Judge — August 14, 1920 — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

to em, coma nee oe a Droen by Henwax Pat wen Two Clays and a Real Bird By Benjamin De Casseres T Arizona Boow-Line AS it ever h pening a book at any f ppened to you? answer a qu qu flesh thrill, I had just finished comparing notes on home-brew with a neighbor and opened willy-nilly, so to speak, “The Fruit of the Desert,” by Richard Barry (Doubleday, Page & Co.), at chap- ter XXI, headed “The Venerable Oyster.” how the Indian Sunnites, in the ‘The opening page tell na desert, prepared a “life eiving elixir. heels in it. It was made under the supervision of the tribe and doled out in a booze-line, which Mr. Barry believes (and I second the tion’s bread line. Mr. Barry's hero, Ranor Gaul, is looking for health out West. He stumbles into a mysterious tribe of Indians called the Sunnites be- cause they worship the Big Radiator out there in space that requires no janitor, apparently, to look after its fires. These Sunnites have escaped the whites and never heard of General Leonard Wood, Ein- stein or the League of Nations. jon) is superior to civiliza- Ranor falls in love with the Sun-Priestess, who is, according to her picture on the jacket, Some Damozel. ‘This busts the Eighteenth Amendment, or so, of the § nd Ranor makes a getaway with her to civilization, ‘The priests follow him for bottlegging a nnites, goddess, I cannot tell you more of this fascinating book, because I do not believe it is the province of a book reviewer to stop the sale of a book it if it is a corking good one, c. Buy it and read it. by telling you its contents, but to pu and Mr. Barry has writte a really fine It has wings. The Green Bag and the Rooster d grasshopper in the sub- turns down a poem of EYE RY mine, or th et floors!"? I dream of turning fa: n bed with the chickens ¢ the robin c ¢ bathtub when it 6. instead of throwing it in your c rps on ge of the pigsty; to pitch the hay to chase the bull acre ws that’s real fun!’ Why work when you can farm? Anyhow that's the questic t the hero of Judge Henry A Shute’s “The Real Diary of t 1” asked himself. He was a business man, and he believed he could leave “business” behind rst Farm when he went farming. 4 But there are more troubles on a farm than were ever dreamed of in the philosophy of this Business Man. When he was tired of rais hell he took to rs But he found th the same. ‘The book is in the form of a diary, a farmer will delight in every page of th t fa moral serpents on medy of adventures of the wot mer that s seen since Adam, who couldn't even rai s little plot of real estate down Eden way Jud supersedeas, the rooster a caveat and the blackbieds filed an injunc- tion on his appearance. Our lawyer was kicked all over Nature's lot by her lords —to the mirth of the farmhands and the readers of this book. Shute’s business man was a lawyer, but the cow put in a A Real Ghost AFTER the war the psychological novel went into the discard. “™ In our reading we tried to get away as far as possible from reality. In fiction we sought the extravaga , the impossible. We gave the Soul, the Ideal and the emotional clam But it is a good thing to read a serious bit of psychological fiction » the biza -diggers a vacation. ¢ once in a while, just keep the psyche balanced. All play and no thought makes Jack an intellectual lounge-lizard S nd,” by Clemence Dane (Macmillan & Co.). s book was call of the few bits of original fiction of the season by the best reviewers in America. After reading every line of it I can say, “Put me in w rus of Approval.” “Legend cocktail nor dessert; it is solid meat, and something you will digest to the last mi > there is is neither orsel. ut she is, neverthe- Madala Grey is dead when the book opens, jess, the heroine of the book. She was a novelist and a mysteric re all at sea when she goes Over The ds abc to dig out the m woman to her friends. Th and th her. of her love- book consists of endless conversation among her frie t indalize her, defend her and tr They sc ysteries like a ghost. s. Her personality hovers over th ‘There is one such person in all « ing, myste after he or Maybe the “imm + lives—some curious, fascinat- and dreams | s being who lingers it has Gone Home rtality” of Madala C we shall ever enjoy—to become a legend those we leave behind, The reader will come to love Madala and reverence her. She is reconstructed out of the tittle-tattle and word-battles of her “friends” with a vividness and an art that stamp Clemence Dane one of the few women who can write big things. “Legend” is a Koh-i-noor in a tiara of paste and rhine our mem ly immortality and actions of tone fiction. comicbooks.com