The Arctic Times - 01.10.1941, Side 4

4
THE ARCTIC TIMES
CONVOY.
When the ship is pitching steeply to a Western Ocean swell,
And compasses are playing tricks which nobody can tell,
May lead you into Reykjavik or pile you up ashore,
With the prospect of inquiries and a bowler hat in store.
When the mail’s no longer extant and the distances are far,
The horizon of your sextant in the land of Shangri La,
When the submarine you’re hunting has eluded you pro tem,
And your signals stay unanswered and the memo jogs no mem.
When the nights are seeming endless and the days begin to pall,
And the powers that be are fickle and at times be not at all,
Then it’s time to make your mind up it’s a job that must be
done,
As part of the gigantic game to liquidate the Hun.
There’s a thousand homes in England who are looking up to you,
In the sure and certain knowledge that the CONVOY will go
through.
Lt. George Elliott R.N.V.R.
READING THIS
WINTER.
Now that even the most
optimistic of us have resigned
ourselves to the prospect of
another winter in Iceland it
would be well to consider how
we propose to pass the long
dark hours ahead of us so that
we can afterwards look back on
them and feel that they were
not wasted. On the face of
things reading would seem to
be one of the least origonal
suggestions: we all read alot
already. But do we? We skim
through magazines, newspap-
ere, sensational fiction and olc
copies of „Picture Post“ in the
canteen, but the percentage of
people who really do read in
the Army must be quite small.
Yet even when we read solely
for entertainment it does pay
to show some discrimination. A
few people may wish to read
poetry, essays or plays but the
majority of people will confine
themselves to biography, fiction
and books.of travel: and what I
am suggesting for the coming
winter is that, instead of pic-
king up the first thing that
comes to hand, you should
deliberately choose a few first
rate works and that you should
read them carefully, paying
attention to the drawing of the
individual charcters, the appro-
priateness of the words used as
well as to the plot.
Yes; I am still talking of
reading for entertainment, Why
is it that so many people are so
afraid of being „highbrow11 in
their reading (whatever that
may mean)? Nobody would pay
to watch an unknown football
team when he could watch a
first rate one but very many
people are prepared to pay for
third rate novels. Yet a good
detective novel (such as those
in the Penguin Series) appeals
at least as much by its charac-
terisation as by its plot. If you
enjoy these you should enjoy
most of the other good modern
novels in the same series. A
good novelist can get more
excitement out of a trivial
incident than can an inferior
one out of the most fantastic
plot: only remember that a
good novel has to be worked up
to a climax. You may not find
the first two or three chapters
quite so enthralling as those of
„No orchids for Miss Blandish".
Reading should link itself up
with life. We in Iceland are
living in very strange surroun-
dings: we realise now how
much England means to us;
England with its green fields,
its trees, homely villages and
beautiful old buildings, its cosy
pubs and the solid comforts of
its towns. All those things
which we took for granted are
missing here and most of us
have become conscious of our
environment for the first time.
You have each reacted to this
country in your own way. You
have described this strange is-
land in you letters home„ so
you should find it interestíng to
compare the impressions of ot-
her travellers with your own.
There are several excellent
travel books among the Pen-
guins but unfortunately theie
are none on Iceland, but, in
the „Everyman Series“ you will
find a very fascinationg book
called „Letters from high lati-
tudes“ by Dufferin. Iceland is
still in may respects an und-
eveloped country and whenevér
men and women struggle to
wrest a living from harsh
natural conditions their lives
will have something in common.
This thought brings to mind
the considerable number of
novels dealing with such people,
those for instance of Mary
Webb or Thomas Hardy, and, if
you find these ground down
earthly characters too depress-
ing you can laugh off your
gloom by reading Stella Gibb-
ons’ „Cold Comfort“ (its in the
Penguins).
You might quite reasonably
object that you have already
seen too much of what is
strange and hostile, then you
can escape into what is friendly
and familiar for in reading we
can forget for a few hours the
Dounds of time and space. You
can tour England in the jovial
company of J. B. Priestley’s
„Good Companions“ and, if you
enjoy the tour, make another in
an older England of ,inns and
stage coaches in the equally
good company of Dicken’s
„Pickwick“. These two books, if
you could obtain them, would
provide enough reáding to lact
the winter and they would
teach you as much about the
changes that have come over
England during the last century
as a good deal of laborious
historical research. They would
set you thinking, too, about the
changes you would like to see
in our country after we have
won the war.
These are merely suggestions;
it is delightful to dabble among
books but, when there is so
rriuch to choose from, it is better
to have some principle of
selection. You might look out
for novels dealing with people
following your own civilian
occupation or, on the other
hand, with life among soldiers
and in time of war.
There remains the important
question as to how can obtain
the books that you want. It is
hoped to make available a num-
ber of library books but you
can also find out from your
own education officer whether
there is any possibility of a
unit library being formed. Then
a miniature library can be
formed by pooling the books in
your hut, exchanging views on
the books at the same time.
Finally there is always the
possibility of buying books
although it is certainly not so
easy in this part of the country.
Anyway think this over and if
during this period of darkness
you do develop the reading
habit I assure you that you will
never regret your second win-
ter in Iceland.
Sgt. TicLy.
Dear Britain.
By
Sapper Baird.
As we defend our country in
this great struggle for freedom
and think of our dear homes
far away it gives us that great
will to win spirit. The Nazis
cannot get us down for we are
made of the real stuff; as strong
and silent as the hills around
us.
Winter is drawing near and
with it Christmas with all its
memories; the time our child-
ren love so well. But gone are
those days for most of us now
but it is good to know that we,
whereever we are, are making
those pleasures that were once
ours, safe for the Bairns at
home. When peace comes we
will all be proud to have lived
in what was Britain’s greatest
hour of need, and, as we read
these few lines, let us not be
downhearted.
Dear Britain, in this hour of
need,
Amongst your strife and toils,
You’re bound to live to reap
the seed
You’ve never been denied.
For in this hour of frantic war
Whifch you must win or die,
The harvest you are waiting for
Is sure to come again.
Your lovely shores that shine
at night,
That link with stars above;
Oh! Britain, what a beauteous
sight,
You’ve taught us how to love.
For Britain’s glory will be mine
For years and years to come;
You’re sure to make the whole
world shine
Before your work is done.
MY PLEA.
Give to me the fields of England,
The babbling brook and shady
walk.
Give to me a peaceful
homestead,
My wife, armchair and English
talk.
Reykjavlk Radio Programme.
Friday 10. Oct. Organ Recital
by Páll Isólfsson relayed
from the C athedral,
Reykjavík. Also a Radio
Play, „Atmospherics“.
Sunday 12. Oct. The Ambassa-
dors of Swing, News
Summary and „Your“
request records.