Light Prose

496 LEITERS IN CANADA attitude toward an animal which we believe has been misrepresented and persecuted beyond reason for thousands of years." (It is so refreshing to find that modem scientists no longer feel that scientific objectivity is threatened by human conviction.) The aim is admirably advanced by the accounts of the close association between pet wolves and the Pimlott family. The objective probability, alas, is that only in Alaska and Canada ( mainly in Algonquin Park, where most of the material in this book originated) is the future of the wolf fairly secure; in Europe, and especially in Russia, where "the feeling against wolves is as strong as it was in the United States at the height of the war on wolves over fifty years ago," the outlook is grim. The wolf of our invention is the creation of our own insecurity and fear. It is no accident that the dog, man's best friend, is a wolf, man's worst enemy-according to man. The whole psychological problem could be cleared up, I feel sure, if we could all engage, as the authors so often have, in the great therapy of wolfhowling . "There is a very real kick to be had out of getting an answer to your own voice from a pack of wolves. Many people are hesitant about trying to howl, but if you are able to make a noise that sounds anything like a dog howling, it will do. Two or three people howling together are better than one, and a mixed 'pack' of male and female voices is the best of all." 0. H. DALES) LIGHiPROSE It seems that all seven people who read this section (the copy-editor, the printer, my wife, myself, and three of the authors reviewed) are confused by the term "Light Prose." The definition is simple: the term covers all the books sent to me for review by the editors of the Quarterly, and indicates the quality of the reviews, not of the works. "Miscellaneous " would do too little credit to the authors, and too much to me. Categorization is not so simple, but the following types have been represented in the past: travel books; collections of newspaper writings and broadcasts by professional writers and academics; folk tales; biographies and autobiographies not of prime scholarly interest; books professedly entertaining, humorous, and diverting; collections of cartoons . In 1967, perhaps because of local celebrations and natal antics, no travel books seem to have been written, though I expect reminiscences HUMANITIES 497 of La Ronde to appear this year. All the other categories outlined, however , are represented or misrepresented below. First to the collections of newspaper and periodical writings, which unexpectedly do not overlap with hard-core humour this year. Those who knew the late Ralph Allen through radio, magazine, and newspaper and had picked up hints of his personality through talk and anecdote, will be somewhat disappointed by The Man from Oxbow:The Best of Ralph Allen (McClelland and Stewart, viii, 184, $6.50). In her introductory note and concluding chapter ("The Pleasure of his Company ") the editor, Christina McCall Newman, indicates that the collection is a tribute, not sentimental but unquestionably celebratory; unfortunately the quality and range of the selected pieces (estimated as about one-twentieth of Allen's journalistic writings) do not justify the strength of admiration and affection indicated. Perhaps a better selection, with greater concentration on his ability to put events in broad perspective , is called for; certainly one can infer that Allen's influence as editor and colleague was more significant than his power as analyst and stylist. As a tribute the volume is marred (for non-journalists at least) by hints about the mystery and secrecy of his personality, and by references to the "real" newspaper world. But a tribute was needed, and Ralph Allen is being missed. My reaction to H. Gordon Green's Professor Go Home ( Montreal: Harvest House, 146, $4., pa. $2.) is undoubtedly prejudiced by the irrelevant but inevitable connotations of its title: the glories of the Go Home area of Georgian Bay, inhabited seasonally by professors and their progeny, lit up my wintry perceptions. But no, the book has nothing to...