Short Reviews: Books

Twelve brief book reviews

The Book Of Imaginary Beings, by Jorge Luis Borges. Dutton, $6.95.
Mr. Borges takes a sweeping, inquisitive, sympathetic view of monsters, whether grand international antiquities like dragons or recent inventions of Franz Kafka, a man with a fine touch in ambiguous domesticated presences. No sweeping conclusions are offered, but the text, translated by Norman Thomas di Giovanni in collaboration with the author, sparkles with oblique humor and unpredictable insights.
Caldron Cookery, by Marcello Truzzi. Meredith, $3.95.
Author and publisher “would prefer not to be held responsible for any results obtained" by the application of these recipes. Understandably, since the method presented for raising the devil includes no instructions for getting rid of him.
Sailing to Byzantium, by Osbert Lancaster. Gambit,$11.95.
Mr. Lancaster assumes on the part of the reader a serious interest in the history of Byzantine architecture and a willingness to view it even under awkward conditions. Granted these two far from universal qualities, the book is most useful, being learned, wittily written, ant! illustrated with the author’s deft, lucid drawings.
Lovey Childs, by John O’Hara. Random House, $5.95.
Lovey has useless parents and no great intelligence, which naturally leads to social and erotic misadventure. Despite a succession of gaudy soap opera incidents, the prevailing tone of the novel is, perhaps because of the Philadelphia setting, Quaker gray.
Parlour Poetry, selected and edited by Michael R. Turner. Viking, $8.95.
“A casquet of gems” retrieved from the days when people were addicted to elocution in the Turkish corner. Mr. Turner provides an arch introduction and brisk, practical notes. He has also taken pains to include all the familiar headlands like “Casablanca” and “Casey at the Bat,” leaving the wilder shores of Victorian verse unmapped. Timid camp is not very amusing.
Second Breath, by Jan Benes. Orion, $5.95.
The Czechoslovakian author drew on personal experience for this novel about prison life. The book is impressive for the courage required to write and offer for publication (denied, of course) a criticism of Communist administration rather than for any political or psychological revelations.
Unpublished Correspondence of Henri De Toulouse-Lautrec, edited by Lucien Goldschmidt and Herbert Schinnnel, with an introduction and notes by Jean Adhémar and Theodore Reff. Phaidon, $10.00.
A lot of cooks for one pot of broth. Most of these letters have been previously unpublished because they are Lautrec’s deliberately childish, dutiful, flattering family prattle; he was an endearingly persistent sender of love and kisses to elderly female relatives, and almost certainly meant every word of it, but this sort of thing does not make for varied or exciting reading. The French text (small print in the back pages), however, reveals Lautrec as a giddy inventor of words and an amusing devotee of English and Gascon interpolations. There are also some letters from the old retainer that his mother sent to keep an eye on the painter during his last disastrous weeks in Paris, and these provide a vivid, terrifying view of Lautrec’s drunken last-ditch battle against despair. There is valuable information in this formidably annotated book, but it remains, on the whole, one for the specialist rather than the general reader.
The Very Best English Goods, Praeger, $18.50.
In 1871 some British Army officers, incensed by the size of their mess bills, went shares on a case of port. This trifling economy led to the Army and Navy Stores, a vast cooperative society holding dominion over palm and pine in the matter of wanes, plus croquet sets, mustache wax, lampshades, tea gowns, wicker furniture, morocco bindings, billiard tables, toys, portable organs, and naturally, saddlery, cork legs, binoculars, firearms, and medicine chests. The mail-order catalogue for 1907, reproduced in facsimile, is endlessly fascinating and guaranteed to arouse nostalgia or hilarious incredulity, depending on the age and experience of the reader.
Notes on a Cowardly Lion, by John Lahr. Knopf, $7.95.
One hardly expects a biography of Bert Lahr to look as large and earnest as a life of Napoleon, but it does and, it turns out, with reason. Lahr’s progress from burlesque to musical comedy to Hollywood to Waiting for Godot spanned the whole range of contemporary theater, and that, in fact, is the book’s subject and importance—a career that included everything, described by an author who is a theatrical critic as well as Lahr’s son, and therefore equipped to balance personal and public theatrical history.
Casanova, by John Masters. Bernard Geis, $15.00.
Purists can read Casanova himself—in seven volumes, since he lived to a vast age with his powers of memory, and possibly invention, unimpaired. Mr. Masters has been extremely clever in condensing the amusing old rogue’s memoirs into one prettily illustrated volume for the nonpurist.
The Epiplectic Bicycle, by Edward Gorey. Dodd, Mead, $3.00.
Embley and Yewbert meet a large black bird which says, “Beware of this and that.” Who but Mr. Gorey could reduce the intellect, character, and philosophy of the late twentieth century to five words? Who else would try
American Painting, by Jules David Prown and Barbara Rose. World, $50.00 first edition; $60.00 thereafter.
A boxed two-volume history of American painting, beautifully illustrated. Mr. Prown covers the subject from anonymous beginnings to the Armory show, with discussion of influences and techniques, anecdotes about painters, and lively bits of history thrown in. Miss Rose, dealing with everything since 1914, has such a whirligig of schools and counter schools, groups and splinter groups to contend with that she can do little more than list painters and describe, summarily, their styles and theories. Neither author displays any interest in aesthetic controversy: these handsome books provide practical history, not debate upon relative merit.