This Freedom
by . Boston: Little, Brown & Co. 1922. 12mo. x+372 pp. $2.00.
MR. HUTCHINSON’S new novel narrates the tragic attempt of a woman to succeed as a wife and mother and in a career at the same time. Though to the present reader the logic of the conclusion is not convincing, the book is excellently planned and the story is carried on with equal rapidity and skill. The four parts, entitled ‘The House of Men.’ ’The House of Women, ‘The House of Children,’and ‘The House of Cards,’— recounting in turn the heroine’s life as a child at home, as a growing girl in school and boarding-house, as a wife who is also in business, and, finally, as a mother, — mark the four stages of her history, from her early bewilderment over the predominance of men in society, through her growing sense of the unfairness of that predominance, on through her achievement of ’freedom’ in a career and her rather impulsive marriage, and to the end in which the realization comes to her that by succeeding in the career she has failed disastrously as a wife and mother.
In the first two parts, because he is at his best in sentiment, humor, and caricature, the author sustains his story with much skill, although even here his addiction to rhetorical exclamation and repetition at times becomes wearisome. The portrayal of Rosalie, the heroine, as a little girl, and of her father and her Aunt Belle, is particularly vigorous and true, and certain scenes, such as the suicide of Anna, the secret drinking of Miss Keggs, and the jealous letter of Miss Salmon, are narrated with some power. Altogether, the first half of the novel is excellent, showing more unity of both character and atmosphere than did If Winter Comes.
In the second half, however, in which Rosalie has won her freedom by achieving a position in business, notwithstanding her marriage and the birth of her three children, the author’s manner, which one is perhaps willing to forgive so long as it is to be interpreted as sentimental, humorous, or pathetic, becomes excessive. Having a story of considerable human interest and quite worthy to stand on its own merits, he is not willing to let it carry its own impression and stamp its own effect upon the reader, but must constantly appear from behind the scenes to point the moral. This he does with such persistence that the reader is tempted to rise up in defense of his own powers of perception. The style, moreover, is of such emotional incontinence that some of the later chapters fairly bristle with exclamation points. Even Dickens, whose less restrained style Mr. Hutchinson’s sometimes recalls, was chary of exclamation points, because they inevitably lead the reader to feel, sooner or later, that the author ‘doth protest too much,’ and therefore to doubt his sincerity.
To use the critical jargon of the day, Mr. Hutchinson’s great failing is sentimentalism. Sentimentalism is certainly the particular fault of the style: whether it is of the plot also, there is perhaps some ground for dispute. The book, indeed, is certain to provoke wide differences of opinion, wit respect not only to the points here touched upon but also to its main thesis. After all, is there anything better worth disputing than the question of fundamental realities, and their opposites? R. M. GAY
In the first two parts, because he is at his best in sentiment, humor, and caricature, the author sustains his story with much skill, although even here his addiction to rhetorical exclamation and repetition at times becomes wearisome. The portrayal of Rosalie, the heroine, as a little girl, and of her father and her Aunt Belle, is particularly vigorous and true, and certain scenes, such as the suicide of Anna, the secret drinking of Miss Keggs, and the jealous letter of Miss Salmon, are narrated with some power. Altogether, the first half of the novel is excellent, showing more unity of both character and atmosphere than did If Winter Comes.
In the second half, however, in which Rosalie has won her freedom by achieving a position in business, notwithstanding her marriage and the birth of her three children, the author’s manner, which one is perhaps willing to forgive so long as it is to be interpreted as sentimental, humorous, or pathetic, becomes excessive. Having a story of considerable human interest and quite worthy to stand on its own merits, he is not willing to let it carry its own impression and stamp its own effect upon the reader, but must constantly appear from behind the scenes to point the moral. This he does with such persistence that the reader is tempted to rise up in defense of his own powers of perception. The style, moreover, is of such emotional incontinence that some of the later chapters fairly bristle with exclamation points. Even Dickens, whose less restrained style Mr. Hutchinson’s sometimes recalls, was chary of exclamation points, because they inevitably lead the reader to feel, sooner or later, that the author ‘doth protest too much,’ and therefore to doubt his sincerity.
To use the critical jargon of the day, Mr. Hutchinson’s great failing is sentimentalism. Sentimentalism is certainly the particular fault of the style: whether it is of the plot also, there is perhaps some ground for dispute. The book, indeed, is certain to provoke wide differences of opinion, wit respect not only to the points here touched upon but also to its main thesis. After all, is there anything better worth disputing than the question of fundamental realities, and their opposites? R. M. GAY