Mr. James Joyce is an Irish edition of Mr. Caradoc Evans. These writers, that is to say, have made it their business in life to portray the least estimable features of their respective countrymen, Irish or Welsh. Mr. Joyce's new book, A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man is an astonishingly powerful and extraordinary dirty study of the upbringing of a young man by Jesuits, which ends-so far as we have been at all able to unravel the meaning of the impressionist ending-with his insanity. The description of life in a Jesuit school, and later in a Dublin college, strikes one as being absolutely true to life-but what a life! Parts of the book are perhaps a little too allusive to be readily understood by the English reader. On pp. 265-6, there is an account of what happened at the Abbey Theatre, Dublin, when The Countess Cathie en, by Mr. W. B. Yeats, was put on, but the fact is darkly hidden. Mr. Joyce is a clever novelist, but we feel he would be really at his best in a treatise on drains. . . .