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.
Read free book ยซNew Grub Street by George Gissing (best mobile ebook reader .txt) ๐ยป - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: George Gissing
Read book online ยซNew Grub Street by George Gissing (best mobile ebook reader .txt) ๐ยป. Author - George Gissing
โI shall never go with you to Greece,โ he said distinctly.
There was silence again. Biffen did not move his eyes from the deathly mask; in a minute or two he saw a smile soften its lineaments, and Reardon again spoke:
โHow often you and I have quoted it!โ โ
โWe are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.โ โโโโ
The remaining words were indistinguishable, and, as if the effort of utterance had exhausted him, his eyes closed, and he sank into lethargy.
When he came down from his bedroom on the following morning, Biffen was informed that his friend had died between two and three oโclock. At the same time he received a note in which Amy requested him to come and see her late in the afternoon. He spent the day in a long walk along the eastward cliffs; again the sun shone brilliantly, and the sea was flecked with foam upon its changing green and azure. It seemed to him that he had never before known solitude, even through all the years of his lonely and sad existence.
At sunset he obeyed Amyโs summons. He found her calm, but with the signs of long weeping.
โAt the last moment,โ she said, โhe was able to speak to me, and you were mentioned. He wished you to have all that he has left in his room at Islington. When I come back to London, will you take me there and let me see the room just as when he lived in it? Let the people in the house know what has happened, and that I am responsible for whatever will be owing.โ
Her resolve to behave composedly gave way as soon as Haroldโs broken voice had replied. Hysterical sobbing made further speech from her impossible, and Biffen, after holding her hand reverently for a moment, left her alone.
XXXIII The Sunny WayOn an evening of early summer, six months after the death of Edwin Reardon, Jasper of the facile pen was bending over his desk, writing rapidly by the warm western light which told that sunset was near. Not far from him sat his younger sister; she was reading, and the book in her hand bore the title, Mr. Bailey, Grocer.
โHow will this do?โ Jasper exclaimed, suddenly throwing down his pen.
And he read aloud a critical notice of the book with which Dora was occupied; a notice of the frankly eulogistic species, beginning with: โIt is seldom nowadays that the luckless reviewer of novels can draw the attention of the public to a new work which is at once powerful and original;โ and ending: โThe word is a bold one, but we do not hesitate to pronounce this book a masterpiece.โ
โIs that for The Current?โ asked Dora, when he had finished.
โNo, for The West End. Fadge wonโt allow anyone but himself to be lauded in that style. I may as well do the notice for The Current now, as Iโve got my hand in.โ
He turned to his desk again, and before daylight failed him had produced a piece of more cautious writing, very favourable on the whole, but with reserves and slight censures. This also he read to Dora.
โYou wouldnโt suspect they were written by the same man, eh?โ
โNo. You have changed the style very skilfully.โ
โI doubt if theyโll be much use. Most people will fling the book down with yawns before theyโre half through the first volume. If I knew a doctor who had many cases of insomnia in hand, I would recommend Mr. Bailey to him as a specific.โ
โOh, but it is really clever, Jasper!โ
โNot a doubt of it. I half believe what I have written. And if only we could get it mentioned in a leader or two, and so on, old Biffenโs fame would be established with the better sort of readers. But he wonโt sell three hundred copies. I wonder whether Robertson would let me do a notice for his paper?โ
โBiffen ought to be grateful to you, if he knew,โ said Dora, laughing.
โYet, now, there are people who would cry out that this kind of thing is disgraceful. Itโs nothing of the kind. Speaking seriously, we know that a really good book will more likely than not receive fair treatment from two or three reviewers; yes, but also more likely than not it will be swamped in the flood of literature that pours forth week after week, and wonโt have attention fixed long enough upon it to establish its repute. The struggle for existence among books is nowadays as severe as among men. If a writer has friends connected with the press, it is the plain duty of those friends to do their utmost to help him. What matter if they exaggerate, or even lie? The simple, sober truth has no chance whatever of being listened to, and itโs only by volume of shouting that the ear of the public is held. What use is it to Biffen if his work struggles to slow recognition ten years hence? Besides, as I say, the growing flood of literature swamps everything but works of primary genius. If a clever and conscientious book does not spring to success at once, thereโs precious small chance that it will survive. Suppose it were possible for me to write a round dozen reviews of this book, in as many different papers, I would do it with satisfaction. Depend upon it, this kind of thing will be done on that scale before long. And itโs quite natural. A manโs friends must be helped, by whatever means, quocunque modo, as Biffen himself would say.โ
โI dare say he doesnโt even think of you as a friend now.โ
โVery likely not. Itโs ages since I saw him. But thereโs much magnanimity in my character, as I have often told you. It delights me to be generous, whenever I can afford it.โ
Dusk was gathering about them. As they sat talking, there came a tap at the door,
Comments (0)