TIMES AND PLACES

A Flying Start : A Memory of the Nineteen Twenties. By Rene MacColl. (Cape. 8s. 6d.) The Sheltering Tree : An Autobiography. By Netta Syrett. (Bles. los. 6d.)

Indian Ink. By Philip Steegman, with a foreword by Sir Hugh Walpole. (Cobden Sanderson. ros. 6d.).

A Flying Start is an immensely amusing autobiography, which takes its author to the age of thirty-four. It is gay, hearty, critical and well put together. For some tastes the jauntiness is perhaps a trifle overworked. To make up for this the book is full of incident and minor characters, and Mr. MacColl never finds it necessary—in the manner of some auto- biographers—to elaborate his own personality when the narra- tive wears thin. In his sub-title he calls his work "A Memory of the Nineteen Twenties "; it should be read by all who feel some regret for those fleeting years.

Although the book is by no means entirely occupied with the doings of the late Van-Lear Black, the eccentric American millionaire whose secretary Mr. MacColl became, Black's per- sonality is so well described that he cannot fail to dominate the scene. His parties, his tips, his habit of speaking in riddles (" I believe I've still got a couple of clean shirts some- where, Mister," was all he would say to an M.P. who had been trying for twenty minutes to discover whether the dinner invitation he had issued was accepted or refused), his curious requests (" Ask Aimee [Macpherson] if true she started life as barker in circus side-show," one of his telegrams ran), and, above all, his zest for amusing himself in his own way are all beautifully conveyed. Black developed a passion for flying, and his secretary went with him to South Africa, to Japan, and all over Europe.

Mr. MacColl also visited the United States, where he worked as a reporter ; and later he was sent to India as special correspondent of a London paper. He has plenty to say about both of these experiences. On the return journey from India occurred the incident between Mr. Brown and Sir Harrogate Leamington, which is one of the best things in the book. Every boat seems to have a Sir Harrogate Leamington on board ; it is a pity there are so few Mr. Browns. Mr. MacColl's account of their shattering scene together is masterly. A Flying Start is a breath of badly needed fresh air in an atmosphere overloaded with international politics.

With The Sheltering Tree the background changes con:- siderably. Miss Netta Syrett has written a number of novels, known well many distinguished people, and she holds strong views on most subjects. As a young writer she contributed to The Yellow Book and was familiar with the circle of authors and artists whose work filled that famous periodical. Coming of an enlightened family, she is anxious to show that the " Woman's Movement " was well on its feet by the

'nineties, and that a girl's life at that time was not necessarily restricted. But does anyone who has given a moment's serious thought to this auestion suppose that it was? Miss Syrett becomes a trifle ruffled on the subject, and, indeed, with regard

to the attitude generally of " The Younger Generation," who threaten at moments to become something of a King Charles's Head to her. However, when she sends these bees buzzing off about their business she has some interesting things to say and some good stories :

"Do you think many working people will make use of this divorce business if it becomes law " I asked a maid when there was talk of legal help for the poor, in that connection. "Everyone in our street !" she returned cheerfully.

There is much to be said for the methods of Miss Syrett's brother, who at the age of six, instead of making a list of Christmas presents he wanted, wrote those to be avoided :

" The Holly Bibbel. Litel Arthur's Play Jography, Bokes about Animals . . . If anny one gives me anny of these I shall destroi them."

Some reviewers would be tempted to add to this list on

their own behalf All Books about Russia. It says something for In Search of Soviet Gold that in spite of a style that corn-• bins the absolute literary artlessness of the engineer with a certain amount of gingering up by a newspaperman, the book remains readable. Mr. Littlepage was an Alaskan mining

engineer who was invited by the Soviet to undertake the development of their Gold Trust. In Russia from 1928 to 1937, he is said to have been largely instrumental in causing the U.S.S.R. to rise to second place in world production of gold. He received the Order of the Red Banner for his services ; but from first to last he took no part in politics, a subject in which he seems to take little interest.

Mr. Littlepage points out that there have been two Russian revolutions. The first took place in 1957 and swept away the Tsar, the aristocracy, landed proprietorship on a large scale, and big business ; the second in 1929—and Mr. Littlepage thinks the more savage of the two—was directed against that amorphous class " the kulaks " and everybody who, for one reason or another, was not a factory worker or a Government official. One of these latter processes, which Mr. Littlepage had an opportunity to observe at close range, was the " denomadisation " of the Asiatic races—that is to say, the forcing of tribes, who had lived for generations by their flocks and herds, to become an urban proletariat. Mr. Littlepage experienced to the full the fabulous incompetence of the Russian bureaucracy. He makes some interesting comments on sabotage, the trials for which he considers to be, on the whole, perfectly genuine. He produces evidence of sabotage that he himself investigated and which he believes to be the work of the " Outs " among the Communists themselves. He also shows how in the Soviet, as much as elsewhere, " when people find gold they can get what they want."

It was this same idea of seeking gold that took Mr. Philip Steegman to India. The precious metal was to come in his case from the Rajahs whose portraits he proposed to paint. At first there were difficulties in the way and explanations had to be given that an abyss yawned between even the highest form of photography and the painted canvas. In the course of time, however, these difficulties were overcome and a number of portraits were painted in a number of native States. The author of Indian Ink was in the East for about two years, and he had plenty of odd experiences with every variety of the population, white and coloured. Considering the word-picture he draws of himself—which, rightly or wrongly, suggests a figure that cannot have been too sym-

pathetic to some of the Empire-builders with whom he came in contact—he shows himself sometimes a little severe to people whose worst crime was a lack of imagination. His book is at times a trifle diffuse. Sir Hugh Walpole, in his foreword, compares Mr. Steegman to Mrs. Flora Annie Steel.

ANTHONY POWELL.