You reminded me...
You are so right...
In fact you reminded me that many years ago I introduced a girlfriend to Gormenghast and she adored it as well. She had a Masters in linguistics and, just as an exercise highlighted all the passages in a section of the book that had to do with weather/seasons etc. She then just stuck them together in the order they came, and called it:
…Seasons…
(Extracts from ‘Gormenghast’ by Mervyn Peake)
… And the days move on and the names of the month change and the four seasons bury one another and it is Spring again…
The days lengthen and Summer sprawls across the countryside in all the swathes of it’s green, with it’s gold and sticky head, with it’s slumber and the drone of doves…it’s sunflowers, each one an echo-child while fruits ripen…
And smells of such rotten sweetness as brings a hunger to the breast and makes of the heart a sea bed…
… And a tear – the fruit of salt and water, ripens, fed by a summer sorrow, ripens and falls…
falls gradually along the cheekbones, wanders over the wastelands listlessly, the loveliest emblem of the heart’s condition.
… And the days move on and the names of the months change and the four seasons bury one another…
The clouds are clothed…the sky has been stabbed and left to die above the world, filthy, vast and bloody.
And the great winds come and the sky is blown naked…
… The days wear out the months and the months wear out the years, and a flux of movements like a unique tide, eats at the black coast of futurity.
That is not a poem. That is just sentences taken from context and strung together. If that sort of language use compises the body of text in a novel then I can see why Sturmhalo couldn\'t be arsed to read anything else afterwards. I felt pretty much the same way.
You are so right...
In fact you reminded me that many years ago I introduced a girlfriend to Gormenghast and she adored it as well. She had a Masters in linguistics and, just as an exercise highlighted all the passages in a section of the book that had to do with weather/seasons etc. She then just stuck them together in the order they came, and called it:
…Seasons…
(Extracts from ‘Gormenghast’ by Mervyn Peake)
… And the days move on and the names of the month change and the four seasons bury one another and it is Spring again…
The days lengthen and Summer sprawls across the countryside in all the swathes of it’s green, with it’s gold and sticky head, with it’s slumber and the drone of doves…it’s sunflowers, each one an echo-child while fruits ripen…
And smells of such rotten sweetness as brings a hunger to the breast and makes of the heart a sea bed…
… And a tear – the fruit of salt and water, ripens, fed by a summer sorrow, ripens and falls…
falls gradually along the cheekbones, wanders over the wastelands listlessly, the loveliest emblem of the heart’s condition.
… And the days move on and the names of the months change and the four seasons bury one another…
The clouds are clothed…the sky has been stabbed and left to die above the world, filthy, vast and bloody.
And the great winds come and the sky is blown naked…
… The days wear out the months and the months wear out the years, and a flux of movements like a unique tide, eats at the black coast of futurity.
That is not a poem. That is just sentences taken from context and strung together. If that sort of language use compises the body of text in a novel then I can see why Sturmhalo couldn\'t be arsed to read anything else afterwards. I felt pretty much the same way.
