
| golf links, hunting or driving, just
lounging or being a social belle-it
is all the same to Pickering. Here
| beyond doubt is the Incompatible
one. Gusts Of love, spasms of jeal-
ouSy, long condolences, easy hours of
companionship come and go in turn
here to mark the course of Picker
ing's wooing of the wax figure. Nom