Millions of Books Wanted

From Woman’s Weekly, 12th January 1918.

More Millions of Books Wanted!

By MARY MARRYAT.

MY DEAR FRIENDS, —Do you know that from 75,000 to 100,000 books are wanted every week for our brave men in the trenches and camps, for our suffering men in hospitals and convalescent homes, and for the boys in training?  Books of all sorts and sizes, of all kinds, and on every variety of subject.  Some people think that only novels are needed.  This is a mistake.  Books of every sort are welcomed.  Poetry, travels, scientific books — all are of use.  I was told this the other day when I took some to Surrey House, Marble Arch.  This is the headquarters for the gathering of the battalions of books that are being sent to our fighting men.

There is a soldier in the hall of Surrey House.  He will take the books from you.  Around him are packing-cases full of book, and, alas, many empty cases waiting for the books which do not come; for again, alas! the supply DOES NOT NEARLY EQUAL THE DEMAND.  One hundred thousand A WEEK are asked for.  How many, think you, come in?  LESS THAN 30,000 a week!  This is not only sad; it is, I think, a disgrace to us people who are staying at home.  Books are so easy to get— many of them are so cheap.  Do you know that one of those I took to Surrey House I HAD BOUGHT for TWOPENCE at a bookstall!  It was a well-known novel.  It was very shabby, but it was quite complete.  I was ashamed to give it, so I asked the soldier if it was too shabby.  "Oh no!" he said cheerfully.  "They are all useful."

And, remember, there is no need to take the books to Surrey House, nor even to send them there at all.  There is no need to be in London, or anywhere near it.  No matter where you live, from John o' Groats to Land's End, you will find a post office somewhere within hail.  Well, you have but to take your book, or books, or magazines and picture papers—for these, too, are wanted in their thousands—and hand them in at the post office.  You need not wrap them up or tie them together.  Just hand them to the clerk.  He, or she, will do the rest.  From the post office they will safely reach the trenches, or the hospital wards, or the camps—wherever the call for them is the most urgent.  You will all hurry up and send some along, won't you?

Always your friend,

MARY MARRYAT. 

FICKLE AND FAITHLESS.
“PATSIE.” — “Patsie,” to be candid, you are fickle and faithless.  I am speaking my mind straight out, you see.  What else can I think or say when you tell me that you had a sweetheart for three years who had asked you to marry him, and whom you liked sincerely?  Then, suddenly, you came across a handsome Canadian, and at “the first instant you set eyes on him” you knew “he is the boy for me”!  I can't understand such quick changes.  You never can have had any real feeling for your first sweetheart.  I don't think this is honourable conduct.  And apparently the Canadian thinks as I do, for he has gone away, and you have heard nothing from him for three weeks.  Men don't like faithlessness, you know; at least, the best kind of man doesn't.  And this Canadian must have seen how you dropped the other very quickly, for you say you told him all about the sweetheart in France.  The only thing you can do now is to wait, but I fear it will not be a very satisfactory business.

HOW TO GET THIN. 
My advice on this subject to “Worried One,” and other girls of eighteen who beg me to tell them how to get thin, is the same as “Punch’s” “advice to those about to marry”— Don't!  Don't try to get thin, girls — at all events, while you are growing.  And remember that you continue to grow, in height, until you are twenty.  To try to reduce your weight during the years of growth is a very injurious and, maybe, a very dangerous thing.  So, please, young girls, don't ask me any more how you can get thinner.  “Worried One,” thanks very much for your nice letter and complimentary remarks.  Take my advice, and don’t trouble about what these foolish creatures say about your fatness.  They only say the things they do to tease.  If they see you ignore them they will cease their stupid rudeness.  Plump girls are generally more admired than thin ones.

[Mary Marryat was the nominal problem page editor for Woman's Weekly from its beginning in 1913 until at least the 1960s.  Although the column in its later years showed a photo of a friendly-looking middle-aged lady, I strongly suspect that if the original Mary Marryat ever existed, she had long since retired before the column ended. I've included this piece for the appeal for books to send to the troops, and I've also added two of the replies to letters. The war meant new kinds of problems between women and their 'sweethearts' which Mary Marryat had to deal with, as well as as the questions about how to lose weight - still a common concern of women's magazines.]