New Grub Street by George Gissing (best mobile ebook reader .txt) ๐
Description
Grub Street is the name of a former street in London synonymous with pulp writers and low-quality publishers. New Grub Street takes its name from that old street, as it follows the lives and endeavors of a group of writers active in the literary scene of 1880s London.
Edwin Reardon is a quiet and intelligent writer whose artistic sensibilities are the opposite of what the London public wants to read. Heโs forced to write long, joyless novels that he thinks pop publishers will want to buy. These novels are draining to write, yet result in meager sales; soon Edwinโs increasingly small bank account, and his stubborn pride, start to put a strain on his once-happy marriage.
His best friend, Biffen, lies to one side of Edwinโs nature: as another highly-educated writer, he accepts a dingy, lonely, and hungry life of abject poverty in exchange for being able to produce a novel thatโs true to his artistic desires but is unlikely to sell. On the other side lies Jasper Milvain, an โalarmingly modernโ writer laser-focused on earning as much money as possible no matter what heโs made to write, as he floats through the same literary circles that Edwin haunts.
The intricately-told tale follows these writers as their differing outlooks and their fluctuating ranks in society affect them and the people around them. Gissing, himself a prolific writer intimately familiar with the London literary scene, draws from his own life in laying out the characters and events in the novel. He carefully elaborates the fragile social fabric of the literary world, its paupers and its barons both equal in the industry but unequal in public life. Though the novel is about writers on the face, the deep thread that runs through it all is the brutality of the modern social structure, where the greedy and superficial are rewarded with stability and riches, while the delicate and thoughtful are condemned to live on the margins of respectable society in grimy poverty, robbed not only of dignity, but of love.
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- Author: George Gissing
Read book online ยซNew Grub Street by George Gissing (best mobile ebook reader .txt) ๐ยป. Author - George Gissing
His steps directing themselves more by habit than with any deliberate choice, he walked towards Camden Road. When he had reached Camden Town railway-station he was attracted by a coffee-stall; a draught of the steaming liquid, no matter its quality, would help his blood to circulate. He laid down his penny, and first warmed his hands by holding them round the cup. Whilst standing thus he noticed that the objects at which he looked had a blurred appearance; his eyesight seemed to have become worse this morning. Only a result of his insufficient sleep perhaps. He took up a scrap of newspaper that lay on the stall; he could read it, but one of his eyes was certainly weaker than the other; trying to see with that one alone, he found that everything became misty.
He laughed, as if the threat of new calamity were an amusement in his present state of mind. And at the same moment his look encountered that of a man who had drawn near to him, a shabbily-dressed man of middle age, whose face did not correspond with his attire.
โWill you give me a cup of coffee?โ asked the stranger, in a low voice and with shamefaced manner. โIt would be a great kindness.โ
The accent was that of good breeding. Yule hesitated in surprise for a moment, then said:
โHave one by all means. Would you care for anything to eat?โ
โI am much obliged to you. I think I should be none the worse for one of those solid slices of bread and butter.โ
The stall-keeper was just extinguishing his lights; the frosty sky showed a pale gleam of sunrise.
โHard times, Iโm afraid,โ remarked Yule, as his beneficiary began to eat the luncheon with much appearance of grateful appetite.
โVery hard times.โ He had a small, thin, colourless countenance, with large, pathetic eyes; a slight moustache and curly beard. His clothes were such as would be worn by some very poor clerk. โI came here an hour ago,โ he continued, โwith the hope of meeting an acquaintance who generally goes from this station at a certain time. I have missed him, and in doing so I missed what I had thought my one chance of a breakfast. When one has neither dined nor supped on the previous day, breakfast becomes a meal of some importance.โ
โTrue. Take another slice.โ
โI am greatly obliged to you.โ
โNot at all. I have known hard times myself, and am likely to know worse.โ
โI trust not. This is the first time that I have positively begged. I should have been too much ashamed to beg of the kind of men who are usually at these places; they certainly have no money to spare. I was thinking of making an appeal at a bakerโs shop, but it is very likely I should have been handed over to a policeman. Indeed I donโt know what I should have done; the last point of endurance was almost reached. I have no clothes but these I wear, and they are few enough for the season. Still, I suppose the waistcoat must have gone.โ
He did not talk like a beggar who is trying to excite compassion, but with a sort of detached curiosity concerning the difficulties of his position.
โYou can find nothing to do?โ said the man of letters.
โPositively nothing. By profession I am a surgeon, but itโs a long time since I practised. Fifteen years ago I was comfortably established at Wakefield; I was married and had one child. But my capital ran out, and my practice, never anything to boast of, fell to nothing. I succeeded in getting a place as an assistant to a man at Chester. We sold up, and started on the journey.โ
He paused, looking at Yule in a strange way.
โWhat happened then?โ
โYou probably donโt remember a railway accident that took place near Crewe in that yearโ โit was 1869? I and my wife and child were alone in a carriage that was splintered. One moment I was talking with them, in fairly good spirits, and my wife was laughing at something I had said; the next, there were two crushed, bleeding bodies at my feet. I had a broken arm, that was all. Well, they were killed on the instant; they didnโt suffer. That has been my one consolation.โ
Yule kept the silence of sympathy.
โI was in a lunatic asylum for more than a year after that,โ continued the man. โUnhappily, I didnโt lose my senses at the moment; it took two or three weeks to bring me to that pass. But I recovered, and there has been no return of the disease. Donโt suppose that I am still of unsound mind. There can be little doubt that poverty will bring me to that again in the end; but as yet I am perfectly sane. I have supported myself in various ways. No, I donโt drink; I see the question in your face. But I am physically weak, and, to quote Mrs. Gummidge, โthings go contrary with me.โ Thereโs no use lamenting; this breakfast has helped me on, and I feel in much better spirits.โ
โYour surgical knowledge is no use to you?โ
The other shook his head and sighed.
โDid you ever give any special attention to diseases of the eyes?โ
โSpecial, no. But of course I had some acquaintance with the subject.โ
โCould you tell by examination whether a man was threatened with cataract, or anything of that kind?โ
โI think I could.โ
โI am speaking of myself.โ
The stranger made a close scrutiny of Yuleโs face, and asked certain questions
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