Brief Diversions: Being Tales, Travesties and Epigrams

In Short

This book is a miscellany of short allegorical tales, sharp parodies of contemporary writers, and pithy epigrams. Written in the immediate aftermath of the First World War, the pieces range from surreal encounters between Greek gods and modern bureaucrats to mock-serious critiques of fellow poets. The work endures as a portrait of a burgeoning literary talent finding his voice, balancing a love for classical allusion with a cynical, clear-eyed observation of the absurdities found in daily life, public office, and the literary establishment of his day.

The Story

The collection opens with a series of allegorical tales where the mundane and the mythic collide. In these stories, figures like Bacchus or Babylonian gods attempt to visit modern settings—such as a London pub or a department store—only to be met with bureaucratic indifference, petty violence, or total misunderstanding. A "Business Expert" misses his calling by mistaking a location, leading to his demise in a town of poets; a poet gives away his dreams to the citizens of a small town, eventually burdening the Mayor with a vision of a long-dead queen; and a Member of Parliament finds himself expelled from the "World’s End" because his political speech is deemed a "poor tale."

As the narrative focus shifts, the stakes become more existential. We meet a "Lonely Soul" relegated to a desolate plain because he prided himself on having no imagination, and a poet who enters a "College of Immortal Fame" only to find it leads to a void of cold, empty space. The satire cuts deeper as the author turns his gaze toward the structures of society. A Newspaper King discovers a room in his office used to store the souls he has purchased from his staff, and a dying King watches his priests argue themselves into a frenzy over theological minutiae while he slips away in peace.

The middle section pivots into "Travesties," where the author adopts the mannerisms of his contemporaries—including W. B. Yeats, Walter De La Mare, and John Drinkwater—to gently mock their stylistic obsessions, from "Cotswold haze" to "moon-faces" and "witch-webs." These parodies function as a literary critique, highlighting the tropes that define the era's verse.

The final movement of the book, the "Epigrams," serves as a concluding reflection on the nature of life and art. The author contemplates the "forgotten" nature of humanity, the weight of time, and the inevitable return to silence. The collection closes not with a grand resolution, but with a series of quick, sharp observations about poets, critics, and the human condition. The final impression is one of a vast, slightly melancholic game, where the only thing left to do is tell a story, even if, like the old man on the highway, one eventually forgets the ending.

How It Unfolds

The arrival of the mythic The book introduces gods and legendary figures into the gray, soot-stained streets of modern England. These encounters almost always result in the god being ejected, fined, or ignored by a public that cannot fathom anything beyond the material.

The folly of the professional The narrative turns toward the self-importance of men who trade in efficiency, politics, and commerce. Whether it is a business expert or a Member of Parliament, these characters are consistently undone by their inability to perceive anything outside their own narrow, utilitarian scripts.

The descent into the surreal The stories move from the city to the boundaries of the afterlife and the end of the world. Here, the tone darkens as the author explores the consequences of a life lived without wonder, culminating in the horrific realization that some souls are literally "stored" as commodities.

The mimicry of the masters The author steps back from storytelling to inhabit the voices of the poets and critics he admires and critiques. By exaggerating their rhythmic habits and thematic preoccupations, he exposes the artifice of their "Immortal Fame."

The final distillation The concluding epigrams strip away the narrative mask, offering distilled thoughts on life, death, and the act of writing. The book ends by acknowledging that while the tales we tell are "better" than those of the world of men, they are ultimately just fragments whispered in the dark.

The People

The book is populated by archetypes rather than deep character studies. The Business Expert serves as the ultimate foil for wonder; he is a man who fills his ears with cotton-wool to block out the world, only to perish because he cannot hear the truth. The Gods—Marduk, Bacchus, and others—are presented as tragicomic figures whose ancient power is rendered useless by the petty rules of municipal life. They are looking for reverence but find only clerks and policemen.

The Politicians and Kings appear as hollow men, obsessed with "dignity" and "municipal affairs," consistently failing to grasp the reality of their own mortality. Conversely, the Poets—both the earnest and the parodied—act as the bridge between the mundane and the magical, though they are often depicted as being just as prone to vanity as the politicians. The Old Man who appears near the end acts as a representative of time itself; he is the keeper of stories, a figure who has seen everything and, in his wisdom, understands that the most profound truth is often something that is eventually forgotten.

In Its Own Voice

The author’s sharp, observant style is best captured in these moments where he balances the mythic with the mundane:

"A profiteer, a Priest of Nebt-het, from Heliopolis, and a Fool were walking together one day, when they met the grim figure of War belching flame and fury." (The opening of a tale illustrating the folly of attempting to understand the nature of conflict.)

"Then the six Chief Priests all began to talk at once, explaining their different systems, and they quarrelled and argued one with another, until nothing could be heard in the Palace but the sound of their voices." (The author’s cynical take on the chaos of competing religious orthodoxies.)

"We tell tales, replied the Angel, but they are better tales than you have ever heard or read." (A reflection on the limitations of earthly storytelling compared to the infinite.)

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for the necessity of wonder and the danger of narrow-mindedness. The author suggests that modern life, with its focus on "efficiency" and "municipal affairs," has built a wall between humanity and the vital, terrifying, and beautiful forces of the universe. The recurring theme is the "Lost Path"—the idea that by prioritizing the dry, the political, and the material, we have become strangers to our own souls. The book asks whether we can ever recover the ability to see the world as it truly is, or if we are destined to be like the "Business Expert," forever missing the point.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the brisk, intellectual playfulness of early 20th-century essayists will find much to admire here. It is a slim, fast-moving book that rewards a reader who appreciates biting satire and the ability to pivot from a silly parody to a profound, melancholic reflection in the space of a few pages. Because it was written in the immediate aftermath of a world-altering war, there is an undercurrent of disillusionment that feels surprisingly modern, even if the specific literary targets—the "Shropshire Lad" or the Edwardian poets—are now distant memories.

However, the reader should be prepared for the book's period specificities. The parodies rely on a familiarity with poets and critics who, while titans of their time, are not always household names today. The language occasionally reflects the slightly detached, patronizing tone of a young academic at a prestigious university in the 1920s. Despite this, the book remains a vibrant, often hilarious, and occasionally haunting document. It is a record of a young writer testing the limits of what a "brief diversion" can achieve, proving that even a short, fragmentary work can leave a lasting impression of the world’s absurdity and its hidden, flickering magic.