Boon, The Mind of the Race, The Wild Asses of the Devil, and The Last Trump;: Being a First Selection from the Literary Remains of George Boon, Appropriate to the TimesWells, H. G. (Herbert George)
Philosophy
Boon, The Mind of the Race, The Wild Asses of the Devil, and The Last Trump;: Being a First Selection from the Literary Remains of George Boon, Appropriate to the Times
Wells, H. G. (Herbert George)
English fiction -- 20th century; Satire
"Having first made sure that he has scarcely anything left to express,
he then sets to work to express it, with an industry, a wealth of
intellectual stuff that dwarfs Newton. He spares no resource in the
telling of his dead inventions. He brings up every device of language
to state and define. Bare verbs he rarely tolerates. He splits his
infinitives and fills them up with adverbial stuffing. He presses the
passing colloquialism into his service. His vast paragraphs sweat and
struggle; they could not sweat and elbow and struggle more if God
Himself was the processional meaning to which they sought to come. And
all for tales of nothingness.... It is leviathan retrieving pebbles.
It is a magnificent but painful hippopotamus resolved at any cost,
even at the cost of its dignity, upon picking up a pea which has got
into a corner of its den. Most things, it insists, are beyond it, but
it can, at any rate, modestly, and with an artistic singleness of
mind, pick up that pea...."
§ 4
"A little while ago," said Boon, suddenly struggling with his trouser
pocket and producing some pieces of paper, "I sketched out a novel,
and as it was rather in the manner of Henry James I think perhaps you
might be interested by it now. So much, that is, as there is of it. It
is to be called 'The Spoils of Mr. Blandish,' and it is all about this
particular business of the selective life. Mr. Blandish, as I saw him,
was pretty completely taken from the James ideal.... He was a man with
an exquisite apprehension of particulars, with just that sense of
there being a rightness attainable, a fitness, a charm, a finish....
In any little affair.... He believed that in speech and still more
that in writing there was an inevitable right word, in actions great
and small a mellowed etiquette, in everything a possible perfection.
He was, in fact, the very soul of Henry James--as I understand it....
This sort of man--
[Illustration: _Mr. Blandish going delicately through life. "Oh no! oh
no! But _Yes!_ and _This is it!_"_]
"Going delicately."
I was able to secure the sketch.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account