Books: Big Book

ANTHONY ADVERSE — Hervey Allen — Farrar & Rinehart ($3).

Shouldering its way through the froth of summer fiction comes this leviathan of U. S. novels. Pre-eminent in size (1,224 pp.; 2¾ Ib.) but not in size alone, this big-boned romance may well strike terror into readers effetely accustomed to smaller, more playable fish, or to the monotonous diversity of a blank waste of waters. But those readers who allow themselves to be swallowed whole will emerge, some time later, grateful for the experience.

Anthony Adverse is a three-decker, picaresque-historical novel, crammed with enough people, action, scenery, philosophy, comedy, bloodshed, love and death to furnish a dozen books. Built to an old-fashioned design but modern specifications, it starts off like a Waverley Novel, soon gets beyond the purport of its traditional beginning. Like Tristram Shandy's, its hero makes a belated appearance, but when he does his fortunes hold the unwieldy tale together. In following him, however, the story loses track of some promising minor characters whose disappearance is disappointing, whose reappearance is sometimes anticlimactic. From France to Italy to Cuba to Africa to Europe again the story goes, then heads west to Louisiana and loses itself among the deserts and mountains of Mexico. Spanning the Napoleonic period, it introduces many a historical personage in human guise: Napoleon himself, Talleyrand, Slaver Mongo Tom, the Rothschilds (né Meyer). Though this lavish scene forms only the background for the hero, he is the least "real" (i. e., objectified) person in the book. A picaresque Everyman, he wanders the world searching for his soul, finally finds it; but most readers will be less interested in his quest than in his adventures by the way. Not a great book, except in size, Anthony Adverse is a solid, worthy addition to U. S. Letters. Postponed from month to month, it finally appears as July choice of the Book-of-the-Month Club.

Anthony's mother was the wife of Machiavellian Don Luis da Vincitata, but Don Luis was not his father. His mother died in the wintry Alpine inn where she bore him; his reckless young father saw the point of Don Luis' swordsmanship too late. The nameless orphan was deposited anonymously by Don Luis at a Livorno convent. After a peaceful childhood there he was adopted by old John Bonnyfeather. Scottish merchant in Livorno and actually his grandfather. Both suspected their relationship but neither, out of respect for his mother's memory, ever openly acknowledged it. Anthony was given a solid education and brought up as a gentleman-heir in his grandfather's establishment. Arrived at years of discretion and having survived his first passionate love-affair. Anthony went to Cuba to collect a long-standing debt to the firm. Havana suited him. and he fell in love again, but business once more tore him away, this time to Africa, where he spent long years as master of the slave-trading station of Gallegos. When he had amassed a tidy sum he sold out, went back to Europe to enjoy his wealth.