Page:Pacific Monthly volumes 9 and 10.djvu/77



Read the best books first, or you may not have a chance to read them at all.—Henry D. Thoreau.

A Foreword

With the beginning of the New Year, and the opening of a new volume, the "Reader" makes his little bow to the public — not with the purpose of creating a new department, but rather as an outgrowth of "Books," and, it may be, an improvement upon that department. The idea is to escape the conventional "book review," offering in its stead an informal discussion of such of the new books as are received from the publishers, and such other literary gossip as may be deemed of interest.

That the Reader's opinions are honest ones, goes without saying; but at the very outstart he must plead guilty to an optimism which is temperamental, and therefore incorrigible. But it is premised that when a book is pronounced "good" or "admirable," it does not mean that it is a Henry Esmond or a Middlemarch. If the standard of the masterpieces were rigorously maintained, then, in truth, but little of present-day book making would be worthy of second thought. But such greatness seems — alas! — a thing of bygone days. We have reached a new phase, with new conditions, new ideals, and the Reader feels that he is justified in considering the current literature from a modern view point, ever holding in mind the perfection of the classic as a final arbitrament.

The line from Thoreau is prefixed with the intention of suggesting the value of a discriminate selection of the books you read. If the Reader's humble estimate be of assistance to any other reader in the choice of a book, then his labor — which is no labor at all, but pure delight — will be fully rewarded.

The Two Vanrevels

The Reader feels that it is a matter for self-felicitation that he has so faultless a bit of fiction as "The Two Vanrevels" with which to introduce himself. For surely here, if never again, he is absolved from the need of harsh treatment, and justified in the tenderest expressions of admiration.

Can you imagine a blend of "The Gentleman from Indiana" and "Monsieur Beaucaire," with the stirring movement of the former and the dainty grace of the latter? If you can, it will be possible for you to conceive something of what The Two Vanrevels is like. Those who found Mr. Tarkington's maiden effort a little crude and boyish will apprehend in his latest product the finished method and the exquisite verbiage of Beaucaire. And those to whom the foreign flavor of Beaucaire failed to appeal — if there be any such — will find no such fault with The Two Vanrevels, for its American ism is beyond reproach.

The author seems enamored of the idea of mistaken identity — the masque- rade — for it figures no less prominently in The Two Vanrevels than in Mon- sieur Beaucaire. It is a device as old as the art of story-telling, but is employed in the present instance with such com- plete adroitness as to forestall anv plaint of imitation. The two Vanrevels are good fellows, both, a worthy Da- mon and Pythias. But it is Crailey Gray, "the town scamp, ne*er-do-weel, light o' love," the poet and comedian that most appeals to our sympathy. And it is in this character that the au- thor finds his best opportunity. The book is the very soul of romance; all youth and love and laughter — as beau- tiful as a song of a summer night. But there are, too, evidences of a deepening