June 1959
In spite of all we hear of Hollywood, it hardly ever gets written about at this level of brilliance and detachment. The people in these seven stories read like the ingredients of a strong and extraordinary cocktail, so skilfully mixed up are they, so well iced by Mr. Lambert’s observation and wit, and presented in the tantalisingly small quantity of the short story. Illusion and confusion reign: thus the title story is about California’s slipping coast-line where old ladies picnicking suddenly find themselves half buried many feet below, whereas in The End of the Line a blind old countess is under the impression that she is touring Europe when in reality she is safe at home listening to appropriate sound effects played and made to her by her parsimonious nieces.
There is also a devastating portrait of an imperishable star (the only character, I feel, who got a little under Mr. Lambert’s skin) and another about the teenage girl who comes on a bus three days from Illinois, and proceeds to drift gently downstream of her illusions - here the irony is less biting, almost tender, and reminds one a little of Salinger. These and other people are linked together by the author, who as a script writer observes them all on their separate little stages built to look like homes which are designed to look like sets on a stage: this confusion of reality and dreams is the real thread of the collection for none of these people can distinguish one from the other, any more than the old ladies knew that they were sitting on an avalanche; and it is the extremes of their uncertainty that Mr. Lambert explores, introducing here a miniature spectacle which one can enormously enjoy at the civilised distance his detachment provides.