ABSTRACT
The Olive Tree is another collection of essays, written, with two exceptions, within the last few years. The piece (placed last) which gives the book its pretty and concrete name is pure reflection, a runningon of the mind. The quickness and limpidity of its flow remind one that Aldous Huxley was labelled a writers' writer-which meant, presumably, that he writes better than lay people are expected to understand. Few readers now are as dumb as the critics thought: we know technique when we see it. The vitality, aptness, structure and inherent beauty of Mr. Huxley's style is plain to, more or less, anyone. He is occupied, now, with something beyond this-though real style, it is true, cannot be involuntary. His analysis of T. H. Huxley's prose is instructive.
