I read the edition published in 1982 by Viking Press. My local library (Harborfields Public Library, Greenlawn, New York) had this. It's a marvelous hI read the edition published in 1982 by Viking Press. My local library (Harborfields Public Library, Greenlawn, New York) had this. It's a marvelous hardcover, with maps of the fictional Malgudi as endpapers. I will note a little list on the map: Srinivasa's Historical Periods 1) Tigers in Mempi Hills 2) Market Road a jungle pass 3) Sri Rama creates Sarayu River 4) Buddha preaches outside village 5) Shankara teaches by Sarayu 6) East India Company 7) Gandhi speaks, 1937 8) Independence, August 15, 1947 None of these events is specifically detailed in any of these stories, but all of them more or less loom in the background. These stories take place after independence was achieved - or do they? The characters are often elderly, and they are caught between eras. These elders often reflect on deeds committed when they were very young, and they behave in old age almost as if a seismic change has not occurred. While it is obvious, from references to particular technology or people (space flight; John F. Kennedy) that these are stories of independent India, the stamp of British colonialism has so shaped the lives of the characters that it is, in many instances, beside the point if the characters are pleased about independence. Many seem not to think of it at all. While this bolsters the stories' universality, it also matches some of the tone of Joyce's DUBLINERS. The characters in that book are thoroughly colonialized as well, although on the brink of the independence MOST of Ireland achieved. Do consider this. The island of Ireland is still not entirely independent. MALGUDI DAYS has something else in common with Joyce's world: Most of the characters are not doing backbreaking work. As poor as most of the people in MALGUDI DAYS are, they tend to have either fled farm life or to have spent their entire lives as street vendors, circus people or people who do odd jobs. These characters are as colorful as the tramps in O. Henry. Poverty is on parade, but the misery of grinding labor is off stage. Name me a coal minor in in ULYSSES. Find one in MALGUDI DAYS. I make this point because, if one dismisses Joyce because he's not Zola, depicting the day to day horrors of the world of manual labor, you may as well dismiss one of the best short story writers of the twentieth century, R. K. Narayan. As picaresque as this story collection is, it does, indeed, convey a country still dazed after the boot heel has been lifted. Each story in MALGUDI DAYS is miniaturist. You read, say, "Selvi," and, at first, you say, "That's your show-biz story." But you keep thinking about it the next day, as I did, and you realize it's also about what makes people look for the divine. (Without giving it away, a Svengali takes a naive girl and turns her into a pop icon, but in the meantime she has become the subject of almost religious adulation. Her Svengali is flummoxed by this.) The story is narrated somewhat like a fairy tale, but it is very knowing about the film industry, commerce and hucksterism. But it is also clearly a story about India's break from Britain. Britain doesn't need to be mentioned here. The man who shapes thew young woman into an icon moves her into the abandoned mansion of a British magistrate. It is obvious that the manager, although Indian himself, is part and parcel of the pre-1947 world. The young woman, who people travel from all over the country to see, is not only independent India, but a stand-in for a goddess who was there before the British intruded. It is also a poetic story, as are all the stories in this book. One thing I took note of reading this book is that, while it deals with many of the themes Salman Rushdie deals with, it is written in such a way that it never shocks. R. K. Narayan was born in 1906. He started writing at a time when euphemism was not only very refined but necessary for an author's survival. Salman Rushdie is a Baby Boomer. That generation has known nothing but shock. This is not to say Rushdie favors gratuitous violence, but that his generation - and I am part of that generation, although born at the tail-end of it - can really write ONLY about shocking things. I am an American. But the traits of the Boomer are shared worldwide. Stephen King, Boomer extraordinaire, is probably the greatest horror writer since Edgar Allen Poe. But you can take a Poe story and read it outloud to anyone without fearing that you'll offend them. When you read a chapter from a Stephen King novel outloud, you will find yourself wondering if someone will be bothered by the subject matter. And yet, Poe and King deal with the same subject matter. My point is this: MALGUDI DAYS deals with genuinely awful things without allowing the reader to feel hopeless. Every single time I thought Narayan was about to prove me wrong; when I thought he was about to describe a horror he'd pointed to, he steered me to safety. But this quality is not evasion. There is a story about hoodwinking people into sterilization. Narayan points out that India was becoming increasingly frightened at its population explosion. A man is offered something like half a year's wages if he will take a ride with a man who will take him to where he'll be paid. The reader begins to realize that the goal is to meet a sterilization quota. But because Narayan is of his generation, he refuses to immerse us in the horror. He lets us know that this is a real thing he's alluding to. I had forgotten how powerful mere suggestion can be in fiction. Narayan doesn't need to bathe us in our fears. He acknowledges them and tells what sounds like a fairy tale but which is, almost always, a story about right and wrong in a world which is very real. There is murder, suicide, all sorts of cheating. There is ridiculous bureaucracy, detailed in two stories as, literally, the refusal, by every government agency and charitable organization, to remove two extremely heavy inanimate objects. There are drudges galore and the petty tyrants who pay starvation wages. There are husbands prone to sudden bursts of violence against their wives. There are mothers trying to arrange their children's marriages. Many characters confess their misdeeds to passing strangers. Almost every authority figure, religious, secular, military or otherwise, has something of the charlatan about him. Almost anyone in power is at someone else's mercy. Almost every victim can be an overlord. And yet, the overwhelming theme is that systemic inequality so dictates the lives of the characters that they can hardly recognize that their country has won independence. ...more
Earlier this year, I read the novels which comprise Chinua Achebe's Africa Trilogy: THINGS FALL APART; NO LONGER AT EASE and THE ARROW OF GOD. They arEarlier this year, I read the novels which comprise Chinua Achebe's Africa Trilogy: THINGS FALL APART; NO LONGER AT EASE and THE ARROW OF GOD. They are rewarding books, but the reader must pay close attention. Achebe describes a world of such particularity that literal descriptions sometimes seem metaphorical. Tribal culture clashes with the modern world and yet, Achebe often shows how canny an oppressed people can be in opposition to an imperial power's institutional might. Writing from the point of view of the colonized, Achebe can speak for the oppressed. Most literature dealing with colonialism before Achebe was written from the point of view of Europeans in colonized lands. Achebe's novels tend to be corrective. He fills in the gaps Conrad and Graham Greene leave out. But the 1972 collection GIRLS AT WAR AND OTHER STORIES, made up of short fiction Achebe wrote from youth through middle age, during which time he became a lauded figure worldwide, shows him writing for an audience which expects no explanations. Having read the three novels I've mentioned, I will say I was prepared for details in GIRLS AT WAR which might otherwise have mystified me. Nevertheless, I believe this collection would make a better start for a reader new to Achebe than his novels. His range is great. That it is contained in a collection of only 128 pages is unsurprising, given that each story in it is quite different from the others and yet has the trait each story here shares: Brevity. If a detail confuses the reader a bit, the reader ought to bear in mind that Achebe's novels clarify these things. These stories are entertaining and evocative. They are closer to in spirit to Chekov than to O. Henry. As with Chekov, they are thoughtful. As with O. Henry, they are fun. They make a point....more
The edition I read was the one published in the United States by Viking. At the tale-end of the book industry's golden era, this edition was printed oThe edition I read was the one published in the United States by Viking. At the tale-end of the book industry's golden era, this edition was printed on very sturdy paper. Each story title had an ornate design below it and the jacket was in shades of green and gold, with white lettering. It did not look like what's shown in the thumbnail on Goodreads. To the book itself. R.K. Narayan gathered these stories in 1985, when he was almost 80 years old. He states in his introduction that the stories here were from the previous four decades. Two of them were written in 1985. Most of the stories are between four and seven pages. Some of the very short ones are fairly clearly the work of a newspaperman; these seem to be on a par with O. Henry. Chekov, of course, was a newspaperman as well, and the story "Dodu" is as much a masterpiece of compression as anything Chekov produced. It is deeper than many of the other stories. Its focus on a boy with ambition and imagination is compelling, and it becomes poignant as his family's conformity manifests itself. But there's more to the story than that, and it is achieved in a mere six pages. The centerpiece of this collection is 'Annamalai," the story of a master and servant. It is narrated by a well-off single man of indeterminate age and an elderly man who offers to tend to his garden for room and board. What strikes me is that, as sympathetic as the narrator is toward his servant, the cultural gap between the two men keeps the narrator from being able to help the servant at a crucial moment. It is the most detailed character study in the book. At twenty-six pages, it reads like a short novella, as opposed to a long short story. A shocking moment of modernity comes through this tale which otherwise reads like a folk-tale. The servant, Annamalai, comes home after a night of chatting with friends. The narrator tells us: "I asked casually, 'What is your news today?' and he answered without stopping, 'News? I don't go hunting for it, but I overheard that the chief ruler of America was killed today. They said something like Kannady [which means glass in Tamil]; could any man give himself such a name?' "When I realized the import of his casual reference, I said, 'Look, was it Kennedy?' "'No, they said Kannady, and someone shot him with a gun and killed him, and probably they have already cremated him.' When I tried to get more news, he brushed me off with 'Don't think I go after gossip, I only tell you what approaches my ears...and they were all talking...' "'Who?' I asked. "'I don't know who they are. Why should I ask for names? They all sit and talk, having nothing else to do.'" This story was published in ENCOUNTER, according to the copyright page, and I think ENCOUNTER was an American magazine. A few other stories in UNDER THE BANYAN TREE hint at particular political moments, but as an American, the one moment which was thrown into high relief for me was Kennedy's death on November 22nd, 1963. While most of the stories make passing reference to the railroad or to transportation by bus, there are only a few to which I can point which seem definitely to occur after Indian independence: "Half A Rupee Worth," about a successful purveyor of rice who finds himself suddenly having to yield to government price controls is one, "Nitya" another (if only because the main character is a young man whose parents want him to get his very long hair cut) and "Annamalai," which obviously happens during and after 1963. "Another Community" takes place at a named time, "October, 1947." Its main character is alarmed that there are secret meetings in his town. He is dreading the coming of October 29th, less than a week away. Narayan starts the story with references to newspapers love of the phrases "One Community" and "Another Community." A Google search tells me the Indo-Pakistani War of 1947-1948 began on October 22nd of 1947. India became independent at midnight on August 15th, 1947. A reader from India would have a better idea than I of the significance of the upheaval in late October, 1947 which the main character is panicked about. My main point is that the reference to John F. Kennedy in "Annamalai" reached me in a way I think many of the other stories could have reached me had I a sense of 20th century Indian history. There is a humanism in this collection which shines throughout. A theme is the individual's attempts to maintain dignity under every circumstance.
While I read the vast bulk of these stories in their component volumes (21 STORIES, UNDER THE GARDEN, MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND? and THE LAST WORD) IWhile I read the vast bulk of these stories in their component volumes (21 STORIES, UNDER THE GARDEN, MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND? and THE LAST WORD) I did sneak a look at this gigantic compilation so as to read a story which hadn't made any previous collection. Actually, three other stories which this volume claims were never previously collected DO appear, snuck into COLLECTED STORIES which Graham Greene himself compiled in 1972. (And I do mean "snuck" in; the three extra stories suddenly became part of UNDER THE GARDEN in its COLLECTED STORIES incarnation. If you get a stand-alone copy of UNDER THE GARDEN, though, you'll find those stories aren't in it. So, to be clear, three of the four stories which COMPLETE SHORT STORIES says appear in book-form for the first time in COMPLETE SHORT STORIES actually first appeared in book-form in the UNDER THE GARDEN section of COLLECTED STORIES.) Having now read ALL Green's stories I can say he achieves mastery with his 1967 book of stories, MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND? Just as Joyce's DUBLINERS has a theme, MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND? is made up of themed stories. Greene wrote that he devised those stories just for that book. This may be a key to its success. His other three collections are, indeed, collections. MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND? is made up of stories written one after the other for the book. My feeling is that, as good as any one story in his other collections is, none of them reaches the height of the story "May We Borrow Your Husband?" I am of the opinion that MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND? is the best book he ever wrote. I've read all of his novels. And, as I've said, I've now read all the stories. If he'd never published the book MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND? I'm not certain I would rate any of the other story collections as on a par with the novels THE POWER AND THE GLORY, THE HONORARY CONSUL or THE COMEDIANS. But Greene sets the bar very high. He is generally brief and to the point, but in his longer stories he is still aware of the merit of the one-two-punch. He continually startles the reader. COMPLETE SHORT STORIES has the merit of preserving the four collections Greene saw in his lifetime. Penguin Books has wisely not chosen to re-arrange the story order of any one of the four original volumes. The four previously uncollected stories are placed at the end (although, as I've said, three of them WERE previously collected.) If you are going to read only a few, the best stories are: "Cheap In August," "The Basement Room," "The End Of The Party," "The Destructors," "The Lottery Ticket" "May We Borrow Your Husband?" and one, the title of which I cannot conjure, about a Swiss doctor and a leper....more
The last of Graham Greene's books published in his lifetime was this collection of stories. It came out in 1990 and he died the next year. His prefaceThe last of Graham Greene's books published in his lifetime was this collection of stories. It came out in 1990 and he died the next year. His preface ends with this paragraph:
The earliest story in this volume, "The New House", was published in 1929 in the OXFORD OUTLOOK. Why was it ever published, some may reasonably ask? The answer is a very simple one - I was the editor of the OUTLOOK.
There you have it: Graham Greene was witty and self-deprecating to the end. This collection focuses mainly on stories from the 1940s and late 1980s, but, indeed, as Greene's preface makes clear, it dips into his early output. The 1960s and '70s have been skipped altogether. The title story is representative Greene and is from 1988. The other two very late ones are "The Moment Of Truth," which seemed to me oversubtle and "An Old Man's Memory," which I didn't like but which is certainly in a mode Greene used fairly often in the eighties, a dismissive mode. This story is quite brief. 1955's "The Man Who Stole The Eiffel Tower" is also brief, and thank God. Greene is often witty, but his humorous fantasies are forced. I think "The Lottery Ticket," from 1947, is marvelous. In his preface, Greene says he left it out of 1972's COLLECTED STORIES because it was quite similar in tone to his 1940 novel THE POWER AND THE GLORY and the travelogue from that time, THE LAWLESS ROADS. But though I recognized the similarities without having read the preface (which I saved for last) I thought it held up very well and that it added something to Greene's ultimate statement on Mexico. "An Appointment With The General" is Greene at his sardonic best. Most of these stories are quite short, but Greene was a master of compression. If most of these are not profound, they make their points truthfully. I thought the story from 1929, "Murder For the Wrong Reason", was overlong, but there is something haunting about that early phase of his career, before Marxism or religion caught him. (His novel from that year, THE MAN WITHIN, is pastoral, and I recommend it.) Two stories published at the height of World War Two, "The News in English" and "The Lieutenant Died Last" are quite good. Graham Greene was an incomparable stylist. Of the stories in this collection, the only one I think is great is "The Lottery Ticket." But this is not a themed collection. (For one of the best themed volume of short stories ever published, read MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND?) Though some of these stories are not quite what they could be, they are the work of a very congenial writer.
This story collection, published in 1967, when Graham Greene was in his early sixties, is probably his most consistent. 21 STORIES is quite stunning iThis story collection, published in 1967, when Graham Greene was in his early sixties, is probably his most consistent. 21 STORIES is quite stunning in its range, A SENSE OF REALITY is a bit too steeped in fantasy to highlight Greene's insight into human nature, but MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND (subtitled "& Other Comedies Of The Sexual Life") adheres to a theme Greene had become, in late middle-age, to be quite comfortable with. This is one book in which Greene downplays (almost to the point of eliminating) his penchant for cloak-and-dagger. Thirty years earlier, when he was already an established author, he'd consciously put his comedic tendency aside. It pops up in the forties and begins to glide comfortably in the late 1950s, but in the mid-sixties, Greene fell into stride with the times, allowing comedy and, in particular, sexually knowing comedy, to soar. His most overtly comic novel, TRAVELS WITH MY AUNT, followed this collection in 1969. It's a commonplace to say that Britain went Technicolor in 1963 or so, after all the years of Austerity. I must quote Philip Larkin's lines:
Sexual intercourse began In nineteen sixty-three (which was rather late for me) - Between the end of the "Chatterley" ban And the Beatles' first LP.
The Swinging Sixties gave us a Graham Greene who would have fit into a Pink Panther movie. The characters in these stories tend to move from hotel to hotel, sharing drinks on patios overlooking grand staircases by the sea. Having read all his novels and two of his other story collections (with one to go, the one published just before he died, THE LAST WORD) I can also say that MAY WE BORROW YOUR HUSBAND is essentially the only book he put out dealing in any detail with the reality of homosexuality. Lesbianism is discussed in a coded way in his early 1930s novel STAMBOUL TRAIN, and, in 1978, Greene allows a paragraph (quite literally) about a Soviet spy whose paymasters provide with male companionship, but nowhere else in his fiction (I have not read his criticism or memoirs yet) does he broach the subject. This is most unusual in a mid-twentieth-century author. I do not mean that Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Norman Mailer or, say, Updike, dealt sympathetically with gay characters or themes, but they made a fair amount of passing references to homosexuality. Greene, I think deliberately avoided it, but not for reasons of prudishness or false machismo. I believe that he had affection for oppressed groups. Since, until about the mid-sixties, almost all mainstream writers professed disapproval of homosexuality, Greene's way around the issue was not to mention it at all. I don't even find sublimated gay themes in his books (with, again, the exception of STAMBOUL TRAIN), and when finally gays and lesbians are featured prominently in Greene's fiction, it is in a collection with a title story dealing with the tension between straights and gays. In the five or six years before the Stonewall riots, movies, books and plays were suddenly treating gays and lesbians as if they were three-dimensional people. This had not been the case in middlebrow works until then. (Proust is highbrow and therefore impervious to popular outrage.) I also think that Greene was waiting until his literary skill caught up to his talent for observation before writing these stories. (These stories were all products of the 1960s; it is not a collection of disparate pieces.) It's pretty clear to me Greene was straight (and by all accounts, including his own, highly sexed) but even when he is showing bad people doing bad things and the characters happen to be gay, his is not a voice of condemnation. "May We Borrow Your Husband?" is one of the most realistic stories I've ever read, evocative though it is of its lush surroundings. Again, Britain had gone Technicolor. These stories are highly visual and almost resemble gaudy postcards. I need to point out that Greene IS the British element here. Most of the stories are set in vacation spots far away from the UK. Greene was also dodging taxes, of course, but almost any successful writers, moviemakers or musicians from Britain at that time moved away. He was not an exception in this. Greene converted to Catholicism as a young man and one has to bear in mind that the biblical view of homosexuality was well-known to him. So if he does not seem to condone male homosexuality, it is more that he believes in holding back from temptation and not that he does not understand the temptation. But I am not prepared to say he disapproves of homosexuality. He is nuanced. "May We Borrow Your Husband?" is pretty dispassionate. Its narrator is rather disapproving, but Greene shows the narrator playing his part in the comedy. In another story Greene is quite sympathetic to a lesbian couple. (This is a sympathy he hadn't shown in STAMBOUL TRAIN, that much earlier work.) Greene's great ability with descriptions of landscape is on display here. His world is seen more clearly than almost any other writer's. It is hard to write about walls and lawns and the surf without getting boring. Greene has never bored me when he describes landscape. Almost all other writers do.
Because Graham Greene revised his works with some frequency (mainly for reprints by Viking Press in the sixties and seventies, reprints which often haBecause Graham Greene revised his works with some frequency (mainly for reprints by Viking Press in the sixties and seventies, reprints which often had the addition of a new introduction by the author) I read a version of A SENSE OF REALITY which contained three additional stories which had never before been gathered in a collection. These stories were "The Blessing," "Church Militant" and "Dear Dr Falkenheim." To further complicate things, this version of the collection was first issued only in a 1973 collection containing three collections. It is called COLLECTED STORIES and it was published in 1973 by Viking Press. No explanation is given for the insertion of these three stories in A SENSE OF REALITY section of the book, but dates are given at the end of each of the three added stories, whereas no dates are given at the end of the stories which were originally part of the collection. (To give you an idea of how odd some of the changes Greene made over the years were, he published a collection called NINETEEN STORIES in 1947 or so and then republished it as TWENTY-ONE STORIES in 1954, which, while adding stories, also subtracted one. TWENTY-ONE STORIES itself is sometimes printed with the stories going from the earliest written to the latest, and sometimes from latest to earliest. Greene revised his novels extensively for the Viking reprints as well. So, the first version of A SENSE OF REALITY (published in 1963) contains a novella and three short stories. The novella is "Under The Garden" and the three stories are "A Visit To Morin," "Dream Of A Strange Land" and "A Discovery In The Woods." It seems to me that "Under The Garden" and "A Discovery In The Woods" are companion pieces of a sort. They are speculative; hence the title of the collection. Both excel in descriptions of landscape. Greene is one of the few writers whose descriptions of terrain are essential to the impact of his stories. "A Discovery In The Woods" is, perhaps a comment on LORD OF THE FLIES. Greene's story was published in LONDON MAGAZINE in May, 1963, the novel LORD OF THE FLIES came out in 1954, Peter brooks' film of Golding's novel came out in August of 1963. Obviously the film came out a little later than Greene's story, but there would have been talk of the making of this film and there are several points so similar that I think Greene, who makes points about belief in all his fiction and very clear points about it in this collection, wanted the reader to recognize his story as a comment on LORD OF THE FLIES. In any case, "Under The Garden" and "A Discovery In The Woods" deal with alternate realities. "A Discovery In The Woods" seems to be set in the future. "A Discovery In The Woods" is set, largely (but not entirely) in the dream state. I found myself impatient when "Under The Garden" dealt in detail with alternate reality, but the parts of it dealing with the world as we know it resonated with me. Greene catches the family dynamic very well in the realistic part of the story. Of course, the dream-world is memorably introduced in a description of undergrowth. Greene was a prose poet. "A Discovery In The Woods" had me similarly impatient. It became obvious to me that the characters were several generations in our future and the proofs of this began to bore me. But they served Greene's point, unquestionably. "A Visit To Morin" has Greene in true form. He is funny on the subject of a writer meeting one of his idols, and yet, as is always the case with Greene, a point is made about man's conception of God. "Dream Of A Strange Land" is a very ironic story. Greene has a similar scene in a novel from about thirty years earlier, ENGLAND MADE ME. Both deal with an impoverished, compromised man trying to appeal to an authority. Greene perfects it here. I wouldn't say "A Visit To Morin" or "Dream Of A Strange Land" are overtly about different realities, as the other two stories are, but "A Visit To Morin" certainly deals with how we think of ultimate things. "Dream Of A Strange Land" puts one man in an impossible situation and the other in an intolerable one. The three stories which COLLECTED STORIES added to A SENSE OF REALITY provide comic relief (although, as I've said, "A Visit To Morin" is relatively light.) "The Blessing" seems almost an outtake from THE QUIET AMERICAN. "Church Militant" is more or less a humorous anecdote. I have to say I didn't get the ending. "Dear Dr Falkenheim" is very typical of Greene's mid-1960s mode: He trusts his comic ability will convey his more serious point. It is, indeed, about belief....more
These are stories Graham Greene wrote between 1929 and 1954. Most of them are quite short, some even classify as the work of a miniaturist ("The Case These are stories Graham Greene wrote between 1929 and 1954. Most of them are quite short, some even classify as the work of a miniaturist ("The Case For The Defense," "I Spy," "A Day Saved") but at least one is a novella. (That one is "The Basement Room.") Last year, from May to October, I read every novel Graham Greene ever published. While I was in the midst of doing that, a few people said to me that Greene was a better short story writer than a novelist. Having read his twenty-some novels and TWENTY-ONE STORIES I would say that the stories are tidy in a way the novels are not, but the novels are immersive in a way that the stories are not. A few of the stories are rehearsals for sections of his novels. "A Drive In The Country" is re-worked into a lengthy passage in the novel BRIGHTON ROCK. The results are very different. The stories are polished, but the novels have something none of the stories in this collection have: A geographical presence so particular as to be almost thematic. Greene is a very personable novelist. His opinions intrude and I enjoy his opinions. This may be why many serious readers think his stories are better than his novels. He keeps extraneous material out of the stories. Greene was a very popular writer. Many of his books were adapted into films throughout his lengthy career. (His books were being filmed as early as 1932 and he was still alive in 1987, when his book MONSIGNOR QUIXOTE was filmed.) I point this out because it indicates to me that he strove to make a profit from his writing. Almost all of his novels were adapted for the screen. The short stories, then, show Greene making appearances in magazines. If you buy a novel, you are, in a sense, trusting the author to occupy several hours of your time. If you buy a magazine, however, you are flipping from one article to the next. Greene's stories are written for a wider audience than his novels were written for. He wanted to make a living. He wanted any given magazine's editors to welcome his next submission. So, what we have in Greene's stories is a more public product than the novels. Greene had a responsibility to the magazines which allowed his works within their covers. I have a feeling Greene felt this keenly. The best stories here deal with childhood or teen years: "The Destructors," "The Basement Room" and "The End Of The Party" are very distinctive. I really like "The Hint Of An Explanation." I have to say that "The Basement Room" is the centerpiece of the book. It allows a lot of nuance and it not wrapped in a bow as several of the other stories are. Every story in this collection is worthwhile, but the masterpiece is "The Basement Room." It's a novella, of course, more like his novels than his other stories. I have yet to read Greene's two later collections. I look forward to them, but I imagine my view will be the same: He was a novelist at heart.
TYPHOON AND OTHER STORIES was published in 1902, at tge outset if Joseph Conrad’s career. It should not be confused with a collection made in 2006 or TYPHOON AND OTHER STORIES was published in 1902, at tge outset if Joseph Conrad’s career. It should not be confused with a collection made in 2006 or so, called TYPHOON AND OTHER TALES. Tgst one is fine in itself, but this one, at least after its reprint of 1918, had Conrad’s Author’s Nite, in which he says the stories appear in the irder in which thry were written. The book contains only four stories, Typhoon, Any Foster, Falk: A Reminiscence, and To-Morrow. Even in 1902, to spell “tomorrow” with a hyphen was a bit archaic, but Conrad taps into a fairy tale world of sorts, full, though it is, of physical hardship snd and moral perplexity. Almost any serious admirer of Conrad points out that his writing puts tge reader in an oppressed mood. This is not to say Conrad’s tone is oppressive, but he conveys the weight of a situation in a way fee writers ever have. Three of these stories deal with courtship, not a theme one iften associatrs with this teller if sea tales. He cannot be called feminist, nor can he be called dismissive of women. There is not one woman in Conrad who the reader cannot pity. That Conrad thinks the condition of women is unchangeable is obvious. That he sees tragedy in there lived is unmistakable, though. He is well worth reading. ...more
When Joseph Conrad is mentioned, the idea of him as a chronicler of the evils of imperialism is mixed with the notion of his undeniable bigotry. RarelWhen Joseph Conrad is mentioned, the idea of him as a chronicler of the evils of imperialism is mixed with the notion of his undeniable bigotry. Rarely has an author so clear-eyed about the evil that men do been so comfortable with the idea of racial hierarchy. But Conrad's theme is the isolation of the soul. He is as truthful about that as any literary artist has ever been. TALES OF UNREST is his second published book; a collection of five stories. It was published in 1898, the year he turned 41. He'd been writing for about five years. Conrad is one of the few writers whose achievement as a writer is, indeed, put in relief by the achievements of his life before his writing career commenced. He was born in Poland and, by his teens, was orphaned when his parents, de facto political prisoners, died several years apart in exile. He was sent to live with his aristocratic uncle in Krakow. He went to France to learn about sailing when he was seventeen. By his mid-twenties he had obtained a Master Shipman's certificate in England. For the next twenty years or so, he was the captain of commercial vessels sailing in remote corners of the world. In the last three or four years of his sailing life he wrote stories in his third language, English (which he didn't start learning until he was twenty) and then, under the encouragement of the novelist John Galsworthy, who'd met him as a passenger on a ship Conrad commanded, began submitting them to literary reviews. He retired from the sea, physical ailments dogging him and literary artistry calling him, and inside of a decade became one of the unquestioned masters of the English novel. He wrote HEART OF DARKNESS, LORD JIM and THE SECRET AGENT all before the first decade of the 20th century had ended. THE SECRET AGENT is considered one of the greatest books about terrorism ever written. TALES OF UNREST is mostly made up of stories which appeared in periodicals in the late 1890s. One story in it, though, was one the magazines wouldn't publish, "The Return." We associate Joseph Conrad with the sea or the workings of sinister political movements, but "The Return" is the story of a couple whose marriage is falling apart. If you need proof that Conrad was nuanced, study "The Return." He, of course, is at his best when he describes people in psychological strife while facing tremendous physical hardship. But it's easy to see his stories of men against the elements as simply melodramatic adventures. Read "The Return" if you want to see the minute detail Conrad had at his command without the distraction of his having to describe a ship's hold or craggy road. This collection contains the prototypical Conrad story "An Outpost Of Progress." It may be one of the most influential stories ever written. A 21st-century reader will know almost from the start how it's going to end, but in its short pages, it contains almost everything Graham Greene, for example, ever wound up saying. (And if "The Return" didn't inform Greene's THE END OF THE AFFAIR, well, I'll retract all of this.) There are several motifs throughout this book. people are haunted, at some level, in most of the stories, or, I should say, they feel haunted. Connected to this is doubling. One character mistakes himself, briefly, for another who has just died. One sees himself replicated multiple times in the many mirrored surfaces of a room. For an author who wrote almost exclusively about men, there are a number of confrontations here between men and women. Conrad, in the euphemistic language of the day, indeed deals with sexual congress, either consensual or forced, which is to say he does not shy away from the subject of rape. There is a respect for women in Conrad's work. I hesitate to call it feminism, but he has a sense of the danger many women are surrounded with, a subject most of his contemporaries simply do not discuss. In this book, Conrad broaches the subject of rape within marriage. His attitudes about many things are so outdated as to be shocking. His views of the retarded would make the story "The Idiots" intolerable if it weren't ultimately clear that he thinks the world mistreats them. His attitudes toward anyone other than Europeans are backwards. But it was Conrad, not Henry James, Stephen Crane or James Joyce who pulled the curtain back on the atrocities Europeans were committing against Africans and Asians. Joseph Conrad's writings are still relevant. I'm putting a link here. It leads you to a PDF of Chinua Achebe's 1975 lecture at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, "An Image Of Africa." It addresses Conrad's racism and the western world's reluctance to face it. He stresses that he considers Conrad "undoubtedly one of the great stylists of modern fiction and a good story-teller into the bargain," but that he has profound reservations about Conrad's work, particularly HEART OF DARKNESS. "The question," Achebe writes, "is whether a novel which celebrates...dehumanization, which depersonalizes a portion of the human race, can be called a work of art. My answer is: No, it cannot." https://polonistyka.amu.edu.pl/__data......more
This audiobook of stories by O. Henry was narrated by a dynamic voice-actor, Peter Berkrot. Because he gives voice to O. Henry's humor, a lot of the pThis audiobook of stories by O. Henry was narrated by a dynamic voice-actor, Peter Berkrot. Because he gives voice to O. Henry's humor, a lot of the prose, which, if simply read silently off the printed page, would seem a bit mechanical, pours forth harmoniously. I have kept O. Henry at arm's length ever since childhood, when my aunt gave me a book of his stories. But, I was at the library last week and thought I'd borrow an audiobook, as is my wont. I saw this and gave it a try. There are greater story writers (Guy de Mauppasant, for example) deeper ones (Bret Harte) and, of course, ones whose sense of construction is better (Salinger), but few are as consistent as O. Henry. He can ramble a bit, or rely way too much on coincidence. But he is, somehow, there in front of you as the stories proceed, offering you something he's just fried over a campfire. These stories are, indeed, little gifts. I can imagine him watching us open the packages. I sense these were written for newspapers and that O. Henry's typical reader was somebody stealing a little time before having to go about daily obligations. He came from an age of such writings: Finley Peter Dunne's MISTER DOOLEY stories, basically comic rants on current events by a bartender, were wildly popular, but those dated quickly. O. Henry only SEEMS dated. He is not trying to be a literary impressionist. (Read Hemingway for that.) But he IS trying to show you that forgiveness comes at unexpected moments. It seems to be his major theme. Of all the stories in this collection, only "The Furnished Room" seems to be about hopelessness. Even so, "The Furnished Room" does convey that things shouldn't be the way things are. It masquerades as a ghost story, but it may be the only entirely realistic story O. Henry ever wrote. I guarantee Stephen King is haunted by this story. In any case, O. Henry's stories will tell you something about how people moved around in the America of 1900. They are always taking train rides, steamers, or hoofing it, just out of sight of creditors, lawyers and cops. O. Henry had great affection for what used to be called tramps; that is, the homeless. In his work is the constant appeal, not to sentiment, but to good-heartedness. It was allowed in his era....more
This book appeared on the shelf at Book Mark Cafe, where I was working. I suspected a customer had ordered it, decided not to buy it and that we had bThis book appeared on the shelf at Book Mark Cafe, where I was working. I suspected a customer had ordered it, decided not to buy it and that we had been unable to return it to the publisher. The front cover probably intimidated the person who had been planning to buy it. I can picture him at the register. "I'm here to pick up a book. The name's Jones." "Jones? Here you are, Mr. Jones." "Thank you." "That'll be eight-seventy-nine." "Oh. Oh. Oh." [Sorry, Goodreads readers. I can't make that quotation end with a quotation mark. The result is continually ""." Let's see if """ has kept its quotation marks...Yep!] The customer leaves it on the desk and returns to his creme brulee. (Book Mark Cafe was no mere book store with a cafe. It was a full-fledged French restaurant with a book store.) Whoever has been about to ring up the book puts it in the returns box and whoever deals with returns finds we're stuck with the book and puts it in a to-be-shelved pile. I found it one day while shelving. It was a thin little book with a black and white cover which appeared to be an image from a TV screen of a homoerotic movie. Someone in the picture is about to put his money where his mouth is. It must have shocked the customer who'd been expecting a book of cutting-edge stories. It was my luck to find the book. I opened it up and read a paragraph. I realized this was the sort of writing I live for: Elegant, rather mysterious, a bit austere and dealing with moonlight. I think the publisher is Verso, but if it isn't, it looks like one of Verso's little volumes. [I've checked Goodreads. Passport Books is the publisher.] The paper is cream, the font stylishly straightforward. Marco Denevi is virtually unknown in the United States. I imagine THE REDEMPTION OF THE CANNIBAL WOMAN is hard to find. It came to me like one of those dreams where you trip over a log and your arm shoots up. You wake, but not completely, and fall into the arms of Morpheus. ...more
I won't give this stars because I've only read two stories by Willa Cather. But those stories were great. One is called "Paul's Case." It's been said PI won't give this stars because I've only read two stories by Willa Cather. But those stories were great. One is called "Paul's Case." It's been said Paul is a precursor to Holden Caulfied. It is a story waiting for a movie adaptation. (Nobody's ever filmed CATCHER IN THE RYE, either. Salinger won't let 'em. Good for him. He's showing us the power of books. His book stands entirely on its own.) I have forgotten the title of the other story I'm thinking of, but it involves the funeral of somebody the main character knew long before. It is written with economy and stoicism. ...more
I've read some of these stories. I haven't actually read them in THIS edition. I've generally read them in a multi-volume edition published in the 19tI've read some of these stories. I haven't actually read them in THIS edition. I've generally read them in a multi-volume edition published in the 19th century. They certainly printed durable volumes then. The pages had twilight-blue borders. Among the stories I've read are: "The Murders In The Rue Morgue" "The Tell-Tale Heart" "The Black Cat" "The Cask of Amontillado" "The Masque of the Red Death." Poe is entertaining. On top of this, he was an innovator. He not only, essentially, invented the detective story ("Murders In The Rue Morgue") but he pretty much created the short story itself. He was also a tremendous critic. His criticism shows his urbane side. Poe is not deep. ...more
Bret Harte was contemporaneous with Mark Twain. THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT is a collection of stories about mining camps of the sort which existed in Bret Harte was contemporaneous with Mark Twain. THE OUTCASTS OF POKER FLAT is a collection of stories about mining camps of the sort which existed in great numbers in Harte's lifetime. Beneath the sentimentalism and racial stereotyping there is an understanding of rough-and-tumble loners. One could argue that the theme here is the state of being outcast. If you read nothing else in this book, take a half-hour of your time to read the story "The Luck of Roaring Camp." A baby is born in a mining camp, giving purpose to the lives of the panhandlers, vagrants and ruffians who make up the population. Harte draws frankly on the story of Moses, something Twain would have been loath to do. These stories anticipate every variation of the Western, and Harte bests every practitioner, from Zane Grey to John Ford to Sergio Leone. He was a miniaturist, making him different from his disciples, for whom bloviation was a byword for sincerity....more
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