The Far Cry by Emma Smith (Readers’ Union 1951; originally published by MacGibbon & Kee in 1949)
I’m not sure when or how I acquired this book, but it’s been on my shelf for many years. With the exception of a single blurb on the back cover (“Hers will one day be a very important name indeed” — New Stateman), the jacket reveals nothing about the book or its author — no cover image, no description of the book, no bio of the author. Only the title: The Far Cry.
It’s interesting to read a book without any of the basic information or assumptions one usually enters a book with — where, when, who, what — all of those basic orienting facts. Is this ignorance an asset or a detriment? The reader must initially work a little harder, perhaps, to establish a connection with the book, but perhaps this connection, once established, is stronger and deeper than usual. The reader must read more carefully in order to conjure a world from the blank slate . . .
For some reason I stopped writing about this book before describing its content, about which I have no memory whatsoever. Who, and what, was it about? Did I like it? I have no idea. I shall have to glance through its pages and hope that something about it comes back to me.
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