A review from "Commonweal" - Vol. 4 - May, 1926.
Among the stories which Mrs. Wharton has grouped under the title, "Here and Beyond," are many high up in the realm of the extraordinary, both as to matter and treatment. The first three in the group deal with the psychic and the supernatural. Of these, the third story, "Bewitched," is laid among the uncouth, reticent people of the New England backwoods. The tale develops in plain, realistic narrative, with economy of word and description, yet it grows, and grows, till it wraps in the chilly grip of horror of the supernatural and the gruesome. The more reiteration in Mrs. Rutledge's dead-level tones -- "I seen 'em! Ain't I seen 'em!" brings conviction of realness of the haunting dead. No hysterics or wringing of hands could have added to the finality. And when the ghost is laid to rest, there is no need to tell the ghastly solution is entirely to the woman's satisfaction. The clear tone with which, riding home from the funeral, she directs the driver to "call round to Pringle's and get a box of soap" is sufficient to show us that to her, now, all is well in the world.
Mrs. Wharton builds up her stories much as a skilled playwright handles his drama-no long monologues or speeches of explanation and analysis, but easy, cleverly-pointed dialogue, a few terse stage directions to experienced actors, and the characters reveal themselves, the plot is unfolded. So it is with Mrs. Wharton's art-the simple means productive of great effect, the lack of affectation in vocabulary or turn of phrase, the justness of the right word in the right place, give one a sense of sheer joy in reading the two stories which open the psychic group, sad though they are. The first of these-"Miss Mary Pask"-is the shortest in the book. One begins to gasp at the third page and is led breathless through many succeeding ones. It has a less gruesome solution than "Bewitched," yet the very bathos is its tragedy.
"The Young Gentleman" deals with the vagaries of heredity, and is not a tale to be recommended to apprehensive young mothers. But the description of the old New England coast town, and the summer visitors who 'discover' it, is delightful. A hint of mystery sharpens the interest up to the pitiful last scenes. And how pitiful they are! It seems almost a sacrilege to have uncovered them. Yet it was characteristic of that old New England to hide the family skeletons in the closet, not foreseeing that, after a lifetime of watchfulness, fate will some day outwit them and open the door behind their backs for all the world to look in. But the pity of it hurts long after the story is finished-perhaps the best tribute one can pay to the writer's vivid art.
"The Seed of Faith" gives the same sense of the march of impending tragedy that is in "Bewitched," though the scene is laid in far-off Africa amid Mohammedans and missionaries. It is descriptive of futile years, ending in a futile reparation that is wholly heroic. Fortunately for the reader the remaining tales are lighter in touch, "The Temperate Tone" being an amusingly cynical story of disillusioned hero-worship, while "Velvet Ear-Pads" is frankly farce, bright with humor and originality—a sort of escalator by which we are returned lightly to our everyday earth.
