Judge — October 18, 1930 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

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Get yours, now—and give the one you win for a smart prize. the makers of the Parker Duofeld—Guaranteed for Life—Pen THE PARKER PEN COMPANY Janesville, Wisconsin arker | bly 1 PENS PENCILS DESK BASES ; mund Wilsoi R« enTLY a little series of weightier hooks appeared with titles like “Appendicitis or the Future of Gre Restaurants,” the idea being to let a lot of professors get off a lot of fan- ciful ideas about the future of what the Columt freshmen call “I The thing was wide a clever lampoon and we were prised that it took as long to appear as it has. So we have “Whither, Whither, or After Sex What?" which symposium on the professorial guff. Unfortunately, urticle called “Ge ture of Literary Criticism.” by the rest. of a screamingly funny from mediocre itself. Wilson's zy masterpiece, and as worth r= ing.” open for sur- is a side from one onzola or the Fu- Ed what is supposed to b burlesque, ranges plain 1 piece the cleverer bookwormers say, the price of the book, Ox the convenient other hand, there is Corey John Riddell Ford's col- lection of his Vanity Fair parodies sewn together in a grand parody on Philo Vance—parodics within a par- ody, if you get what we mean. We cannot say that we cared much for the Philo Vance framework—it grew repetitious and tenuous, and, after a while, stupid—but, we a derby to Master Ford for the short picces. Tully, O'Brien and Hallibur- ton fall pleasingly beneath the scalpel of our Ace Literary Surgeon. raise Dreiser, 7uy the when vte in breathlessness in the Rosamond Lehmann's “A Music” dragged from the weary presses is beyond us. Thou- sands of middle-aged wives who live alimony in apartment | d the bookstore steps w: rg for the first crack at it via the lend- library. Some even forgot them- nxiety to buy a copy. Stenogs, phone girls, sentimental hard- drinking models and certain types of men read it, discussed it and walked the streets for days after in a sort of haze set on by its sour melancholy For “A Note in Music” is one of those books in which everyone as behind bleating of th things they once were before marriage set into their bones, developing ex- treme cases of dreariness, aimlessness and the dry snuffes. The women here- in have large brooding dispositions, being married in the British beef- ng babbittry. Even the presuma- thy ¢: involved, Miller, at whom futile passes are made by a futile wife, is about as lively and full of the old harry as a forts els ing selves in their moves a veil, ure one 26 old burlesque queen, There is a bit of acute observation here and there. but it is as an uncertain flicker in abandoned tunnel. Curiously, the book. fell from our listless f rs instant we got a desire to rush out and drown a couple lest we be drowned by the Blueness of It All W = are so completely overwhelmed with gratitude to one Milt Gross, a little Bronx Boy Who Made Good and who may possibly change the fax of the literary world, we don’t know what to do. It is of thos: sinking feelings of ‘helpless pleasure which does not allow for dancing in the strects, flinging hats whooping about. Milt has bro forth a book called “He Done Her Wrong,” or the Boon of the Ages—at least for book erities. For, miracle of miracles, it doesn’t contain words! It’s all done in pictures. you saps! Just think of the relief te those of us who have read ourselves keyed and would just as soon open fresh book by Galsworthy toss off a cup of quinine, And what « story this is—one of those things about Virtue and Desperate Desmonds Lovely, Swooning Dumb Heroines Milt shows a tendency to pad a littl: —but the main idea is there:—word less novels for a world that is readin itself numb! Come to dinner night, Milt. Bring mama and pap: ! very just one around any a nice some Millin is a authoress Gertrude casy-writing art Sarah capable, goes without saying, but that we can sit and read her by the ah of another c. We only a mild © for novels of home life in about equal to our er: novels about home life in Jersey And Mile. Millin is forever writi about South Africa, in the style of last 3 Her newest is “Adam's Rest,” a family history, re counting all those vital statistics se dear to rocker conversationalists. It certain fusty sentimen but hour is have outh ar’s novel, too such things do enough to work up a stew over. It sports one of those Edith Wharton heroines so dear to lady and so popular back in 191¢ Unwilling to Be Touched by of Life. She was as attractive to us as a Barnard hussy. Thru the back ground runs a chocolate-colored fam souvenirs of the white man’s fancy. Had Miss Millin confined her self to them completely and worked up a volcanic black-and-white novel she might have had something. —Tep Sutant not writers one who is the Fires comicbooks.com