A COLUMN FOR BOOKLOVERS.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2764, 19 March 1910, Page 4 (Supplement)

A COLUMN FOR BOOKLOVERS.

(By E. R.)

For a jolly good book whereon to look Ts better to me than gold.

Up to the present time Oscar Wilde’s works have been comparatively little known to the general public. An impression, entirely false, that his work was not suitable for all readers, has somewhat detracted from the reputation as an author that he deserves. The neat and -comparatively cheap edition that is now being iss'ued by Methuen and Co. is doing much to attract renewed attention to his clever plays and other interesting works. As a dramatist ho is now being compared to Congreve, whom he rivals in wit, and excels m taste. Congreve’s plays aro unfortunately no longer suitable for representation, and it is a great pity that works so witty and 1 sparkling should have to be consigned to the comparative oblivion of the library shelves. But there is no bar of this kind to the production of any of Oscar Wilde’s clever comedies. Among them arc “The Importance of Being Earnest” and “Lady Windormer’s Fan,” which are well known to New Zealand play-goers. To many, however. “De Profundis,” and some of the poems, notably “The Ballad of Reading Gaol,” appeal far more strongly. “De Profundis” is well named, and is an extraordinary book. It is no uncommon thing to hear it condemned as a piece of unmatched hypocrisy—a mock repentance. Those, who thus condemn jt must surely admit that they are biassed by tlie notoriety of Wilde’s career as a criminal. To most of us it is the genuine cry of a broken and con. tute heart, and if published anonymously, would have undoubtedly been recognised as such. Its simplicity and straight-forwardness gave it all the greater force, and its pathos is overwhelming. “The Ballad of Reading Gaol” can be read by no one unmoved. For giving us the atmosphere of sheer horror and terror that must haunt the prison on the eve of an execution it could not be equalled. The language is simole. almost rough, and splendidly graphic. Horror and misery and hopeless despair, the repulsion that must overwhelm a prisoner who is gently born and bred, breathe in every line of it. The other poems are not of equal merit, the longer ones being too much like imitations of Swinburne, but they prove that the genuine poetic spirit was part of Wilde’s strange nature. As typical examples of his style here are. a few verses of “The Ballad,” and a short poem in his gentler style:—

Yet each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard; Some do it with a bitter look, . Some- with a flattering word — The coward does it with a kiss. The brave man with a sword! Some kill their love when they are young, And some when they are old ; Some strangle with the hands of lust, Some with hands of gold: The kindest use a knife, because The deed soon grows cold. Some love too little, some too long, Some sell and others buy ; Some do the deed with many teal's, And some without a sigh: For each kills the thing he loves, Yet each man does not die. From “The Ballad of Reading Gael.” REQUIESCAT. Tread lightly, she is near Under the snow. Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew - She was a woman, so . Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone — She is at rest.

.Peace! Peace! She cannot hear Lyre or sonnet. All my life’s buried here — Heap earth upon it.

‘‘Granite”—John Trevena. (London: Alston Rivers. Gisborne: Thomas Adams.) Ibis is the third volume of a trilogy, “Heather” and “Furze” being the two preceding volumes. It would certainly be a heavy task" to read through the three consecutively, but-taken at intervals they form a very interesting series. The author has taken the three outstanding features of Dartmoor, heather, the. all-pervading and clinging, furze, the cruel, and granite, the strong and enduring, all primeval and alt lasting while the moor shall last, and with each as a central motive has. drawn n sombre, terrible future of the lives of Dart, moor people. It is really an ugly picture, and if the state of things depicted in the three books is really true to life, then it is hard to believe that sudh conditions of life can continue to exist in a civilised country. It would be easier and preferable to believe tliat the author, with a view to emphasis, has considerably exaggerated the worst de_ tails. In contrast with tlie ugliness and squalor of most of the incident*, and characters, the beauty and mystery of Dartmoor scenery stands out very prominently, and is beautifully described. On the whole these three books are very enjoyable, and, taken as a picture of the. worst side of human nature, drawn in a spirit of decided pessimism, cannot but be read with interest, if not with approval. “Michael Tliwaites’ Wife” —Miriam Muhleson. (New York: Doubleday, Page, and Co. Gisborne: Thomas Adams.) Miriam Michelson has already written one or two clever stories, notably In The Bishop’s ''Carriage,” and her new book is as clever as' its predecessors. The ending is, perhaps, weak, but this in no way detracts from the interest of the plot. There is a very interesting question with- regard to the likeness or unlikeness of character and disposition. found in twine. this is 001tainly not a new subject, but it is treated in a very bright and novel way, and no one can fail to be interested in the way it is worked out. Anyone wbo is looking for a really clever, interesting book that is neither too heavy nor too trifling in style and subject, could not do better than read Michael Thwaites’ Wife.” There is nothing morbid, mystic, or improbable about trie book, but it keeps the reader’s interest from beginning to end —a result not ai_ ways achieved by much more ambitious sjvorks.