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Grex > Books > #99: The Spring Mysterious Quote item | |
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| Author |
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| 25 new of 215 responses total. |
lynne
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response 95 of 215:
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May 8 14:44 UTC 2001 |
right on both counts! (hmph. didn't think it was *that* easy.) <shrug>
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aruba
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response 96 of 215:
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May 8 19:55 UTC 2001 |
Ack. And I actually quoted from that same book in the mystery quote before,
but I didn't remember anything about nudist vegetarians. You'd think that
would stick in my mind.
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sekari
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response 97 of 215:
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May 8 21:06 UTC 2001 |
I thought it sounded vaguely like dorothy sayers, but for some reason that
seemed too obvious of a choice.
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davel
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response 98 of 215:
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May 9 12:43 UTC 2001 |
Well, I'm pretty familiar with the book (though it's probably been a decade
since I last read it). I have to admit that for the first bit I was muttering
"I *know* this quote, but who is it?" ... until about the time the name
"Harriet" appeared; I was getting it, but the name confirmed it.
A quote should appear in due course. I don't have anything suitable at hand.
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lynne
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response 99 of 215:
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May 9 14:52 UTC 2001 |
It *is* an excellent book quotewise. Very little of what I read these days
is suitable for quoting: either too trite or too well-known. (Or too
esoteric except that eeyore, flem, or swa is certain to recognize it, which
defeats the whole purpose, eh?)
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davel
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response 100 of 215:
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May 10 23:42 UTC 2001 |
OK, here's the next quote. You may not be surprised to learn that it was
suggested, by association, by the last one. But the author is different -
and, I think, the parody more specifically pointed.
"Please permit me a slight digression. At College we
have a flourishing Musical Society, which in recent years has
grown in numbers to such an extent that it can now tackle the
less monumental symphonies. In the year of which I speak, it
was embarking on a very ambitious enterprise. It was going to
produce a new opera, a work by a talented young composer whose
name it would not be fair to mention, since it is now well-known
to you all. Let us call him Edward England. I've forgotten the
title of the work, but it was one of these stark dramas of tragic
love which, for some reason I've never been able to understand,
are supposed to be less ridiculous with a musical accompaniment
than without. No doubt a good deal depends on the music.
"I can still remember reading the synopsis while waiting
for the curtain to go up, and to this day have never been able
to decide whether the libretto was meant seriously or not.
Let's see--the period was the late Victorian era, and the
main characters were Sarah Stampe, the passionate postmistress,
Walter Partridge, the saturnine gamekeeper, and the squire's son,
whose name I forget. It's the old story of the eternal triangle,
complicated by the villager's resentment of change--in this case,
the new telegraph system, which the local crones predict will Do
Things to the cows' milk and cause trouble at lambing time.
"Ignoring the frills, it's the usual drama of operatic
jealousy. The squire's son doesn't want to marry into the Post
Office, and the gamekeeper, maddened by his rejection, plots
revenge. The tragedy rises to its dreadful climax when poor Sarah,
strangled with parcel tape, is found hidden in a mailbag in the
Dead Letter Department. The villagers hang Partridge from the
nearest telegraph pole, much to the annoyance of the linesmen.
He was supposed to sing an aria while he was being hung: _that_
is one thing I regret missing. The squire's son takes to drink,
or the Colonies, or both: and that's that.
"I'm sure you're wondering where all this is leading: please
bear with me for a moment longer. The fact is that while this
synthetic jealousy was being rehearsed, the real thing was going
on back-stage. Fenton's friend Kendall had been spurned by the
young lady who was to play Sarah Stampe. I don't think he was a
particularly vindictive person, but he saw an opportunity for a
unique revenge. Let us be frank and admit that college life _does_
breed a certain irresponsibility--and in identical circumstances,
how many of us would have rejected the same chance?
"I see the dawning comprehension on your faces. But we,
the audience, had no suspicion when the overture started on that
memorable day. It was a most distinguished gathering: everyone
was there, from the Chancellor downwards. Deans and professors
were two a penny: I never did discover how so many people had
been bullied into coming. Now that I come to think of it,
I can't remember what I was doing there myself.
"The overture died away amid cheers, and, I must admit,
occasional cat-calls from the more boisterous members of the
audience. Perhaps I do them an injustice: they may have been
the more musical ones.
(The quotation marks are in the original, as this is not narration but
a character's speech. There is no close quote because I did not reach
the end of the embedded quotation.)
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brighn
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response 101 of 215:
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May 10 23:44 UTC 2001 |
Utterly wild guess, almost certainly wrong: Evelyn Waugh
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i
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response 102 of 215:
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May 11 00:09 UTC 2001 |
Arthur C. Clark, _Silence Please_, (c)1954
Collected in _Tales from the "White Hart"_
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aruba
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response 103 of 215:
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May 11 01:53 UTC 2001 |
Darn, Walter beat me by 2 hours.
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davel
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response 104 of 215:
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May 11 10:19 UTC 2001 |
Clarke (not Clark) is correct. Waugh is not.
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brighn
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response 105 of 215:
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May 11 13:58 UTC 2001 |
It sounds more like Waugh than Clarke... Clarke is usually dry.
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aquarum
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response 106 of 215:
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May 11 16:06 UTC 2001 |
I may have to go track that down now, just to hear the end of the story...
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gelinas
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response 107 of 215:
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May 11 16:54 UTC 2001 |
I've enjoyed the tales from the White Hart, but I didn't recognise that one.
I guess it's time to read them again. :)
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aruba
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response 108 of 215:
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May 11 18:36 UTC 2001 |
Re #15: Paul - Tales from the White Hart is Clarke's explicit attempt to mix
scifi with humor. Every story is a tale told in a bar about some dubious
scientific achievement.
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brighn
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response 109 of 215:
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May 11 18:41 UTC 2001 |
Joseph posted #15, way back in March, and it nothing at all to do with Clarke.
;}
I may check it out. When I was a Fine Young Lad and read dry sci-fi, Clarke
was on my regular reading list (as were Asimov, Heinlein, and Bradbury, not
all of whom are dry all the time). Then I became an Angry Young Man and
immersed myself in the works of Waugh, Parker, and Huxley. From Rama to Gaza
in a handful of years.
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gelinas
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response 110 of 215:
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May 12 00:42 UTC 2001 |
{I forgot to change my name here, didn't I? Most folks call me "Joe."}
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brighn
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response 111 of 215:
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May 12 02:52 UTC 2001 |
(Where you goin' with that gun in your hand?)
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i
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response 112 of 215:
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May 12 11:36 UTC 2001 |
(s lark/larke/? - drat!)
I've got a long weekend of family stuff coming up & may or may not manage
to log in. Could someone who hasn't been up in a while take this and enter
a quote?
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carson
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response 113 of 215:
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May 12 18:14 UTC 2001 |
(if no one minds, I'd like to post the next quote.)
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aruba
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response 114 of 215:
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May 12 18:22 UTC 2001 |
Go for it.
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carson
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response 115 of 215:
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May 12 18:23 UTC 2001 |
The next morning he almost didn't get up at the sound of the pickup.
He could feel, even before he came fully awake, how tired he still was.
But May Belle was grinning at him, propped up on one elbow. "Ain't 'cha
gonna run?" she asked.
"No," he said, shoving the sheet away. "I'm gonna fly."
Because he was more tired than usual, he had to push himself harder.
He pretended that Wayne Pettis was there, just ahead of him, and he had to
keep up. His feet pounded the uneven ground, and he thrashed his arms
harder and harder. He'd catch him. "Watch out, Wayne Pettis," he said
between his teeth. "I'll get you. You can't beat me."
"If you're so afraid of the cow," the voice said, "why don't you just
climb the fence?"
He paused in midair like a stop-action TV shot and turned, almost
losing his balance, to face the questioner, who was sitting on the fence
nearest the old Perkins place, dangling bare brown legs. The person had
jaggedy brown hair cut close to its face and wore one of those blue
undershirtlike tops with faded jeans cut off above the knees. He couldn't
honestly tell whether it was a girl or a boy.
"Hi," he or she said, jerking his or her head toward the Perkins place.
"We just moved in."
---
(have at it.)
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slynne
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response 116 of 215:
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May 13 17:00 UTC 2001 |
Heh. I thought I might have read this book and I have but since I had to
do a web search to remember the title and author's name, I wont answer
this time :)
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carson
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response 117 of 215:
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May 13 18:36 UTC 2001 |
(uh oh.) :^)
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davel
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response 118 of 215:
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May 14 12:26 UTC 2001 |
Hmmm. Zenna Henderson? 8-{)]
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carson
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response 119 of 215:
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May 14 15:37 UTC 2001 |
(not Zenna Henderson. the author is fairly prolific, but this is an
excerpt from one of the author's better-known works. I'll work up
another passage from the book tomorrow if no one has guessed by then.)
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