LEY'S _Anymoon_ (LANE) is a reasonably diverting
because superbly improbable account of England under the new Socialist
Commonwealth, with _Joseph Anymoon_, a highly popular Cockney
plebeian, as President. Follows an era of feminist control and a
Bolshevist revolution contrived by one _Cohen_ (with the authentic
properties, "Crimson Guards" and purple morality), and finally the
Restoration through the loyalist Navy, the complacent _Anymoon_
consoling himself with the reflection that if he was a failure as
CROMWELL he can at least be a success as General MONK. Perhaps the
wilder critics of the present order have no reason to complain
if their impatient generalisations are marshalled, however
disingenuously, against them. But the judicious folk of every school
who are now trying to take their bearings may wonder if much is to be
gained by putting up and knocking down such flimsy figures of straw.
Mr. HAROLD COX contributes a rather too solemn preface, which labels
this otherwise irresponsible novel as a serious tract. I rather think
that the engaging spectacle of the biographer of WILKES and the editor
of _The Edinburgh_ (the author of _The New Republic_ surely somewhere
in the offing) crouching among the headstones with a candle in a
hollow turnip will make a certain appeal to those with a sense of
humour and proportion ... The others may like it even better.

* * * * *

Nothing could be more attractive than the central idea of _The Love
Spinner_ (METHUEN), which is to tell the war-time adventures of a
little old lady--the good fairy of her circle--whose interest in
the heart-affairs of her friends wins her this pleasant if slightly
sentimental title. But, ungrateful as is the task of breaking so
innocent a butterfly upon the wheel of criticism, I'm afraid I must
add that I think Miss CLARA TURNBULL has hardly carried out her
purpose with sufficient discrimination. In plain fact she has allowed
her sympathies to run away with her. Such a character as _Miss
Jessie_, who goes about doing good, and producing incidentally the
most benevolent reactions in confirmed misanthropes, demands to be
handled with the nicest care if sentimentality is to be avoided. Let
me put it that Miss TURNBULL has not always been entirely successful
in this respect. Thus, despite some agreeable scenes, the book remains
one for the unsophisticated, or for those whose appetite for fictional
glucose is robust. There i