Evening star., 1939-01-22
BOOK EDITOR OPENS HER NAIL
Returns From Vacation Find Correspondents Have Busy
Member of Omnbook Staff Makes Protest; Verses
by Talented Young Writer Quoted

they are the same thing as TO say
that double entry bookkeeper and
Shakespeare have the same occupa-
ton because both use pens. Both
write, of course. Therefore are both
writers?
And the reviewer would add, griev-
Ing that she must be so harsh to Mr..
knauth'S publication when he has
been so aimiable himself, that, of all
the dlgests, the one which deals in
fiction is the worst. For. with those
that deal In informative articles
only, there is at least the justifica-
tion that they serve those seekers
for information who, in their turn,
serve them. But the digest which
cuts up work of fiction has no
such ground Of extenuation. It is
applying the shortcut method to
works which have been written &c"
delectation of the taste and the
intellect; II man had snapshots
of famous paintings run before him
on a band as he ate his breakfast,
with the end in view that he improve
his acquaintance with art, it would
be about the same thing.
So it does not matter that Omni-
book chooses works which are
popular. Indeed. the better the
books, the worse the crime of mutila-
ton. And then-again-When did
popularity become the criterion OF.
worth in literature? The public is
practically always wrong in the
books which it likes; if it does like
! good one, it likes it for the wrong
reason-for the sins within it, rather
than the merits. So the reviewer
comes back to the first sentence of
Mr.. Knauth's letter. She is not
offended at his calling her Miss, be-
cause she is Miss. The same goes
for her application of the word
digest to Omnibook.
-
A long time ago, when the re-
viewer was new come to The Star.
she was asked to act as judge in {
local poetry contest among college
students. She accepted and duly re-
ceived large sheaf of verses. Some
of them were terrible, some were
simply undergraduate and, Of these
last, the level was fairly high. But.
still they were no more than earnest
earnest copies Of the great or
earnest efforts to be free of copying
Among the whole collection the work
nf nn1 nf hn n+C
seemed to the reviewer to be marked
by real fire. The verses had been
submitted anonymously, and so the
reviewer did not know who this un-
mistakably gifted writer was. After
the voting and awarding had been
done. she took the trouble to find
out. 1t was Miss Annette Temin, a
student then at Teachers College.
So fine did Miss TENNIS WORK
seem to the reviewer that she did
what was probably unethical in a
judge-she told Miss Temin person.
ally that she thought her work the
best submitted and that she be-
lieved her to be real poet. From
that time on she did not see the
young writer again. 1t was with
pleasure then that she discovered.
in the January Poetry World two of
Miss TENNIS poems. They do not
seem to her the best of Miss Temin 5
work which she has seen. but in
them there is the remembered
f1uidity of line, the music and deep
mystic emotion. The reviewer Is 60
ing to quote the work of this talent
ed young Washingtonian whom she
discovered by such an accident.
The Wheat Fields.
Do not attempt to walk these fields
tonight.
They will not sustain you, being
river,
Being at most silent bed Of light
Your body, learning this. will fais
and quiver,
Your hand will cry for root where
there is none
And seek for earth where now Is
only rain.
Returned to water, you will lie upon
The frosty darkness in its field of
pain
AS once you were; the fish will be
your brother.
This silver planet still without a
name,
And you, intrepid child without a
mother,
Will claim the tideless channel
whence you came.
The fallen spirits lie where they
have left
The shelter Of the road, and,
f1oundering deep
Across the moon washed yellow
fields, bereft
OF hope for finding home, gone
down to sleep ;.
Here where the wheat has grown.
the seeding bloomed.
Beware to set your foot, o change
full ghost.
Lest in the infinite your flesh be
doomed,
The soul dismantled and the body
lost;
And here not land but water, every
where
The sweeping Of the sea. and far
and wide
The maiden leaning with her yellow
hair
Across the swell upon her yellow
side
And lifting darkly in unblemished
motion
Like summer swallows from the
barren tree,
At last arisen from the cosmic
ocean.
The tawny child, submerged pri-
mevally.
Song.
What words your lips may utter In
betraying
The older language OF your heart
Will pass like water even In your
saying