WCP1784

[1]

Broadstone, Dorset

May 25^th. 1903

Dear Mr. Van Eeden,¹

It is I think nearly a year since I received from your publisher your book— The Deeps of Deliverance²— &you must wonder why I have never acknowledged it before.

In the first place there was Nothing to shew[sic] me that it was you, whom I know, & not some other Van Eeden, which for aught I knew might be as common a name in Holland as Johnson or Thompson is with us. Then, I was in the middle of building a [2] house here, in which we are now living³, & so overwhelmed with work, correspondence, &c. that when, at last, I came to the conclusion that it was you yourself who had written the book I had delayed so long that I thought a little longer would not matter,— especially as I did not quite know what to say to you about it.

I read it with mixed feelings of admiration and dislike. The simple domestic parts are charming, but the extraordinary sexual conditions & problems [3] introduced greatly repel me.

I cannot conceive such a morbid existence as that you portray Hedwig’s husband. It seems to me incredible, & even if such a case had ever existed not suited for a work of fiction but only for medical & psychical study.

All such subjects repel me. Yet your descriptions of Dutch town & country life are so charming, that if you would be content to depict [4] normal life — normal lives ^minds — you would stand in the first rank of European writers.

How sad that our dear friend Myers⁴ went a little before his time & could not even finish & bring out his book himself! I have not seen the book yet, & have no time to read it, as all my time is taken up writing a book myself. When you next come to England I hope you will come & see us here for a day or two.

Believe me | Yours very truly | Alfred R. Wallace. [signature]