One wonders who will read this long novel in verse written by a young poet and telling in some 250 pages the story of Tahl, a musician. Tahl seems to have been a big boisterous artist; Allison was his sweetheart. He talked a lot, pounded the tables in Greenwich Village restaurants, travelled widely, loved humanity, and withal seems to have made a big impression on his friends. One has a feeling of being shunted back to the growing pains of the new century, the days of Harry Kemp, Bob Minor, Jack Reed. Or perhaps, as has been cynically noted, these are not individuals, only recurring types. Whatever the content, the verse is poor, the story sophomoric, not redeemed by recurrent references to the sea, unicorns and thunder.