A Question of Upbringing: A Novel (A Dance to the Music of Time, Book 1)

A Question of Upbringing: A Novel (A Dance to the Music of Time, Book 1)

Anthony Powell

Language: English

Pages: 240

ISBN: 0099472384

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

A Question of Upbringing: A Novel (A Dance to the Music of Time, Book 1)

Anthony Powell

Language: English

Pages: 240

ISBN: 0099472384

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Charles Bukowski (Great Writers)

The New York Times Book Review (15 May 2016)

Simplicissimus

Mercier and Camier

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

slightest question of Widmerpool being bullied, or even seriously ragged about the matter. On the contrary, his deviation seems scarcely to have been mentioned to him, except by cruder spirits: the coat becoming recognised almost immediately as a traditionally ludicrous aspect of everyday life. Years later, if you questioned his contemporaries on the subject, they were vague in their answers, and would only laugh and say that he wore the coat for a couple of terms; and then, by the time winter

reinforcements, apparently trying to avoid any imputation of priggishness. While he did this, his fingers twitched. His hands were small and gnarled, with nails worn short and cracked, as if he spent his spare time digging with them deep down into the soil. Stringham had said that the nails of the saint who had hollowed his own grave without tools might fairly have competed against Widmerpool’s in a manicure contest. If Widmerpool had not developed boils soon after this crumb of praise had been

the other hand, although interest in himself allowed him to show no more than moderate preference towards girls, or anyone else, seemed distinctly inclined towards Suzette. In so much as this allocation could be regarded as in any way part of a system, it also appeared to be absolutely satisfactory to everyone concerned. Indeed, the only person I knew of who might be said to have suffered from emotions that fell within the range of those suggested by Monsieur Dubuisson was myself; because,

moment,” he said. “Miss Weedon very sweetly motored all the way here, in order that we should not have a vacant place at the table.” Sillery did not take this news at all well. There could be no doubt that he was deeply disappointed at Mrs. Foxe’s defection; and that he did not feel Miss Weedon to be, in any way, an adequate substitute for Stringham’s mother. We settled down to a meal that showed no outward prospect of being particularly enjoyable. Stringham himself did not appear in the least

small sum of money. Nothing much. Decent of him to have given me the use of it, all the same. Some brothers wouldn’t have done as much. I just wanted to tell him that I proposed to let him have the sum in question back.” This proposal certainly suggested an act to which, on the face of it, there appeared no valid objection; but my uncle, perhaps from force of habit, continued to approach the matter circumspectly. “It is just a question of the trustees,” he said once or twice; and he proceeded to

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