While most novelists attempt to develop character, few have realized how effectively the principal actor can tell about himself in the third person. Biographies, even though fictitious, seem to lack vitality and autobiographies, when the narrator is of little consequence in world affairs, are invariably priggish. Percy Marks has happily hit upon a working solution of this dilemma in "A Tree Grown Straight" and, incidentally, has written the best analysis of the problems of our generation.
The author of "The Plastic Age" reverts to the younger generation in his latest book but reveals a considerably deeper understanding of its problems than he possessed twelve years ago. The picture of youth as 95 percent hairbrained and morally insecure has been washed away and although we find similar characters in the now volume, they appear remarkably better developed.
Marks realizes that school and sex are not the only factors in a rounded education and gives us snapshots of all the casual acquaintances who have made a definite impression on the characters of most young people. There is a glimpse of church life, a more detailed portrait of the pet dog, a glance at high school athletics and a prolonged picture of family relationships. Whatever message the author may wish to present, it is largely contained in this latter description.
Andrew Ross tells the story of his life to an old author who believes he is the young man best fitted to meet life and wants to write a book around him. Andy begins with his first childish recollections, which are handled intelligently by the author. Dr. Ross is a country doctor and an extraordinarily understanding father, while his wife is devoted to them both but has all the maternal worries that tradition ascribes to mothers.
As the boy grows older he becomes acquainted with the problems of puberty and sex, but passes through this period with little difficulty because of his father's frank advice. The puppy-love stage is treated with all the seriousness it deserves and when Andrew falls from grace at the rather tender age of 16 he is orientated by his father and helped rather than hurt. This close understanding of father and son is present throughout the volume in almost too perfect harmony, but Marks appears to be looking back and seeing how the situation should have been.
After young Ross has entered college, Dr. Ross stops his activities as guardian angel believing that his son is equipped to live alone. It appears to be a successful policy because he emerges from the confusion of study and girls which is present in every state university with a clear philosophy of living.
Read more in News
The Crimson Playgoer