Evening star., 1938-01-12
NEW BOOKS
AT RANDOM
BAGHDAD SKETCHES. BY Freya Stark.
NeM Xark E p Dutton e. ca
BY MARGARET GERMOND.

BAGHDAD SKETCHES. BY Freya Stark.
New York: E. P. Dutton & Co.
1.-THE width of the Tgris in Baghdad
Is about four hundred yards, a noble
stream. 1t is the only sweet and fresh
thoroughfare of the town; not clear
water, but lion-coloured, like Tiber or
Arno. Its broad flowing surface is dyed
by the same earth of which the houses
and minarets on its banks are built,
so that all is one tawny harmony. Its
low winter mists in early morning, or
yellow slabs of sunset shadows when
the water buffaloes come down to drink
after the day; its many craft, evolved
through the centuries SO that one looks
as it were upon an epitome of the his
tory of ships from the earliest days of
mankind; the barefoot traffic of its
banks, where the women come with jars
upon their shoulders and boatmen tow
their vessels against the current; all
this was perpetual joy in my new
home"
Here again is Freya Stark, traveller,
writer and camera artist, Sketching in
word and picture another section of
that region in Western Asia in which
no one else seems to have absorbed so
much beauty. to have been SO warmly
welcome and to have welded such strong
bonds Of friendship among all the castes
of the many races that comprise the
Near East. The scene noted above is
that viewed from room in the house
of a carpenter in which the author
made her home after an unfortunate and
unSavory drainage situation had made
life in tiny house on a SiX-foot street
in the slum district impossible Miss
Stark had not been in. Baghdad before.
and the experience of the small house
grew out OF the necessity OF living at
an expense of less than one pound
day.
No experience, however, Is too trivial
or too uninviting to be cast aside by
this wise traveller and delightful author
as an unimportant event. She has
boundleSs interest in everything that
happens, and is endowed with the phil
osophy of the true adventurer. She
defines what is perhaps the whole secret
Of her joy in travel when she says that
ito awaken quite alone in a strange
town is one Of the pleaSantest Sensa-
tions in the world. You are surrounded
by adventure. You have no idea of
what is in store for you, but you will,
If you are wise and know the art of
travel, let yourself go on the stream
OF the unknown and accept whatever
comes in the spirit in which the gods
may offer it. If you sally forth
with a leisurely and a blank mind,
there is no knowing what may not
happen to YOU"
1t is in this spirit that she has wan
dered through Arabia, Persia and Iraq
winning the friendship of desert and
mountain folk, mingling freely and as
welcome visitor among the rival tribes
and sects that abide in the same COM
munities and finding always something
to crafty her Unsuitable thirst for knoWl-
edge, beauty and adventure. Her path
seldom lies along the usual routes of
travel, and her places of abode do not
often conform to the popular demand for
comforts on par with those of Euro
pean centerS of culture. Explorer and
archeologist as we'll as splendid writer,
she is attracted to remote places. where
her eyes and her intellect are necessarily
alert.
This book begins with Miss Starks
journey from Damascus across the
Syrian Desert to Baghdad. where she
made herself at home. acquired innum-
erable as we'll as valuable friends, and
became thoroughly saturated with knowl-
edge of the life of Baghdad today, with
the customs and traditions of it's colorful
civilization, with its history and its cul-
ture and with its growing tendency
toward mOdernlZation. The sketches
cover many interesting events and fas-
cinating scenes and are told as only q
descriptive genius of the caliber of Miss
Stark can tell them. Baghdad, however,
does not occupy the whole of her atten-
ton, for too much was to be seen and
learned in other places. and she re-
sponded to the irresistible urge to visit
Nlsibln, Samarra and Tekrit to the
north, Kuwait, Failichah. Nejf and many
other places to the south. She called
upon desert chieftains and their fami-
lies witnessed tribal and ceremonial
dances, and attended Christmas mass
Of the Syriac Christians, which she de-
scribes in part as follows:
AT 4:30 am, when the minarets
across the water scarce showed against
the faintness Of the dawn, my hostess
and were already on our way to Mass.
The bridge of boats was deserted We
reached the Christian quarter across
the early silence of New street, and
found its dark alleys filled with quiet
streams of people on their way to the
Chaldean, Armenian, Latin, Syriac or
Jacobite Churches, which are all hidden
away unobtrusively among the labyrinth
Of houses. They are modern and ugly
when seen in the vacant light of day.
but now, as we came from the half
light outside, we opened the heavy door
on what looked like a bed of tulips
brilliantly Illuminated, so vivid and
rustling and shimmering were the many
coloured silk izars' of the women who
filled the nave in the light of lamps
and candles.
In the center of the church, half
hidden by the crowd, the Bishop and
his clergy were busy over a bonfire,
surrounded by men who chanted wild,
swift Syriac hymn. = AS we entered,
the dry wood caught fire and sheet of
flame rose half way to the ceiling. The
silken hoods round us rustled like q
field Of barley in a breeze. The Bishop,
In a robe of cream and gold and GRIM
son, his mitre high above the congre-
CATION, took in his arms a figure OF
the Infant Christ on q crimson cushion.
Followed by his train, he walked slowly
around the church, while a low can
ticle, wild no longer, but deep and
grave and very touching, rose from all