* * * * *

Another novel that is not the novel of the season is Mr. John Ayscough's
"Marotz," about which much has been said. I do not wish to labour this
point. "Marotz" is not the novel of the season. I trust that I make myself
plain. I shall not pronounce upon Mr. Masefield's "Captain Margaret,"
because, though it has been splashed all over by trowelfuls of slabby and
mortarish praise, it has real merits. Indeed, it has a chance of being the
novel of the season. Mr. Masefield is not yet grown up. He is always
trying to write "literature," and that is a great mistake. He should study
the wisdom of Paul Verlaine:

_Prends l'éloquence et tords-lui son cou._

Take literature and wring its neck. I suppose that Mr. H. de Vere
Stacpoole's "The Blue Lagoon" is not likely to be selected as the novel of
the season. And yet, possibly, it will be the novel of the season after
all, though unchosen. I will not labour this point, either. Any one read
"The Blue Lagoon" yet? Some folk have read it, for it is in its sixth
edition. But when I say any one, I mean some one, not mere folk. It might
be worth looking into, "The Blue Lagoon." _Verbum sap._, often, to Messrs.
Robertson Nicoll and Shorter. In choosing "Confessio Medici" as the book
of the season in general literature, Dr. Nicoll [Now Sir William Robertson
Nicoll] has already come a fearful cropper, and he must regret it. I would
give much to prevent him from afflicting the intelligent when the solemn
annual moment arrives for him to make the reputation of a novelist.