[In the following review, Eustace offers a negative assessment of Defy the Foul Fiend but admits that Collier's writing evidences genius.]

The writer must confess his abysmal ignorance! Before this book he had never heard of Mr. John Collier. Apparently Mr. Collier has published two other books, both of them highly praised by the reviewers in England. The names of these novels are His Monkey Wife and Tom's A-Cold. We are assured, by the reviewers of both these works, that the writer of them is a man of genius. And yet!

In Defy the Foul Fiend we are allowed a glimpse into the mind of a young man whose amorous adventures are paraded on the housetops for our edification. The mind of the young man is peculiarly degenerate, and as his sponsor into the realms of the written word has not seen fit to make him the victim of pragmatic illusions (in which case we could have sympathized with him, as we did with the protagonist of Joyce's Ulysses), and as his horrid little antics do not seem to be motivated by any higher complex than the complete indulgence of his Freudian urges, we must admit that we did not enjoy him.

Literature being selective as well as eclectic, we would seem justified in stating that the true Rabelaisian was the product of his age. He was a ripe, honest, if somewhat gross and lusty individual whose bawdiness did not offend because much of it came from high-blood pressure. There seems very little excuse for his progressive philandering.

But—it must be said at once—Mr. John Collier can write. His wit is piercing, even if it brings with it, occasionally, the aroma of the latrine. His style is so artificial, and his situations so removed from life, that at times one is tempted to dismiss him lightly. But he makes us think. He is unpleasantly direct. In his way he is a genius, and his book will probably achieve a wide sale in the lending-libraries. This, too, is but further evidence of his wisdom.