There are some good things in Mr. Kenneth Hare's book
on London's Latin Quarter (Bodley Head, 15s.). But there are also some stupid stories and an occasional slicing-off of nar- rative at the most interesting part, which produces—to use a phrase of the author's—an " oddly fatiguing " effect. For instance, returning unexpectedly from the Continent, the author discovers a girl in the bath of his Chelsea moms. His
comment Her figure was Praxitelean and her blush a fairy tale." He bowed himself out—yes, but if this is a story it needs more telling. Yet, on the whole, the book is amusing. Epstein, Gilbert Frankau and Augustus John flit through the pages without, however, saying anything remarkable.
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