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Captain ALAN BOTT ("Contact”) has a literary gift of a high order, the gift of getting the very last thrill out of his experiences while telling his tale in the simplest and most straightforward way.  In Eastern Nights (BLACKWOOD) he describes his adventures as a prisoner of the Turks, first in Damascus and Asia Minor and finally in Constantinople.  The narrative, which is purely one of action, the action being supplied by the efforts, finally successful, of the author and various brother-officers to escape from their most unattractive captivity, nevertheless offers a most vivid picture of the social fabric of the Near East and in particular of the attitude of the melange of Oriental peoples that comprised the Turkish Empire towards the War in which they found themselves taking part, most of them with reluctance and all inefficiently.  Apathy rather than calculated brutality was chiefly responsible for the hardships suffered by the prisoners of war of all nations who were unfortunate enough to fall into Turkish hands.  From the point of view of an officer determined to escape, however, the prevalence of this quality was not without its advantage.  Most of the officials (Turks and Germans excepted) with whom Captain BOTT and his fellow-officers had to do were pro-Ally at heart and ready enough to assist an escaping prisoner if they did not happen to be too timid.  And even the Turk was amenable on occasion to baksheesh.  Altogether a most fascinating book, Eastern Nights is likely to win wide appreciation not alone for its literary merit but as a stirring record of the courage and resource, under desperate and trying conditions, of the Empire’s soldiers.

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Miss HENRIETTA LESLIE belongs to the school of novelists who believe in telling you all about their characters and leaving you to pass judgment on them yourself, without expert assistance.  It is a fine impartial method which succeeds in representing life and the indecisiveness of human nature very well; but such books somehow lack the glow of more partisan writings.  In A Mouse with Wings (COLLINS) she tells the story of a woman’s life from the time of her engagement until her son is a young man and she herself married again. Olga is a splendid creature, but, as Miss LESLIE cleverly lets you see for yourself, the belief in her own principles and their application, which is the essence of her character, alienates her husband and makes something like a ninny of Arnold, her son. A Mouse with Wings is not only the sobriquet of Beryl, the cheerful young Suffragette whom he loves, but has its application also to poor Arnold, who finds the courage to face life and a way out of it fighting in France.  It is a nicely-written book with a little air of distinction, but, in case anyone should blame me for hushing it up, I ought to mention that both Olga and Beryl would probably have admired Arnold a great deal more had he “found himself” by way of Conscientious Objection.