Mr. Tasker's Gods
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Mr Tasker's Gods was T. F. Powys's first novel. Written during the First World War it wasn't published until 1925. It is an unsettling work constantly showing the brutal reality behind the facades. Mr Tasker himself, on the surface, a respectable farmer and God abiding churchwarden is, in fact, 'a brute beast of the most foul nature' Many of the initial reviews were hostile, but that was largely because of the author's treatment of the church. It is under constant attack with the services being described as 'a sort of roll-call to enable authority to retain a proper hold upon the people'. Faber Finds are reissuing six works by T. F. Powys: Mr Tasker's Gods, Mark Only, Mockery Gap, Innocent Birds, Fables and God's Eyes A-Twinkle.
watched her stepping down the bank. Alice was delighted to obey this master. When she obeyed him she fancied that she was obeying some one else, a more mighty master. A master that sometimes tells his slaves to set out for Paris on a stormy night, or to hunt up a house with a queer side door in Chiswick, or to stand for two hours in an east wind by the side of the statue of George 111. of blessed memory at Westminster. Henry was willing, he was even delighted, to go—how nice it is to be
sovereigns and one shilling. ‘Take it—take it all—it belonged to she. I’m fear’d of she—take thik money and keep she in the ground—thud! like she wented. She saved thik money in service—I beat she—I took ’en and to-day she went, thud!’ And the drover brought his hat with a heavy motion to the floor. Neville put the gold, pound by pound, into the purse, and gave the strap again to the drover. ‘Listen to what I say. Go on with your work and keep the money for a while. Remember it is still
face in this condition looked so queer that Alice almost laughed. The man slowly unbuttoned his coat. What was he going to do? The others had done everything, nothing mattered to her now. A drop of water fell upon her nose, and she smiled. What was this strange man doing now? He had folded up his coat neatly, and now he laid it in the dry mud of the road; he was undoing a strap. Alice pinched her leg to see if it could still feel, and then shut her eyes. Another leaf came down and then
and leaped up three steps of the stair. Alas, for the stair carpet! Then Mrs. Fancy beheld the young lady take the rest at a run. Looking back, she called out, ‘You won’t catch me now!’ and ran into the lodgers’ bedroom and threw herself on the bed in the dark. After her, on her trail, panted the gentleman. When he reached the room he lurched forward, clutched at the bed and the girl, missed them both, and fell heavily on the floor, where he lay still and silent. Mrs. Fancy had never in her
Unluckily Henry and she belonged to the type that do offend the people. ‘I’m going to live in this cottage. There always has been a witch here.’ Molly knew as well as Henry that she was putting herself into a sort of danger, and that she would most likely be hooted at and even stoned by the ill-mannered, spoilt children of the two villages: these little amusements of the people not being as extinct as our gentle reformers seem to think them. For the time being, the villagers had lost sight of