Evening star., 1937-11-20
By Mary.Carfer Roberts;
Winston Churchill. New York: G..
P. PutnamS Sons.


Il acauaintances. There is moth
ing of any particular moment in the
volume: yet it can be recommended
as pleasantly entertaining. Mr..
Churchill writes skillfully. He sub
jectS his material to impressive con-
densation, he applies to it bril-
liant polish. And these devices very
successfully cover the fact that his
material itself consists of quite or
dlnary observation. He has given us
book, in short, which can be read
with easy pleasure and without any
tiresome exercise of the critical fac
ulty. He deserves gratitude.
His subjects are all very prominent
men. BY far the greater number of
them is taken from the field of pol
tics. These include Lord Roseberry
Joseph Chamberlain, John Morley,
Boris SaVinkov, >Asquith, the first
Earl of Blrkenhead, Trotsky, Lord
Ralfour, Lord Curzon, Philip Snow
den and Clemenceau. From among
the one-tlme rulers OF the world Mr.
Churchill also chooses a few names
the former Kaiser the former King of
Spain and George V of England.
And these warriors are among his
memories-Sn John French, Gen.
Hlndenberg, Lawrence of Arabia, Mar
shal Foch and Lord Haig From the
lists of wrlters-that is, of writer's who
are only wrlters-he has chosen
George Bernard Shaw.
The book is one which depends
entirely on style Mr.. Churchill throws
little light on the characters of his
subjects beyond that with which their
public careers have already illumi-
mated them. His personal reminls-
cences are not IN any way intimate
either. But he has an entertaining
manner of putting those things which
we already know; Shaw, for example,
he calls bright. nlmble, fierce and
comprehendlng being Jack Frost,
dancing bespangled in the sunshine;
of Trotsky he says with truly mag
nlfcent brevity, He must have been
difficult man to please" and Law
renee he calls, An epic, a prodigy, a
tale Of torment and in the heart Of it
Man" Such Well-made phrases give
life to material not remarkable for
Its strict content.
The reviewer found the essays on
Shaw, Savnkov, Lawrence. Trotsky.
Alfonso, Hitler and Clemenceau the
best of the group 1t is perhaps par
ticularly interesting to note how Mr..
Churchill views the German Fuehrer,
since England recently has shown a
disposition to cultivate amiable re-
latIons with the Nazi state. He char
aCterlzes Hitler's campaigns against
the Jews, the church, the Socialists,
Communists and Trade Unionlsts as
''frightful evils but asserts that his
rebuilding of Germany has been
superb toll" What manner of man
Is this?' he then asks Does he still
share the passions he has evoked?
Does he, in the full sunlight of worldly
triumph, at the head Of the great
nation he has raised from the dust,
Still feel racked by the hatredS and
antagonlsms of his desperate strug-
gle; or will they be discarded like
the armor and the cruel weapons Of
strife under the meIloWing influences
of success? Evidently burning queS-
ton for men of all nations!'
Most of the essays, however deal
with the past. And most of Mr..
Churchill's judgments are kindly. He
leases Shaw a little, commenting on
the paradox presented by his orderly
and profitable private career as against
his revolutionary and soclallstlc public
utterances; he lasheS Trotsky, but with
more contempt than hatred; he treats
of the differences between Foch and
the British military staff with frank
ness, but without bitterness. On the
whole the tone of the book is un-
provocative and forbearlng.
The reviewer recommends the vol
tune for pleasant reading. 1t is un-
likely that its author intended it for
any other purpose, but that one is
admirably fulfilled
IMPERIAL CITY. BY Elmer Rice.
New York: Coward Mccain, Inc.
THIS large dreary' earnest and un-
grammatical novel unquestionably
has a certain impressive quality. 1t
Is 554 pages of very small type and
has characters running into the hum
dreds. Yet the reviewer holds that
not size alone accounts for the afore-
mentioned quality, which is kind of
depressing greatness. There is more
to it than that. Wading through its
vast gray narrative, battered to a
critical pulp by the dead weight of
Mr.. Rice's fiat sophomore prose the
reviewer was tempted more than once
to cast the work aside and write of it
only that she could not stand the
gong.
But something prevented her from
doing this. 1t was not so much that
she wanted to know what happened;
1t was rather that she acquired a sort
of morbid curiosity as to whether any,
thing ever would happen. 1t seemed
impossible that Mr.. Rice could keep
on to the end of his very thick VOL
ume without letting some action creep
in. One-quarter through, one-third
through, the reviewer told herself that
now, at last, he must be getting
under way. Half through she still
had hopes. Coming down the home
stretch Gf any words SO associated
with speed can properly be used in
this connection) she said to herself
that this must be one of those novels
which end in a grand climax, saving
ell effect for final scene. But she
was mistaken. Nothing ever did hap
pen. She concludes now that it is in
precisely this fact that the greatness
Of Imperial City lies, A book which
can pile up words to such length as
this, without any action whatsoever,
is definitely an accomplishment. 1t
takes genius to produce it.
Nor should readers think that the
above statements are made mockingly.
Imperial City" would seem to be its
authors Interpretation of New York
not Of life in New York, but of the
town itself, vast sluggish organism
fokar1 aS u;bn1o fI1arl ,,,;~,+a