Jungle Tales — A Reader’s Guide
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OPINIONS OF THE PRESS
“Mrs. Croker has already achieved a secure foothold in that temple of Anglo-Indian fiction whereof Mr. Rudyard Kipling is the high-priest. Her tales have a freshness and piquancy that are all their own.... So long as the author of ‘Diana Barrington’ can produce works of the quality of ‘Village Tales and Jungle Tragedies,’ she will assuredly not lack an audience.”--_Athenæum._
“These tales are really original and excellent work. Mrs. Croker knows her India minutely, and proves her knowledge by a thousand delicate touches.”--_Woman._
“Mrs. Croker writes of India as one knowing it well, and with deep sympathy for the people among whom her time was spent, for the village sorrows and tragedies she was able to share. And in a considerable measure she succeeds in bringing home to readers at home the daily life of the East.”--_Glasgow Herald._
“The stories are all written from a peculiar knowledge of the life they describe, and with a lively eye directed to its picturesqueness. They make an interesting and entertaining book, which will be heartily enjoyed by every one who reads it.”--_Scotsman._
“The magician’s car of fiction next transports us to India, the magician being that very competent and attractive writer Mrs. B. M. Croker. Her ‘Village Tales’ are so good that they bracket her, in our judgment, with Mrs. F. A. Steel in comprehension of native Indian life and character.”--_Times._
“Mrs. Croker makes the tales interesting and attractive, and her ready sympathy with the Indian people, whom we are gradually coming to know through the interpretation of some of our very best writers, strikes the reader afresh in this volume.”--_World._
“Mrs. Croker shows once more a pretty talent, and her volume is replete with sentiment and romance. Her animal stories are really touching.”--_Globe._
“Mrs. Croker’s volume is bright and readable. She has done good work already in other fields; one expects a story of hers to be at any rate pleasant reading. These Indian tales are no exception.”--_North British Mail._
“Mrs. Croker’s stories show her grasp of Indian character, and her realisation of the nameless charm which casts its glamour over the East and its peoples.... ‘Two Little Travellers,’ the last story, is exquisitely pathetic.”--_Star._
“The stories are among the best of their kind. The author knows equally well how to write of Anglo-Indian or purely native life.”--_Morning Post._
“Mrs. Croker, who knows India exceptionally well, and is a practised writer, has handled this variety of subjects in a spirited and entertaining style.”--_Literary World._
“A prettily got-up book containing seven Indian tales, well told, with abundant evidence of a thorough knowledge of the country and its people.... There is not a dull line in the book, and in its perusal the desire for more keeps growing, even to the end of the last beautiful tale of Indian life.”--_Asiatic Quarterly Review._
“Mrs. Croker’s seven little tales of native India are such very quick and easy reading that many persons will probably overlook the skill to which the result is due. The authoress evidently knows both what a short story ought to be, and how to make one.”--_Graphic._
“Brilliant pictures of Indian life and manners. Mrs. Croker possesses the pen of a ready writer united to the imagination of a true artist.”--_Liberal._
“The tales are simple in themselves and plainly told, with an unmistakable atmosphere of truth and reality about them.”--_Guardian._
“The quality of Mrs. Croker’s work is at this time sufficiently well known, and it is enough to say that in her last volume are to be found all those qualities which have secured for its predecessors a welcome at the hands of the public.”--_Tablet._
‘_Pretty Miss Neville_,’ ‘_Diana Barrington_,’ ‘_The Spanish Necklace_,’ ‘_In Old Madras_,’ _etc._
A NEW IMPRESSION WITH A FRONTISPIECE BY JOHN CHARLTON
LONDON HOLDEN & HARDINGHAM 1913
“Ah! what a warning for thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed!” Wordsworth.
THESE TALES ARE INSCRIBED TO OLD FRIENDS IN THE CENTRAL AND NORTH-WEST PROVINCES IN MEMORY OF MANY PLEASANT HOURS IN CAMP AND CANTONMENT. B. M. C.
PAGE A Free-Will Offering 1 “The Missus.” A Dog Tragedy 37 The Betrayal of Shere Bahadur 63 “Proven or not Proven?” The True Story of Naim Sing, Rajpoot 96 An Outcast of the People 124 An Appeal to the Gods 146 Two Little Travellers 166
VILLAGE TALES AND JUNGLE TRAGEDIES.
A FREE-WILL OFFERING.
Croker opens 'Jungle Tales' with a courtroom scene that immediately establishes her narrative range. The trial of Naim Sing unfolds through a voice that oscillates between legal reportage and dramatic oratory: 'During his speech, one could almost hear a leaf fall outside the court.' The prose tightens around the condemned man's eloquence—'his silver tongue afforded but yet another proof of his identity'—before pulling back to a measured, almost anthropological summary of the case's enduring controversy. This interplay between intimate drama and distanced commentary recurs throughout the collection.
Voice and the Shifting Register
Croker's narrative voice is not uniform. In 'An Outcast of the People,' she adopts a simpler, more folkloric register: 'Jasoda was seventeen years of age, and fair as a sunrise on the snows.' The sentences are shorter, the imagery more direct, and the tone carries a note of fatalism. By contrast, the Naim Sing story employs a formal, almost legalistic vocabulary—'the culprit was sentenced for the second time on the same spot to be transported beyond the seas'—before rising to a theatrical pitch. This register shift is not arbitrary; it mirrors the social distance between the narrator and the subjects. When Croker writes of village life, she leans into the rhythms of oral storytelling; when she depicts institutional power, her prose becomes more Latinate and measured.
Pace and the Management of Suspense
Croker controls pace through sentence length and paragraph breaks. In the trial scene, she builds tension with a series of short, declarative clauses: 'His fate was sealed. Fearing a public tumult, he was removed secretly ere dawn.' The rhythm accelerates, then halts on a longer, summarizing sentence: 'So ended a trial that lasted many days, that was more discussed and fought over than any law-suit of the period.' This pattern—rapid action followed by reflective pause—recurs in 'An Outcast of the People,' where Jasoda's childhood happiness is compressed into a few lines, then shattered by a single sentence: 'But one rains he died, and there was sore, sore lamentation.' The abrupt shift in pace mirrors the sudden reversals that define her characters' lives.
Recurring Details and the Weight of Objects
Croker uses material details to anchor her narratives. In the trial, the condemned man's 'silver tongue' is both a literal attribute and a piece of evidence turned against him. In Jasoda's story, her ornaments—'a big nose-ring, anklets, and bangles—not brass or pewter, but real silver ones'—signal her status before they are stripped away. These objects are not mere decoration; they carry legal and social weight. The widow's shorn head and coarse white cloth are described with the same precision as the courtroom's 'immense sea of human heads.' Croker's eye for such details gives her fiction a documentary texture, even as her voice remains that of a storyteller shaping events for effect.
Readers will find that Croker's collection rewards attention to its shifts in register and pace. The stories are best approached not as a unified whole but as a series of experiments in narrative distance—sometimes close and sympathetic, sometimes cool and forensic. The excerpts suggest a writer who knows her settings intimately but chooses to foreground the act of telling itself.
Reading Croker’s sharp little tales of outcasts and courtroom reckonings, I found myself thinking how often justice arrives sideways, wearing an unfamiliar face. It reminded me of my old dog-eared copy of The Kings of the East: A Romance of the Near Future — Reading Notes, where the future feels less like a promise and more like a slow, patient echo of everything we’ve already lost.
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