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Doubtless Golding intends the reader to become involved in Jocelin's suffering, but the requirements of allegory constantly work against complexity of character. In order to generalize Jocelin's high, spiritual pre-occupations, Golding leaves out all but the formal vestiges of Christianity. Like Becket in Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral the priest uses paternal, beatific language; but Christ, salvation, and sin are carefully left out. Golding merely gives Jocelin the symptoms of faith, and leaves it to the reader to conjure up some kind of psychological reality from such cryptic sommentary as "Joy, fire, joy." Furthermore the artificial...
Once arrived, the reader is not likely to be surfeited. Even Sir William confesses that the Times is guilty of "blatant omissions," as when, a few years ago, it reported the resignation of the Spanish Ambassador to Britain without mentioning the adultery case that caused...
Strange Talk. The reader may notice a peculiar thing about the way people talk in Hemingway's book-like Hemingway characters, in fact. Some characters-in or out of fiction-did learn to talk this way, but that was later. Yet here they are in the early 1920s, before A Farewell to Arms was ever written, talking like Lieut. Henry, Hemingway, of course, knows what he is doing, and it shows in the fact that he does not try to work the old conversational trick on those well-enough known to have a recognizable style of their own. Ezra...
Tragic Grace. The gay and artless sketches (with a lifetime of craft behind each deceptively negligent line) have a heartbreaking quality when the reader recalls that these glittering trivia were cut and polished by a man soon to take his own life. So the reader searches for a clue to the tragic flaw in a nature that seemed all confidence and gallantry, and finds it in a pride so vast that it demanded others live according to Hemingway's own stern and complicated code (even when they could not know the rules), a pride so touchy that it could...
...book also offers a few poems interesting in themselves, a couple of rousing drinking songs, some Rabelaisian belly laughs, and one or two tenderly erotic lyrics. Otherwise the reader who is not a hard-core enthusiast will find the collection disappointing. The scholarly apparatus smothers the poems. What is worse for the prurient reader, Burns's Scottish dialect, which he usually trimmed to understandable proportions in his published work, is here often incomprehensible-even the dirty words...