WILLIAM HEWLETT'S new story, _The
Plot-Maker_ (DUCKWORTH), we are introduced to a popular and highly
successful novelist, named _Coulthard Henderson_, in the emotional
crisis produced by a sudden doubt as to whether his output of
best-sellers represented anything in the least approaching actuality.
You will admit a tragic situation. He meets it by the determination that
his next book shall be a veritable slice of life, and to this end he
selects and finances an eligible young man for the purpose of
vicariously experiencing those emotions, from which age and other causes
debar the chronicler; in other words, he hires a hero. The worst of this
excellent idea is that it can hardly be said to originate either with
_Mr. Henderson_ or Mr. HEWLETT, that credit belonging (I fancy) to the
late HERBERT FLOWERDEW in a too-little-appreciated masterpiece of
sensational burlesque called _The Realist_. However, _The Plot-Maker_,
once set going, develops admirably enough on lines entirely its own. The
so-much-an-hour hero turns out an engaging young gentleman, but a
wofully poor protagonist. The situation where (in the midst of whirling
events) he makes the startling discovery that he himself has been in
some way switched on to the part of villain is one that you can
appreciate only at first hand.
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