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December 11, 1921 - Image 3

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November Whimsies--A Criticism
(By G. ). E.) ing the past three days and thirty- But when I reach "Two Thousand says, "A nigger hunt's better'n a coon
In making a criticism of the No- one have had to do with death. Are Years After," a one-act play by Lyn- hunt,"-the typical attitude of the
vember Whinmsies, I wish several such things written with a fountain don Babcock, I have reached the No- southern gentry, though I doubt if they
things to be kept in mind; first, that pen or an embalmer's squirt-gun? I vember Whimsies at its worst. It are so frank about it.
I am on friendly terms with most of am tired of such stuff. It makes me makes me wonder if the author ever Babcock misses a chance to display
the writers; second, that my criticism 'niasy, contemplative of my endless read the world's poorest melodrama. real perspective when he deals with
is not personal; third, that I am not t sins and carnalities, the coming tor- ls he linever heard of Simon Legree the Bible-reading negro. The picture
condemning Whimsies as a publica- tires of my lost soul, the final relent- and snuffling old Uncle Tot? Does of entirely superstitious blacks with
tion or as an institution, and finally, less reckoning after I give my lasts he not know that the "Uncle Tom's their pathetic faith and pious eye-roll-
that I am considering it quite apart C onvulsive kick and flop out. By now Cabin," along with "East Lynn," is ing is correct in all details. Instead
from the contribution by Robert F rnotit!(, e autlor is hoping that I come to now confined largely to the films, in of showing the pathos of it, however,
That is to say, I am eonsid-rn some bad end, and she will probabtly towns of not more than three thou- he apparently shares the superstitions.
Whimsies oi its own merits-or latk not have read to this point where I sand? In Babcock's entire piece of The title alone convicts him of that.
of them. I am condemning merely the -say that some of her phrases were new work there is but one bit of merit and But his worst mistake comes when
November issue. As a matter of act, and charming. that is where one of the characters (Continued on page 7)
the previous issue, puilished last
spring and devoted exclusively to
verse, was worthy of a deal of praise.
The November number as a whole
has not half the literary value of the
"Police Gazette," nor a tentt. Some
terrible surgery is needed, and as I
latly believe that no one else wil
volunteer, I am unsheathing the sal-
pet. I shall likely be denounced and
forced to appear before several Ponti-
tices Maximi and Imperatores Cacsares
with my bloody and guilty hands, but
I can stand almost anything-even thoe
sight of a girl chewing gum-even
November Whimsies. This is your opportunity to get an extraordinary Suit or
"Bowing a la Japonaise," by Yuki
G. Osawa, I found to be lightly touch-
ed with a deft andra tapririoius tmsior,
but all in all, if was rather trivial. Overcoat at ordinary prices. W e still have a few
"December," by Chester Kuhn, car-
ried personificationto to'he extremei
limit. I can say nothing in its favor GORDON AND FERGUSON OVERCOATS
Traces," by Lawrence Conrad
started out finely with two stanzas of
exceedingly good description, a rare
and real poetic strain, and then it ex which will be placed on sale at $22.00, $25.00, and $30.00.
ploded into the veriest of trash, into
petty mystification, with its author
bawling loudly for ryhme schemes to
help him out of the f onuddle. Yet I
want to express my appreciation of
those first two asrans; they fi-ormd SHEEP - LINED AND LEATHERS WILL BE
a fine, clear ticture itndeed.t
"Morning Dew," by Marjorie C
Rosecrans, as without exception the
best entire piece of 'ork in the is SOLD BELOW COST.
sue. And why? Simply because it
was not pretentious. The writer did
not go out hunting dinosaurs with al
blunderbuss loaded with swallow shot.
She wrote simply, and whatever the
technical faults and lack of artistry in
the poem, it has honesty and sweet- If you are going to the J-Hop get our prices on formal
When I came to "half a Loaf" toy
Wessel Smitter, I was completely-flato- clothes before you go home for Christmas. You will find our
bergasted. I know Smitter, and I
know that his pen is one of the best prices reduced to an attractive figure.
three on the campus, perhaps the very
best. If he doesn't nake los mork in
the literary world I'll inhale a btox of TUXEDOS At $55
finest Copenhagen snuff with my hay
fever at its apogee. 'talf a Loaf" is
so aged in vernacular, so amateurish
in plot, that I overlook the realistic TUXEDOS AND DRESS SUITS FOR HIRE
atmosphere with which it starts out,
and consign it to the nearest gutter;
forevermore. Despite the fact that it
begins colorfully and that it maintains AT
its grace of phrase throughout, in its
totality it isn't worth the whiskers on
a Lincoln penny.
"Nightfall," a poem by Delbert
Clark, is not bad, but it has been done
a million times. A number of the ex-
pressions are hackneyed. Yet it might;
please me immensely if read to me in LIBERTY
a summer dusk by a pretty girl. * 604 E.
"My Little One is Dead," by Ruth
Lechlitner is beyond my appreciation,
I fear. I have read sixty poems dur- j


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