He's wearing someone else's face. Lawford rested a lean hand on the seat. The story line involves an average, stolid, middl Once upon a time I read and enjoyed various of Walter de la Mare's short stories, possibly because I had enjoyed the poem or two of his that had appeared in my grade-school English textbooks. ? And then--you know how such thoughts seize us, my dear--like a sudden inspiration, I realised how tenuous, how appallingly tenuous a hold we every one of us have on our mere personality. About this Item: Flame Tree 451, 2013. But, of course, you must decide that. A face that provokes disquiet within anyone who chances to see it.
God does know best; but in a matter like this it is not even my place to say so. Even now, he felt and glanced swiftly behind him at the fancy , it would be better to think as softly as possible, not to hope too openly, certainly not to triumph in the least degree, just in case of--well--listeners. Indeed, the author keeps things so hazy that we aren't even clear when Arthur's face begins to return to normal, and are never even told Alice's age until the final pages of the book. New York: Alfred A Knopf. And in an east wind! Okay, I do agree that The Return has multiple interpretations. You were particularly anxious about my feelings, weren't you? So absorbed he became as he stood leaning over the wooden sill above the falling water, that eye and ear became enslaved by the roar and stillness. Then, taking firm hold of the handle with both hands, he slowly noiselessly turned it, and peeped in on Alice.
From United Kingdom to U. In this story Arthur Lawford, a thoroughly average and undistinguished man, stops to take a rest in a cemetery and falls asleep near a grave. If you like the literature of the 19th and early 20th century and are interested, you should check it out. You can just go through evil, as you can go through a sewer, and come out on the other side. I can't tell you how relieved, how unspeakably relieved I am to find you so much--so much better. There isn't much action, and Lawford doesn't struggle against the cackling evil ghost of a hundred-years dead scoundrel. In this story Arthur Lawford, a thoroughly average and undistinguished man, stops to take a rest in a cemetery and falls asleep near a grave.
He ran up the steps and stopped dead, his hand in his pocket, chilled and aghast. The Return seems, on one level, to be about the limitations of language. What fantastic foolery of mind was mastering him? Tymn ed , Horror Literature 4-89. He had not yet even glanced into the glass. To the left of the house, where the waters floated free again, stood vast, still trees above the clustering rushes; and in glimpses between their spreading boughs lay the far-stretching countryside, now dimmed with the first mists of approaching evening. She would have to question Ada--diplomatically. In general, Charles Williams is a much better novelist when it comes to this kind of tale, because he is equally poetic and equally insightful but shows a wider understanding and definitely has a better sense of drama while remaining subtle.
An ambiguous ghost story which merges two souls to investigate the ideas of differing possible realities, lost love, and a vision of the afterlife. Minutes passed the sleeper faintly stirred, muttering. I mean that after waking I felt much better, more alert. Alice will be home next week. In this story Arthur Lawford, a thoroughly average and undistinguished man, stops to take a rest in a cemetery and falls asleep near a grave. And he sat quite still, like a cat at a cranny, listening, as it were, for the faintest remotest stir that might hint at any return of this--activity. Giles de la Mare 1969 Ariel Poems Five poems were published by as the.
At first, only his aged vicar and his daughter really believe in him, and things start to go awry as his personality subtly changes or is this just the expected reactions to stress? He hardly knew what this surge of feeling meant. But with a big practice. In the afternoon he got up and dressed himself. It was all too rare, too thin. Not his brain, not that, not even wandering; really: but always thinking, always longing on and on for you, dear, only. If he did kill himself, he did.
Mr Danton composed his chin in his collar, and deliberately turned himself towards his companion. The only thing interesting about this book is the premise and the initial possession and change of the main character. It seems so childish, so needlessly blind. You wouldn't think a story about a guy falling asleep in a graveyard and awakening with the face of a dead man instead of his own would be so. He flung off the bedclothes and locked the door. Instead, the book is very reflective and internalized, as we are privy to Lawford's thoughts and psychological distress, mostly over his situation.
They were no doubt curable. A face that provokes disquiet within anyone who chances to see it. Hence you are requested to go through the actual store listings in detail before making a purchase. An ambiguous ghost story which merges two souls to investigate the ideas of differing possible realities, lost love, and a vision of the afterlife. That seems to hint at brains. But as he stood there, doubtful as Cain on the outskirts of the unknown, he caught the sound of a footfall on the lonely and stone-strewn path. And a hard, slow smile passed over Sheila's face.
But the stooping stones and the cypresses were out of sight of its porch. And of course there's a ghost. But it was at least mainly Old Testament stuff, like polygamy, Joshua, and the 'unclean beasts. He crept an inch or two forward, and stooped. His first book, Songs of Childhood, was published under the name Walter Ramal. So cook let Dr Ferguson in, then? The Checklist of Fantastic Literature.
Here, then, the gothic aspect emerges, as Lawford is forced more and more to stir only in the night when there is less chance of bumping into an old acquaintance. Her cheeks never had much colour; now her whole face visibly darkened, from pallor to a dusky leaden grey, as she gazed. His lips moved; he folded his spectacles. Benson or Montague Rhodes James, nor as metaphysically abstract as Arthur Machen, de la mare turned out eerie fiction concerned with children, imagination, visions, and the human spirit and identity. Still on the borders of sleep, he unlocked the great wardrobe and took out an old faded purple and crimson dressing-gown that had belonged to his grandfather, the chief glory of every Christmas charade. The vague drifting narrative made the book really relaxing to read although I did feel the ending was a little directionless.