Vol. VI No. 1 - Modernist Magazines Project

THE BOOKSHELF
who dp not know. The history of blood and tears which is war is the history
of all time. But in 1914 we had no inherited memory which made us realise the
horrors to which we so merrily marched away with songs upon our lips and
courage and fear in our hearts.
Mr. Mottram reminds us that it is ten years since the Armistice. It might
as well be ten thousand.
ACTION. By C. E. MONTAGUE. (Chatto and Windus).
The author of this book did not live to see it published, and it may be the
last volume of his work we shall ever read. By his death we lost a great journalist
who kept his work free from the stains that now almost everywhere
disfigure the daily and weekly press, and an author who raised the essay and
the short story to the highest level in contemporary work.
Mr. Montague was perhaps at his best in the short story. He did not use
this medium in any conventional sense. Plots, as such, are hardly to be found
in any of his tales. One of the greatest of all his stories, "Honours Easy," in
"Fiery Particles," is no more than an essay in irony—yet it is in every respect
a story.
Of his works "A Hind Let Loose" and "Rough Justice," much the same
'may be said—they are not the novels we are accustomed to—but how
satisfying they are for all who love good writing—style coloured and made
alive with thought.
An austere beauty lies over all Mr. Montague's work—a beauty which
sets it apart from the work of almost all his contemporaries. In all his work
the style is the man, and those who know anything of modern literature know
how few authors there are of whom this may be said in the sense of high
praise.
In this book of short stories Mr. Montague is not consistently at his best;
there is a marked variation in quality. One expects so much from the author
that the least drop in his high standard reveals itself at once. For example
the story, "A Cock and Bull Story" (perhaps because it is about the war)
lacks Mr. Montague's sure grip of his subpect, and gives the impression of
something remembered which he finds himself suddenly called upon to mould
into a story. Here is a tale that did not impel itself to be written, and because
of the author's particular style, it does not hold the reader. "Judith," on the
other hand, which is one of the best stories in the book, shows Mr. Montague
writing straight from the heart to the heart. We can all understand this
exquisite short story and those of us who knew more about the war than was
good for us will understand it much too poignantly. "Wodjabet," too, is a tale
giving us the author at his best.
But one of the most moving stories in this volume is "Didn't Take Care
of Himself," which does not deal with the war. On the depiction of the chief
character in this story Mr. Montague has lavished all his knowledge of
humanity and of the curious ways of men's hearts. The man in the story is
just one of those queer people who are utterly unselfish—one whom Mr.
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