New Grub Street by George Gissing (best mobile ebook reader .txt) π
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. Heβs 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 Edwinβs 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 Edwinβs 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 thatβs true to his artistic desires but is unlikely to sell. On the other side lies Jasper Milvain, an βalarmingly modernβ writer laser-focused on earning as much money as possible no matter what heβs 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
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He gave her a significant look.
βWhat shall we do, Jasper?β
βWork and wait, I suppose.β
βThereβs something I must tell you. Father said I had better sign that Harrington article myself. If I do that, I shall have a right to the money, I think. It will at least be eight guineas. And why shouldnβt I go on writing for myselfβ βfor us? You can help me to think of subjects.β
βFirst of all, what about my letter to your father? We are forgetting all about it.β
βHe refused to answer.β
Marian avoided closer description of what had happened. It was partly that she felt ashamed of her fatherβs unreasoning wrath, and feared lest Jasperβs pride might receive an injury from which she in turn would suffer; partly that she was unwilling to pain her lover by making display of all she had undergone.
βOh, he refused to reply! Surely that is extreme behaviour.β
What she dreaded seemed to be coming to pass. Jasper stood rather stiffly, and threw his head back.
βYou know the reason, dear. That prejudice has entered into his very life. It is not you he dislikes; that is impossible. He thinks of you only as he would of anyone connected with Mr. Fadge.β
βWell, well; it isnβt a matter of much moment. But what I have in mind is this. Will it be possible for you, whilst living at home, to take a position of independence, and say that you are going to work for your own profit?β
βAt least I might claim half the money I can earn. And I was thinking more ofβ ββ
βOf what?β
βWhen I am your wife, I may be able to help. I could earn thirty or forty pounds a year, I think. That would pay the rent of a small house.β
She spoke with shaken voice, her eyes fixed upon his face.
βBut, my dear Marian, we surely oughtnβt to think of marrying so long as expenses are so nicely fitted as all that?β
βNo. I only meantβ ββ
She faltered, and her tongue became silent as her heart sank.
βIt simply means,β pursued Jasper, seating himself and crossing his legs, βthat I must move heaven and earth to improve my position. You know that my faith in myself is not small; thereβs no knowing what I might do if I used every effort. But, upon my word, I donβt see much hope of our being able to marry for a year or two under the most favourable circumstances.β
βNo; I quite understand that.β
βCan you promise to keep a little love for me all that time?β he asked with a constrained smile.
βYou know me too well to fear.β
βI thought you seemed a little doubtful.β
His tone was not altogether that which makes banter pleasant between lovers. Marian looked at him fearfully. Was it possible for him in truth so to misunderstand her? He had never satisfied her heartβs desire of infinite love; she never spoke with him but she was oppressed with the suspicion that his love was not as great as hers, and, worse still, that he did not wholly comprehend the self-surrender which she strove to make plain in every word.
βYou donβt say that seriously, Jasper?β
βBut answer seriously.β
βHow can you doubt that I would wait faithfully for you for years if it were necessary?β
βIt mustnβt be years, thatβs very certain. I think it preposterous for a man to hold a woman bound in that hopeless way.β
βBut what question is there of holding me bound? Is love dependent on fixed engagements? Do you feel that, if we agreed to part, your love would be at once a thing of the past?β
βWhy no, of course not.β
βOh, but how coldly you speak, Jasper!β
She could not breathe a word which might be interpreted as fear lest the change of her circumstances should make a change in his feeling. Yet that was in her mind. The existence of such a fear meant, of course, that she did not entirely trust him, and viewed his character as something less than noble. Very seldom indeed is a woman free from such doubts, however absolute her love; and perhaps it is just as rare for a man to credit in his heart all the praises he speaks of his beloved. Passion is compatible with a great many of these imperfections of intellectual esteem. To see more clearly into Jasperβs personality was, for Marian, to suffer the more intolerable dread lest she should lose him.
She went to his side. Her heart ached because, in her great misery, he had not fondled her, and intoxicated her senses with loving words.
βHow can I make you feel how much I love you?β she murmured.
βYou mustnβt be so literal, dearest. Women are so desperately matter-of-fact; it comes out even in their love-talk.β
Marian was not without perception of the irony of such an opinion on Jasperβs lips.
βI am content for you to think so,β she said. βThere is only one fact in my life of any importance, and I can never lose sight of it.β
βWell now, we are quite sure of each other. Tell me plainly, do you think me capable of forsaking you because you have perhaps lost your money?β
The question made her wince. If delicacy had held her tongue, it had no control of his.
βHow can I answer that better,β she said, βthan by saying I love you?β
It was no answer, and Jasper, though obtuse compared with her, understood that it was none. But the emotion which had prompted his words was genuine enough. Her touch, the perfume of her passion, had their exalting effect upon him. He felt in all sincerity that to forsake her would be a baseness, revenged by the loss of such a wife.
βThereβs an uphill fight before me, thatβs all,β he said, βinstead of the pretty smooth course I have been looking forward to. But I donβt fear it, Marian. Iβm not the fellow to be beaten. You shall be my wife, and you shall have as
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