ONCE in a while — a long while — one comes upon a first novel that seems to owe nothing to current models, but to be written out of an ardent mind and full heart, like a poem. Hurricane Hush is that sort of rare and lovable thing. It is a compound of dream and disillusion, symbolism and realism, charmingly youthful and poignantly feminine. Its subject is the infatuation of a lonely, romantic girl for an unworthy lover, a hurricane of the spirit that blows her out of childhood into womanhood; but this common experience is told against the background of Florida pine forests, in images and language as fresh as the perfume of their needles, with a forthright facing of the sad and the horrible as well as a passionate love of natural beauty. Opinions may be divided about the author’s use of symbols, such as that of the tame bird, but no one can deny that a human experience is presented with poetic power.
R. M. G.