THE Pulitzer Prizes were conferred with more than usual rumpus this year. The Columbia officials were angry with Walter Winchell for having let the cat out of the bag; the advisors were disgusted that their choice had been vetoed, and not a few writers were sure that they had been neglected. OF course one of the chief benefits of such a selection is to remind us of books worth reading. In fiction the prize went to a very dark horse indeed, Lamb in His Bosom by Caroline Miller (Harpers, $2.50), a novel which the critics cheered on from the first, but one which ran its course obscured by the dust kicked up by Anthony Adverse. Lamb in His Bosom is Mrs. Miller’s first book and I am told that it was runner-up in the last Harper contest. (Who remembers the winner? Neither do I.) It is right that interest should revive in this sturdy story, of pioneer folk in Georgia. A novel of family life and the seasons, it gives appealing emphasis to two special qualities of the American frontier: the resourcefulness of the women, the clan loyalty of the men, Mrs. Miller’s style is wonderfully fresh in its observation and it gains additional charm by its infusion of the quaint old English of the times. Publishers distinguish between a man’s book and a woman’s book. This is a woman’s book: its homely details, its swift emotions, and its lovable family rows will stir the heart.
Stars Fell on Alabama (Farrar and Rinehart, $3.00) is the title given to a literary exploration of the deep South. I his is not a work of fiction, but a farrago of local history and presentday scenes set down in an agreeable, even a delectable fashion by Carl Carmer, the Yankee author who moseyed around with such good nature that the natives let him into their secrets. His chronicle is recommended by its range and pleasantry, its Southern humor, and its nostalgic flavor of romance. Here are Spanish legends, Ku Kluxers ranting about a Negro cardinal, pirates and conjure women, Demopolis with its memories of Napoleon, Rosemount, the epitome of all the plantations; here are fiddling contests, Negro cabins, the threat of lynching, and between times a collection of uncommonly good anecdotes. I call this Americana at its best.
P.S. Stephen Vincent Benét has written a felicitous short novel, James Shore’s Daughter (Doubleday, Doran, $2.50), a love story roving through Europe and America, which has the swift perception of a poet and much of the inconsequence of life. Characters well drawn, especially Jim Shore, but chiefly the story is remarkable for its redolence of the recent past.
