Evening star., 1939-01-01
Bv Mary.Carfer Roberts.

Ollu ICVlCNCl, AASA
records, found that during the pre-
ceding tWelvemonth she had men
toned works by most imposing ar
ray of prominent writer's and that
about these works she had virtually
nothing to say. In other words, 1887
as literary year was distinguished
chiefly by great quantity OF pot
boilers written by men and women
who ought to write better. Some
how, whether by reason of the stars
or for other causes, there was that
year a most general tagging of gen.
ius and an equally general outbreak
of energy. From Sigrid Undset to
Edna Ferber the prominent writer's
wrote. but said little. 1t is relief
to be able to report that 1888 has
been somewhat more productive of
memorable books, even though the
famous and the great have produced
much less generally.
Indeed, 1888 is, from the fiction
standpoint alone, a good year. There
have been no less than three fine
novels produced in its days, and one
fineness. The reviewer should say,
however, that she does not expect
any other critic in the United States
to list these four books as she lists
them. None of them were best
sellers; it is even the reviewers un-
derstanding that none of them sold
at all, in the proflt-brlnging sense
Yet all of them belong in the tradi-
ton of the great novel. The re-
viewer is proud to put her own name
behind their unqualified praise.
They are as follows: The Noun
tains and the Stars" by Valentin
Tikhonov, published by Little, Brown
& Co.: Death on the Installment
Plan" by Ferdinand Celine,
published by Little, Brown e. Co.,
and "A Woman Screamed" by Rob-
ert Neumann. published by the Dial
Press. The fourth of the group,
which the reviewer rates a trife be-
low the three others, is Residential
Quarter" by Louis Aragon, pub
hshed by Harcourt. Brace & Co.
None of these. it will be noted, is
by an American author. Only one.
The Mountain and the Stars has
been written in English, the others
being translations.
THE Mountain and the Stars"
published last June, is superb
thing. 1t is, specifically, a personal
record of the movements of the
Cossack army of Baron Ungern-
Sternberg tthe bloody baron'D as
that army retreated from the Russia
OF the revolution and followed it's
fanatic leader into Central Asia,
back-tracking on the trail of Gen.
ghls Khan, whose reincarnation the
baron believed himself to be- The
author was part of this wild march.
Under his own name he figures in
the novel as the baron's adjutant.
Superfiicially, again, the book can
be called splendid savage epic, the
story of an army of men whose con-
cept of life included but one piece
OF knowledge, and who, in that one
piece Of knowledge, were superb
the knowledge of fighting. And
that, you must understand, did not
mean mechanical fighting either,
but hand-to-hand encounters, cav
airy charges, pitched battles. the
storming of towns, looting, rapine,
cruelty, treachery, brutality and the
most magnificent courage. The
novel indeed has no single hero; its
hero is the Cossack army.
In its large composition it presents
an unforgettable picture of that body
of men, following their leader they
knew not nor cared not where,
sweeping into strange lost coun-
try, occupying themselves with but
one thought, and that-where would
they next engage battle? Not who
would the enemy be, or what the
reason for the fight but simply when
and where the fight would begin.
:. And in its smaller detail the
book is equally fine in drawing the
character of the individual Cossack
warrior. Brute though he was, this
fellow was also man. and the book
delineates his loW-order humanity
with a sort of humorous love, merci-
lessly, yet with affection, as if the
author had loved his subject for the
excellent model which he was.
But, as has been said, these as
poets of the book are superficial
ones The profundity of the story
lies in the picture which it gives of
mans raw material and his poten-
tialities. The Cossack, it tells us. is
ourselves, stripped of a few CEN
turies' Misunderstood refinements.
The Cossack was ignorant. cruel and
brutal: he was also brave, faithful to
his particular idols, sentimental and
affectionate to his friends. What
then are we? At our worst we are
ignorant cruel and brutal and at
our best we are brave, faithful,
sentimental and capable of affec-
ton. Look at man. then. says this
book. What piece of work he is, to
be sure.
This novel, the reviewer repeats.
had no particular success, and, If
any reader of these columns be
tempted helatedly to buy it, he is
warned that it is not pretty little
tale. and not to be taken up for
soothing the ruffled soul. 1t is full
of accounts of revolving violence.
The reviewer had almost forgotten
this. however, for the great brooding
understanding of the authors spirit
reduces such episodes to inevitability
and. unless one lacks sense of pro-
portion, they are no more to be
dwelt upon than are the minutiae of
any truly great composition. The
reviewer hopes that some readers
will get the book. 1t deserves an in
telligent and appreciative public.
Death on the 1nstallment Plan"
Is a type of novel which, ordinarily,
the reviewer does not like. It is
mans f1ctional account of his young
years; almost every male novelist
writes such work, and almost al
ways the spirit which stands out in
the works pages is one of self-pity.