C URRENT LITERAT EIRE.
IN SICILY, 1896, 189S, 1900.
Iii Sicily, 1896, 1898,1900. By Douglas Sladeu. With Maps and over 300 Illustrations. 2 vols. (Sands. 63s.)—The only serious draw- back to this handsome guide-book is its size. The wealth of really exquisite illustrations, chiefly from very good photographs, but some after paintings by Miss Margaret Thomas, compels a plate paper for their adequate representation ; and tho heavy paper, joined to quarto format, and a thickness of over half a thousand pages to each volume, makes the work unmanageable. One cannot hold it in the hand, and must perforce read it at a table, a way in which no book can be enjoyed. Lying on the floor one gets some flavour out of it ; and if it were set on a window-seat, like Sir Henry Lee's folio Shakespeare, it would be possible to crouch beside it and feel that it was readable. Apart from its mighty bulk, readable it certainly is. Mr. Sladen is nothing if not chatty; he is as irre- pressibly conversational as an Italian cicerone, and takes one about, shows the sights, and tells the stories like a real guide, not suffering his clients to miss a single point. He has keen eyes, and a robust sense of humour ; nothing escapes his vigilant observation, and we cannot imagine anything too trivial for notice in his compre- hensive pages. He takes his " party" for a drive about Palermo at night, and here is what he sees :— " Some of the cookshops we passed were very fascinating. Their stoves were like huge cribbage-boards, covered with fine old tiles of gorgeous colours, punched with rows of little holes filled with charcoal embers, upon which rested hammered copper vessels which would make Mr. Liberty's mouth water. The stockpans, likewise of copper, were often a yard long, though they were very flat. Above the stove would be ranges of glittering brass or copper plates and dishes, and valuable bowls of old Sicilian earthenware, which the proprietor could hardly be induced to sell. Their choice copper and earthenware form, as it were, the sign- board of the house, and you often see hanging from the ceiling brazen lamps, so old in design that they look as if they ought to be hanging in mosques. But you do not see queer foods in these brilliantly lit cookshops, which are not it must be remembered, restaurants. No food is consumed on the premises. You can get a more raking view of them on the stalls. Sicily is the land of stalls ; there are water stalls ; lemonade stalls; nut stalls ; beau stalls ; stalls for selling scents and sweets and toys, like a Japanese bazaar; stalls for selling raw beans and fennel ; stalls for selling raw or cooked artichokes ; stalls where you buy the insides of all the animal creation dipped in batter ; stalls with plumes of dried grasses, where you buy fresh flowers ; stalls where you buy soap and combs, and daggery- looking knives. When we came to the broad street which runs almost at right angles with the Corso, we found stalls in swarms. The stall which Stephan liked best of all was a sort of tin muffin- man's basket, with a stove hidden somewhere in it, and its centre a lake of seething batter. Round its edge were hung salt and pepper-boxes, and on its top tray were a few battered articles as samples. They looked appetising but smelt appalling, though I do not fancy that their smell was anything compared with their composition. They were bits of the insides of animals and fish, which looked too revolting for human food till they were con- cealed by a decent veil of batter. He kept them in another basket, and his clients, whose stomachs were sufficiently strong, would choose any kind of outran for which they had a special partiality, and have it dipped into the batter before their eyes."
This may be rather " small beer," but there is much that is
smaller, and after all there is merit in the minute detail of the picture. Those who have large enough portmanteaux will find Mr. Sladen's portly volumes useful companions in a Sicilian tour, or, better perhaps, will turn them over with pleasure on their return. He is so appreciative of all ho describes, enjoys the whole thing so heartily, and keeps up his merry mood so genially that one cannot be angry with him even when he is treading on the verge of vulgarity, or when he persists in "trotting out" the simi- larities between the Sicilians and his favourite " Japs." There is considerable skill, too, in the way he contrives to interweave the history and archaeology—which he has read up most con- scientiously—in his tale of a' tourist. At first we were rather annoyed by the addition of an American engaged couple to the dramatis personae. It looked like an imitation of Mr. Anstey's "Travelling Companions," and the Americanisms are a little trite. But after slimming a few hundred pages further we came to the conclusion that these actors, whether real or imaginary, formed useful pegs whereon to hang incidents, and helped to connect the general framework. This is not, of course, a learned work, or the work of an artist, though it is learned in brie-k-brac ; it is journalism of an ordinary type, but still brisk, amusing, and decidedly clever journalism. But we are afraid, charm he never so wisely, that Mr. Sladen's chatty word-pictures will never hold their own against his superb illustrations. The book is primarily a picture-book, and as such, at least, it will give a great deal of pleasure. It may also tempt many people to enjoy what he describes with such verve, and see the beauties of accessible and delightful Sicily.
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