The cover of the new Radditudes is white--neutral. That may be symbolic of Spring or finals, but it also represents the quality of the printed material on the inside pages of the magazine. The stories will jar nobody, and disappoint only a few, for they are almost without exception more skillful and a lot less neurotic than the last crop, but there is little that rises above the higher stages of mediocrity.

One story and one poem rise perceptible above the level of the rest. "The Horse Lover," by Lee Ann McCaffrey, achieves suspense right up to the end in its tale of the fate of a high-spirited horse that has killed a man. Neither the style nor the Characterization is superlative, but the author's judgment preserves an overall effect that is convincing. The poem, "The Death of a Friend," by Judith Nelson, was chosen by Professors Matthiessen and Levin to be Radcliffe's entry in the Eastern College Poetry contest. It is a mature piece of expressive writing, and consequently a rare and welcome specimen to see in what the editors of Radditudes insist is "not just a girl's college magazine." The richness of texture and the author's mastery of rhythm help to make the poem easily the best thing of its kind that has yet appeared in Radditudes.

Among the other stories, A. M. Kochler has wiped the blood off his fingers after his contribution last month, and come up with a grim little yarn involving a number of mousetraps and an old man wielding a blowtorch. There is also a poem by Mary Devolder which goes through the history of English poetry, promoting a four de force of the verse of important periods. Miss Devolder is undoubtedly clever, but the poem isn't very much fun to road, largely because of lines like:

Beneath my country's flag I longed to bleed.

Vive is Ithortel became my creed;

The format of Radditudes has been improved over the last issue, especially in the case of a very fine-looking title page. There are two cartoons and four incidental drawings. The drawings are reasonably good, if uninspired, but the cartoons don't seem to belong. A couple of letters to the editors are perhaps the most amusing part of the magazine. One, from a Cliffedweller named Annabelle Freud, complains subtly about the murderous crew of characters in the stories of the last issue. Happily, the editors have taken her advice.