Women
by . New York: Doubleday, Page and Company. 8vo. x+ 415 pp. $2.00.
IN a little Preamble we are told how, after Mrs. Cromwell had read a paper before the Women’s Saturday Club, on ‘Women as Revealed in Modern Literature,’ Mrs. Dodge challenged the main contention of the paper, that ‘in the novel a study of women must have a central theme, must focus upon a central figure or “heroine,” must present her as a principal participant in a centralized conflict or drama of some sort.’ Mrs. Dodge’s objection was that the lives of average, ‘nice’ women seldom exhibit such conflicts or dramas. ‘Our lives,’ said she, ‘seem to be made up of apparently haphazard episodes ... to consist principally of our thoughts and doings in relation to our children and neighbors.’ Mrs. Cromwell mentioned husbands. ‘I would have husbands and suitors,’ replied Mrs. Dodge, ‘represented in their proper proportion.’
The Preamble was, no doubt, written after the rest of the book, as a humorous apology. For Women has nine full-fledged plots (as Mrs. Cromwell defines plots), set, not parallel, but end-to-end; and the only thing that binds them together is the presence of either Mrs. Dodge or Mrs. Cromwell, sometimes in the field of action, but as a rule in the remote offing. Husbands and suitors are represented decidedly ‘in their proper proportion,’ usually exasperating or humble creatures, who serve as agitating rather than as directing forces in the lives of the ladies. The latter pursue their ends with an absorption and a finesse that leave the male members of the community bewildered if not stupefied. As between husbands and suitors, it is worthy of record that the husbands are emphatically the more negligible.
Of the nine stories told, the one about Mrs. Dodge’s neighbor who is overheard by Mrs. Dodge addressing a tender sentiment to the chauffeur is the finest comedy. Mrs. Dodge distinctly hears her say, ‘Rosemary, that’s for remembrance, darling,’ and the neighbor, Mrs. Braithwait, knows that Mrs. Dodge has heard it. The resultant action makes up one of the best stories, I think, that Mr. Tarkington has written. Less subtle and more in the vein of Gentle Julia, but still delightful, is the account of how Mrs. Cromwell’s youngest, Cornelia, aged sixteen, falls in love with her English teacher, Mr. Bromley, aged forty. Cornelia is an older Florence Atwood — intense, imaginative, overpowering in her singleness of purpose, and yet innocent and likable. She is perhaps the best example in this book of those humorous creations in which the author is most original — children who do preposterous things in so natural a way that we feel that they are more actual than life itself.
As a humorist Mr. Tarkington seldom fails, and at times, as in the chapter in which Mrs. Dodge declines to tell her husband what she has heard Mrs. Braithwait say to the chauffeur, he is masterly. But when he has a serious story to tell, as in the ‘Wall Flower’ here, he may be, to put it mildly, less successful. This particular story, after an excellent opening, bears a disconcerting resemblance to the kind of story a freshman in a woman’s college might be conceived as writing. But it would be ill-natured to make much of a lapse in a book so full of entertainment and of knowledge. For Women is not only rich in excellent comedy. It is highly instructive and is especially to be recommended to husbands and parents. As for wives, they will probably consider it satirical and may, as Mrs. Dodge hints in the Preamble, need a little placating.
R. M. GAY