Bildungsromans; Fathers and sons -- Fiction; First loves -- Fiction; Ireland -- Fiction
Owen was too eager to notice anything. “Yes. What are you amused at?
Then you cut those bits out, and never bother about the rest. In what
you cut out you’ll find everything that it is necessary to know in
order to map out your life and your work. The whole teaching of Christ,
all that is essential, will be in those bits. Later on you may read
over the other things, that were obscure, and perhaps some of them
will by then be plain. I am to consider what kind of work I have a
taste for, and at the same time the work I devote myself to must fulfil
certain tests or I am to have nothing to do with it. Work you do with
your hands is best of all. I haven’t shown the letter at home yet. I
thought I’d think it quietly over down here and talk about it with you.
We’ll read the Gospels together. My father wants me to be a solicitor
and go into his place, but I don’t want that. On the other hand, I must
make up my mind soon, I suppose. I’m seventeen, you know.”
I took the letter from him, and read it slowly and with some difficulty
as we walked along. After that, I thought over it for a while.
“Will you have to earn your living?”
“Yes, naturally. There are a good many of us, you know.”
“Then I don’t see how the Gospels are going to help you, no matter what
way you mark them.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll have to live as other people do, unless you can afford
to be different; and other people don’t live according to the Gospels.”
Owen was silent.
“A carpenter, a gardener, for instance,” he began, “couldn’t they live
in accordance with the teaching of Christ? Tolstoy says I will never be
happy unless I do.”
“It’s all very well for Tolstoy talking: he is his own master and has
plenty of money. But how can you be a carpenter or a gardener? Your
father would never allow you to, and the first thing would be a quarrel
with him. We go down here, over this wall.”
Owen scrambled after me.
“A man must leave his father and his mother.”
“Yes, Owen dear, but you’re not a bit the kind of man who does, to say
nothing of leaving your brother and your sisters. At any rate, while
you are learning to be a gardener your father will have to keep you.”
“I only mentioned those trades because they happened to occur to me;
there are plenty of others.”
“There are not plenty: that’s just the difficulty I’ve been finding.”
We clambered down on to the rocks, from which the sea stretched away,
deep and clear and blue, glittering in the hot sunshine, moving with a
low, smooth swell, like some huge, splendid, living creature.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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