On The Shelf

A quick look through Signature tells what has happened since its predecessor, literary, neurotic Radditudes, came out last Spring. Not only has the unappetizing name been thrown out, but the aimless wandering from plan to plan and idea to idea has also gone. The editors now seem to know where they are going. The addition of a photo montage, Harvard editors, and a monthly forum on topics of interest to students all show that Signature's is attempting to fill a need--a college magazine for both Harvard and Radcliffe.

Although the new magazine has not been entirely successful in its endeavor, it makes entertaining reading that is at least free from the adolescent eccentricities of Radditudes. The forum, consisting of a few letters on the extent of political consciousness around here, does not come through with any concrete ideas; but a short article on the state of modern drama, the subject of next month's forum, is provocative as well as clearly written. The other non-literary feature, two letters from German students, does well in keeping the general "for students and by students" flavor of the magazine.

Two of the stories succeed, largely because they focus on a concrete event; but the third, called "Apprentice," is nothing but a long, almost pointless narrative that is written carelessly. "The Prisoner," by Roger Princerd, is the high point of the magazine, owing its success to a straightforward and unpretentious style, and to having the solid basis of one realistic incident. The story of a stowaway being back to Poland from America, it remains objective and lucid throughout.

Evelyn Garvin's story, "If you Should Go to Venice," comes off too, but for different reasons. It is really nothing more than a vignette, which through the author's sensitivity and ability to project, keeps a unity of mood and feeling. Though this work is limited in scope and almost completely unexciting, it does accomplish the difficult task of getting into a child's mind and making the child stay human. "Apprentice" fails in describing children. The little boy involved is repeatedly and annoyingly referred to as "the cube-shaped boy," a bit of unexplained whimsy that is not easy to digest.

Weakest part of the magazine is the poetry. Only Anne Tolstol's "Carmel" is free from banality and fuzziness. "The Neurotic" is overloaded with the cliches of modern poetry, while "Autumn," a quatrain, consists of what seems to be an inaccurate metaphor. "Carmel," a delicate landscape in verse, has an effortless meter, and is one of the most rewarding pieces recently seen in local publications.

All in all, Signature is an attractive-looking job, with its makeup improved over the extinct Radditudes. The cover, a pleasant photograph of a girl outside Harvard Hall, sets the inter-collegiate tone, while the football-weekend montage inside lends the timely mood. The new magazine has set itself a road to travel; the need for it seem to be there; and this issue is worth its thirty-five cent price.