A Page of American Fiction

MISS HOUGH in "Not for Publication" presents a story of everyday life in an average town situated, presumably, on the Case. Pomanset is its name, Boston its exemplar of good taste, and it boasts of two daily papers, the Banner and the News. One could not reasonably expect extraordinary developments from such a situation. Miss Hough has not attempted the ridiculous.

Although there is nothing vital in the book it is pleasant enough reading. There is the hardworking editor of the Banner, very devoted to his wife. Her uncle owns the Banner and of course she has the money. A dark, handsome chap, her childhood lover, appears suddenly, conducts himself in a manner to provoke scandalous gossip, succeeds in compromising the lady, and turns out to be the villain who robs ignorant foreigners of their hoarded pennies. A "hometown" girl furnishes the aristocratic flavor. Having eloped with an impoverished Russian count, she returns to air her sophistications and provide limitless material for occasional "cat fests."

The customary marital misunderstanding occurs, and the presence of a good-looking girl on the reporting staff of the Banner presents complications. Both husband and wife almost do the unforgivable, but eventually things are cleared up to their mutual satisfaction, and the reporter seeks refuge in a husband.

The style is smooth and easy, characters are definitely drawn and not difficult to recognise. Perhaps the book's highest virtue is the conversation. There is nothing profound or intellectual about it, but it does ring true and sound natural.

One might take exception to the language. In spots it is rough and, it seems to me, out of place on the printed page. Perhaps it is characteristic of our age, but not more so than of most ages. Somehow it is reminiscent of "Flaming Youth" or "The Plastic Age," literature acceptable to adolescent prep-school minds but hardly of lasting importance.

With the exception of the language mentioned, Miss Hough has written a novel with no glaring faults. Neither has it any particular virtue. It is merely pleasant reading for an otherwise dull moment.