Diana's father refuses to think about woman suffrage. "I don't have to think about something I _feel_. I tell you, if we had woman suffrage, women would all vote like their husbands." "They say it would double the ignorant vote," answers Diana's friend, Peter, the journalist, who has encouraged her in rebelling. "He's a good-natured old fossil," Peter says later to Diana. And when the girl insists that she loves her father anyhow, Peter says, "I love radishes, but they don't agree with me. If he had a new idea he'd die of dropsy." The result of Diana's visit is to produce certain rebellions in her mother, who goes back to New York with her to help make a home of that lonely little flat, and to revive her own early ambitions as a painter. Later the father succumbs to the new order. It is all good "comedy"; also it's tremendously good thinking. If only it could be read by all the people who misunderstand the surging modern spirit that is riding so bravely through traditions and inheritances. But _Nowadays_ has another value besides that of its story. It is made of the stuff of the new drama; it fulfills our demand that the theatre shall give us the truth about life in a simple way. However, we shall talk more about this in another issue. Our Mr. Wrenn and Us _Our Mr. Wrenn_, by Sinclair Lewis. [Harper and Brothers, New York.] The poverty of American workaday criticism has rarely shown more threadbare than in the fact that of all the reviews of _Our Mr. Wrenn_, a first novel by Sinclair Lewis, a new author, not one has mentioned the idea under the book. They have been good reviews, too, as reviews go. Many have praised the book, have talked around it, described its characters, attempted to classify it--under names so various as Locke, Wells, and Dickens. Yet so expected is the novel that means nothing, and so dead is critical vision, that no one has thought to say "Here is a new American writer. What is in his soul?" Let me prove the point. "Our Mr. Wrenn" is a mouse-like little clerk in the office of a New York novelty company. He is called "Our Mr. Wrenn" in business correspondence by the manager of the firm. He is overshadowed by "the job." He lives uncomfortably in Mrs. Zapp's downtown boarding house. Because the author can see, various figures from the drab stream one meets in the street are made human. Because the author has whimsicality and scorn and sympathy, the book has humor and satire and pathos. All these things have been noted by the critics.