BOOKS
America. All of them are slim-they range in size from 16 to 32 pages–
but within their limited space appear more advanced contributions to
revolutionary fiction and poetry than have appeared in any American
magazine for a long time.
Left Front
claims the real distinction of being the first of the sec–
tional John Reed Club magazines, which now includes
The Partisan
(Hollywood),
R ed Pen
(Philadelphia) and
Partisan Revipw. Its
primary appearance in the field has enabled its editors to progrcss from
the publication of an imitative, pseudo-modern format to the striking
professional appearance which
Left Front
presents today. Moreover, in
addition to this decided advance, the editors of
Left Front
apparently have
resolved the status and character of their publication. It is exactly what
its subtitle claims for it: the organ of the John Reed Clubs of the Middle
West. In its twcnty large pages can be found such exccllent documentary
articles as Edith Margo's
The South Side Sees R ed,
a praiseworthy ex–
amination of the awakening to militant class struggle of the great Negro
population of Chicago; such competent stories as J. S. Balch's
A Drink
of
/1/
ater
and Tom Butler's
The Strike COlli es to Thorne RUIl;
note–
worthy reportage on the midwestern farm struggles by Ben Field and Obed
Brooks, and book reviews by Joseph Kalar, Orrick Johns, Rill Jordan,
Jack Conroy and others. The poetry does not approach the standards set
by the other departlllcns, although
Prelude
is the most promising poem
by William Pillin that I have seen. And since it is the prelude to a
longer series of poems entitled
.v
orth
A
merica
one hopes for greater
poetic achievement from Pillin's pen.
Henry George Weiss 's
Negro
Ditch Digger
is impressionistic verse, distinguished neither in technique
liar in meaning. Richard \Vright's
Rest for the Weary
and
A
Red
Love Note
renal genuine feeling and potential power, but they are
manifestos to the ruling class, affirmations of class-power and self-identifica–
tion by the author (a young Negro puet) with the working class; they
are
not
poetry.
The Anvil,
edited from Mobcrly, Missouri by that most indefatigablc
of revolutionary literary editors, Jack Conroy, is a magazine composed
solely of short stories and verse. It's function is simpler than that
of
uft Front,
since it is purely an outlet for creative revolutionary literary
expression, with no ties to any closely-knit organization such as the John
Reed Club. The January-February number contains stories by Samuel
Gaspar, John C. Rogers, ]. S. Balch, Alfred Morang and two new–
comers: Harriet Hassell and Robert O. Erisman. Of all the stories, Alfred
Morang's
Death ill the Rain
and Balch's
,Telephone Call
impress
me most. Morang, particularly deserves close attention; his growth within
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