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Non-Fictional
Prose
by
Charles G.D. Roberts
Edited
by D.M.R. Bentley and Laurel Boone
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THE
WORLD OF BOOKS: Two New Novels*
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Among
the almost innumerable novels which crowd the
reviewer’s desk, it is rare to find one which
calls for more than passing notice. So ephemeral
are they, as a rule, that almost before the ink
is dry on the review their day is sped. But here
and there appears a work which seems to contain
an element of permanency—some inherent virtue
of force, of insight, or of pure beauty, which
may prevail to keep it from the dust of the upper
shelves. Two such works are those which I have
before me. Utterly unlike in almost all respects,
they have this in common, that they are books
to be taken seriously. They cannot be ignored.
The
Truth About Tristrem Varick has
been the subject of hot discussion, and has been
treated to much of a certain kind of censure,
which must have greatly assisted its sales. With
a wise regard to that human weakness which makes
forbidden fruit ever attractive, the published
have taken care that their advertisements of this
novel should suggest the spice of naughtiness
which it contains, and, acting on the hint, the
critics have saved themselves much trouble by
devoting their notice mainly to this feature.
I cannot but think that in this respect the book
must have disappointed many purchasers. Those
who were looking for realistic descriptions after
the painful style of M. Zola, and those who thought
to find such senuous imaginings as those of M.
Maupassant or Theophile Gautier, alike must have
regretted their half dollar. The story is of another
type than these; and though the plot turns on
a hideous crime, the crime itself is not brought
under the analyst’s microscope, nor is there much
inducement offered to any emulation of the crime.
Pessimistic the author intends that his work shall
be, but in spite of himself it is not wholly so.
The hero is disillusioned, if ever a man was,
but the reader does not find himself of necessity
in a like case. The purity, the sincerity, the
singleness of purpose of the hero furnish an antidote
to the horrors of the climax, and against the
surroundings which Mr. Saltus paints for us the
one villainy stands out as a monstrous and almost
unbelievable exception. As a piece of art the
story demands unstinted commendation. The construction
of the plot is altogether admirable, for unity,
for ingenuity, for compactness. As for the style,
it is exquisite. Mr. Saltus has a love of absolute
beauty for its own sake which gives his prose
an enduring fascination. He has a singular freshness
in his epithets, and his rhythms are new and charming.
To match the beauty of English in his paraphrase
from Flaubert—the dialogue between the Sphinx
and the Chimaera—one would have to search
far indeed. These two or three pages have a loveliness
which I do not think it rash to call imperishable.
Mrs.
Deland’s book is important because it voices a
feeling which occupies at the present many hearts.
The plot is the reverse of elaborate, though many
may regard it as improbable. The whole story hinges
on the question of eternal condemnation. John
Ward, preacher to the straightest sect of the
Presbyterians, is character of extreme nobility,
much narrowness, and inexorable logic. He takes
to himself a wife who is all that a woman should
be or could be. This wife fails to reconcile the
omnipotence and omniscience of a benevolent Deity
with an eternity of agony for those dying in their
sins. Hence follows—what I would advise
my readers to find out for themselves as soon
as possible. The heroine, John Ward’s wife, speaks
for a vast constituency, and she speaks with burning
earnestness and unimpeachable sincerity. Herein
lies the power and interest of the work. |
"The
World of Books: Two New Novels," Progress
1:15 (Saint John, N.B.), 11 August 1888,
6 [back]
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