As far as publicity is concerned authors may be divided into two classes, those who go in for publicity and those who don't. Generally speaking, writers in the latter class are as inaccessible as a Carthusian. I felt therefore, that I had achieved something when I met in Auckland recently, William Satchell, one of the most retiring of our New Zealand writers. His name has been prominently before the public as the author of that fine novel “The Greenstone Door,” and of the more recently reprinted story of the New Zealand gum country, “The Land of the Lost.” William Satchell is eighty-four years of age and he could easily pass as being a quarter of a century younger. He is small and alert; keen bright eyes peeping from a rosy apple of a face; is unassuming and is most reticent about his achievements. Extracting a story from him was something like interviewing the Sphinx. I ascertained this much. He was born in England and came to New Zealand over fifty years ago in search of health. By that time he had published his first book, “Will of the Wisp,” a collection of tales and verse. His first years in New Zealand were spent in Hokianga. His travels through the almost unbroken bush and the surrounding country gave him material for his first novel. “The Land of the Lost,” and later for “The Toll of the Bush” (to be reprinted shortly). The latter was acclaimed by the London “Daily Mail” as the best novel to appear in ten years. A year later appeared a strange fantasy, “The Elixir of Life” (Chapman & Hall). Then in 1914, a few days before the outbreak of the Great War, “The Greenstone Door” was published. With the tremendous upheaval throughout the world it was small wonder that the appearance of this novel passed almost unnoticed. For twenty years it remained dead and buried. The few copies surviving were passing from hand to hand and talk of its great merit gradually grew into an insistent demand for a reprint. The re-issue came along in 1936 and since then, in New Zealand alone, nearly 14,000 copies of it have been sold. Truly a remarkable achievement in the world of New Zealand books, where 1,000 or 2,000 sales are counted as something to boast about. And now we are expecting big sales from “The Land of the Lost” reprint which appears with the enthusiastic blessing of Lord Bledisloe who writes the introduction. Anyone who reads this fine story of the “gum rush” of the last century with its virile, racy and humorous account of the people and happenings of the period, will heartily endorse Lord Bledisloe's imprimatur.

William Satchell has also written verse. He is represented in “New Zealand Verse” (Walter Scott, 1906) in “The Bulletin Reciter” with “The Ballad of Stuttering Jim” (written under the anagram of Samuel Cliall White, and later adapted to the screen) and in 1900 published “Patriotic and Other Poems” (Brett, Auckland, 1900).

He confessed to me with a sad smile that he never took up his pen to write without a feeling of guilt. Evidently he felt that he could provide better for his large family by other more remunerative work.

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Which is the finest Australian novel yet written? Until recently 1 was convinced that “All That Swagger,” by Miles Franklin would stand for a long time and that following it closely were “A House is Built” (M. Barnard Eldershaw), “Pageant” (G. B. Lancaster), “Tiburon” (Kylie Tennant), and “Landtakers” (Brian Penton). If you were to combine the respective merits of them all, however, I doubt if you could equal “Capricornia,” by Xavier Herbert, recently published by Angus & Robertson. This novel is a masterful one. It is as truly Australian as anything yet written. It is ruthless in its delineation of human nature in the raw. Mr. Herbert appears to have thrown himself passionately into his task and has achieved in the experiences he must have gone through and in the power of the telling, almost a life's work.

In this story of two brothers and their battle with life in Northern Australia the author makes a forceful plea for the half-caste aboriginal. The horrors attendant on the colour bar are luridly depicted. The chief character, Norman, “the yeller feller,” son of one of the brothers, is the basis on which Herbert builds his arguments. The story is too long to outline even in bare detail, but it is one that grips you on every page.

“Capricornia” won the £250 Sesqui-centenary Prize.

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page 45

A compact reference book for literary students is to be found in “Courses in Literary History,” by William A. Amiet, M.A., recently published by Angus & Robertson. The book is a descriptive catalogue of works to be read in the study of comparative literatures. The author observes that so far no literary historian has arisen in New Zealand. “Material for such a work is available,” he states, “in ‘Annals of New Zealand Literature’ prepared by the New Zealand Authors' Week Committee in 1936.”

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From time to time I receive letters from people, young and old, asking me how they may learn to write paragraphs, articles or stories for newspapers and magazines. Often it is obvious from the letter itself that the hope to write is a hopeless quest for the individual concerned. Sometimes specimen stories are sent and they show a glimmer of talent. Now, what is the best way to develop this quality? There are a number of excellent text-books and correspondence courses available to the student. Further assistance may be had through the study of magazines and books. There are excellent correspondence schools, both in New Zealand and abroad. Of the local correspondence schools, one I have heard well spoken of is Druleigh College, Auckland. I understand that they have a valuable association with local knowledge in one or two leading New Zealand journalist advisors.

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Reviews.

“New Zealand Best Poems of 1938,” edited by C. A. Marris (Harry H. Tombs Ltd., Wellington) is always an event for verse lovers in this country. I was not as greatly impressed with this collection as I have been with past issues. The heavy cloud of war abroad and a surplusage of political talk at home have possibly weighed down the minds of our poets. Robin Hyde, I found largely incomprehensible. These intellectual soliloquies where one hears vague snatches of a poet's thoughts do not appeal to me. With a sigh of relief I turned to the simple sincerity of Helena Henderson and of the late Winifred Tennant; the latter's verse in cases strangely and sadly prophetic. C. R. Allen's tribute to E. V. Lucas is a worthy one. I also like the verse of E. D. Morgan, who I think is a recent arrival in the realms of local poetry. His lines are fine and manly. J. R. Hervey sounds an effective and eerie note in “The Avengers.” There are others worth praising, but space will not permit.

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“Men and Cities,” by S. Elliott Napier (Angus & Robertson, Sydney) is a book describing “the Journeying of a Journalist.” Those who were fortunate enough to meet the author during his visit to New Zealand last year will be re-impressed through the pages of this book with the descriptive power, the alert observation and the literary style of Mr. Napier. The wide public he gained through his earlier books “On the Barrier Reef” and “Walks Abroad,” etc., also his book of verse, should be held and added to through this latest volume. With Mr. Napier we go to Tahiti (via New Zealand, with interesting comments on Wellington) on to Panama, Virginia, Newport News and finally to the Dutch East Indies and Singapore. The enthusiasm of the author for strange and beautiful scenes, for unusual people, is infectious. One is carried from page to page with the easy and graceful style of the descriptions. The book is illustrated.

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“Plume of the Arawas,” by Frank O. V. Acheson was first published in 1930 and met with such an enthusiastic reception that Messrs. A. H. and A. W. Reed have now published a second popular edition at a very moderate price. This striking story will always live in the library of New Zealand fiction. Although the story is wholly in the form of fiction it has historical value in that it is closely tied up with ancient record and true Maori atmosphere.

“The Mimshi Maiden,” by Hugh McCrae (Angus & Robertson, Sydney) is a combination of poetical and typographical artistry. It contains only seven pages, but I would rather possesit than many books of fifty times the size. Just listen to the opening lines:

Round the island of Zipangu, Crowned with lilies, silver-sandale'd, Through the amber bending bamboo, In a rickshaw many-candled, Rode a tiny Mimshi maiden, Mimshi, princess of Zipangu, To the temple where she prayed in.

“Shibli” Listens In.

Eric Ramsden, New Zealand journalist, who came across from Australia last month to gather further material for his book on James Busby, tells me that he has discovered many new and interesting facts surrounding the life and times of the redoubtable Busby.

John Brodie, author of “The Little Country,” will be absent in the Old Country about a year.

Another New Zealand Authors' Week will probably be held during the Centenary Celebrations.

Miss Nellie Coad will represent the New Zealand centre of the PEN at a PEN Congress to be held in New York this year.