Vincent O'Sullivan
The Good Girl. Published by Dutton & Co.
This admirable work of art is not known as well as it deserves either in England or America. It is a work of genius in every sense of that word, and it produces on the mind that curious sense of completeness and finality which only such works produce. Mr. L. U. Wilkinson - himself a writer of powerful achievement says of "The Good Girl": "It does what I have always desired should be done; it reduces 'atmosphere' and 'nature' to their proper subordinate place. It wastes no energy. It focusses one's intellect and one's emotion. It creates characters who resemble none others in fiction. It is imaginative realism of the highest level of excellence."
The complex figure of Vendred, the hero of the story, the evasive provocative Mona Lisa-like portrait of Mrs. Dover, the extraordinary and stimulating art with which her husband is described, the agitating and tragic appeal made to us by Vendred's : : child-wife, the unfortunate Louise - all these together make up one of the most absorbing and unforgettable impressions we have received for many years.
Of Mr. and Mrs. Dover in their relation to one another the following passage reverberates through one's mind: "They would sit opposite one another silently, criticising with a drastic pitiless criticism. This in itself showed where they had arrived; for faith has to be shaken before there is room for criticism, and if love survives the criticism of lovers, it is altogether different from the love they began with. Lovers can be almost anything they choose to each other and still be in love, but they cannot be critical. That is blighting."
Perhaps the most tragic thing in the book is the letter written by Louise to Vendred when the luckless child discovers her husband's intrigue with her mother: -"I came to you in the middle of the night last night because I was afraid of the wind.
The fire was burning and I saw. I am gone, you will never see me again."
The last scenes of the unfortunate girl's life - indirectly described by the ruffian who got possession of her in Paris - produce on the mind that sickening sense of the wanton stupidity of the Universe which fills one with hopeless pity.
The author of this book must have a noble and formidable soul.