First published in The Sydney Morning Herald on October 16, 1915

When a whole book of verse is devoted to the deeds and moods of one man, poetic tradition demands that this man should be of some consequence. Mr. C. J. Dennis obeys that tradition, though he breaks new ground in doing so. "The Sentimental Bloke," whose taming and triumphant eagerness to wear his chains is the motif of the series, is a person of greater importance in the world's history than many who have aspired to greater honours. His name is Bill, plain Bill, and one searches in vain for a surname. He does not pretend to be a hero; he cannot even claim to have a "steady job," until his matrimonial ambitions compel one. But when the natural order of things finds him his affinity, he becomes rather to his own surprise, a highly responsible individual.

A poetic cycle has never been written about such an unpoetic individual as Bill. One spring day he is overcome with a sense of his own unworthiness:

Me that 'as done me stretch for stoushin' Johns, And spen's me leisure gettin' on the shick.

But he sees Doreen - "the ideel tart " Doreen snubs him twice, and Bill realises that his previous methods of gallantry will not avail him. The necessary "intro" secured, matters proceed more smoothly. They see Romeo and Juliet together, and the story appeals to both:

" 'Wot's in a name?' she says: 'struth, I dunno,   "Billo is just as good as Romeo."

Bill is himself moved by love to indulge in poetry. He is struck by the symbolism of the alternation of day and night as reflected in his own wooing, and his remarks on it all are characteristic, even if the similes are too ingenious. So we follow this pleasant pair to the altar and beyond. Bill, despite his name, is in no means a sentimentalist as his comments on the unavoidable preliminaries and accompaniments of matrimony prove. He is not wholly regenerate, as we learn from "Beef Tea." He sometimes half unconsciously regrets his old freedom. With any other daughter of Eve than Doreen he might have run off the rails. Then - but let him speak for himself:-

My son! Two little words, that, yesterdee,
Was just two simple, senseless words to me, An' now, no man, not since the world began,
Made any better pray'r than that . . . my son! A little while ago it was just "me," A lonely, longin' streak of misery;
An' then 'twas "er an' me — Doreen, my wife! An' now it's "'im and us" — an' sich is life.

We take leave of Bill, established as a farmer, with his final word of philosophy:-

Sittin' at evenin' in this sunset land,
Wiv' 'er and all the world to 'old me 'and;
A son to bear me name when I am gone . . . 
Living and lovin', so life mooches on.

Bill is a wholly delightful person, and from what he tells us of Doreen, she must be equally delightful. In case Bill's peculiar style of speech may prove an obstacle to appreciation, a glossary has thoughtfully been added, though in Australia it will probably not be needed. The obvious criticism of the book is that Bill could not possibly have expressed the sentiments attributed to him, however keenly he may have felt them. People like Bill are, per force of circumstances, somewhat inarticulate when they enter these regions, and in "The Stoush o' Day," to take a single instance, he has drawn an analogy which he would scarcely have found the words to express.

But this criticism is of small importance. Mr. Dennis translates, he does not merely report. Bill never said these things, but in a vague unformulated way he thought them. Bill has been lucky in finding so admirable an interpreter. Mr. Dennis has already given us one taste of his quality in "Backblock Ballads." "The Sentimental Bloke" gives us another, and whets our appetite for more. Mr. Hal Gye's illustrations deserve mention. Their idea is distinctly original, and the scheme is carried out cleverly. (Angus and Robertson.)

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald on October 16, 1915

Twitter: FairfaxArchives