New Grub Street by George Gissing (best mobile ebook reader .txt) 📕
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. He’s 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 Edwin’s 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 Edwin’s 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 that’s true to his artistic desires but is unlikely to sell. On the other side lies Jasper Milvain, an “alarmingly modern” writer laser-focused on earning as much money as possible no matter what he’s 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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“I spoke the truth rather brutally,” he replied, in a kind voice. “Let all that be unsaid, forgotten. We are in quite a different position now. Be open with me, Marian; surely you can trust my common sense and good feeling. Put aside all thought of things I have said, and don’t be restrained by any fear lest you should seem to me unwomanly—you can’t be that. What is your own wish? What do you really wish to do, now that there is no uncertainty calling for postponements?”
Marian raised her eyes, and was about to speak as she regarded him; but with the first accent her look fell.
“I wish to be your wife.”
He waited, thinking and struggling with himself.
“Yet you feel that it would be heartless to take and use this money for our own purposes?”
“What is to become of my parents, Jasper?”
“But then you admit that the fifteen hundred pounds won’t support them. You talk of earning fifty pounds a year for them.”
“Need I cease to write, dear, if we were married? Wouldn’t you let me help them?”
“But, my dear girl, you are taking for granted that we shall have enough for ourselves.”
“I didn’t mean at once,” she explained hurriedly. “In a short time—in a year. You are getting on so well. You will soon have a sufficient income, I am sure.”
Jasper rose.
“Let us walk as far as the next seat. Don’t speak. I have something to think about.”
Moving on beside him, she slipped her hand softly within his arm; but Jasper did not put the arm into position to support hers, and her hand fell again, dropped suddenly. They reached another bench, and again became seated.
“It comes to this, Marian,” he said, with portentous gravity. “Support you, I could—I have little doubt of that. Maud is provided for, and Dora can make a living for herself. I could support you and leave you free to give your parents whatever you can earn by your own work. But—”
He paused significantly. It was his wish that Marian should supply the consequence, but she did not speak.
“Very well,” he exclaimed. “Then when are we to be married?”
The tone of resignation was too marked. Jasper was not good as a comedian; he lacked subtlety.
“We must wait,” fell from Marian’s lips, in the whisper of despair.
“Wait? But how long?” he inquired, dispassionately.
“Do you wish to be freed from your engagement, Jasper?”
He was not strong enough to reply with a plain “Yes,” and so have done with his perplexities. He feared the girl’s face, and he feared his own subsequent emotions.
“Don’t talk in that way, Marian. The question is simply this: Are we to wait a year, or are we to wait five years? In a year’s time, I shall probably be able to have a small house somewhere out in the suburbs. If we are married then, I shall be happy enough with so good a wife, but my career will take a different shape. I shall just throw overboard certain of my ambitions, and work steadily on at earning a livelihood. If we wait five years, I may perhaps have obtained an editorship, and in that case I should of course have all sorts of better things to offer you.”
“But, dear, why shouldn’t you get an editorship all the same if you are married?”
“I have explained to you several times that success of that kind is not compatible with a small house in the suburbs and all the ties of a narrow income. As a bachelor, I can go about freely, make acquaintances, dine at people’s houses, perhaps entertain a useful friend now and then—and so on. It is not merit that succeeds in my line; it is merit plus opportunity. Marrying now, I cut myself off from opportunity, that’s all.”
She kept silence.
“Decide my fate for me, Marian,” he pursued, magnanimously. “Let us make up our minds and do what we decide to do. Indeed, it doesn’t concern me so much as yourself. Are you content to lead a simple, unambitious life? Or should you prefer your husband to be a man of some distinction?”
“I know so well what your own wish is. But to wait for years—you will cease to love me, and will only think of me as a hindrance in your way.”
“Well now, when I said five years, of course I took a round number. Three—two might make all the difference to me.”
“Let it be just as you wish. I can bear anything rather than lose your love.”
“You feel, then, that it will decidedly be wise not to marry whilst we are still so poor?”
“Yes; whatever you are convinced of is right.”
He again rose, and looked at his watch.
“Jasper, you don’t think that I have behaved selfishly in wishing to let my father have the money?”
“I should have been greatly surprised if you hadn’t wished it. I certainly can’t imagine you saying: ‘Oh, let them do as best they can!’ That would have been selfish with a vengeance.”
“Now you are speaking kindly! Must you go, Jasper?”
“I must indeed. Two hours’ work I am bound to get before seven o’clock.”
“And I have been making it harder for you, by disturbing your mind.”
“No, no; it’s all right now. I shall go at it with all the more energy, now we have come to a decision.”
“Dora has asked me to go to Kew on Sunday. Shall you be able to come, dear?”
“By Jove, no! I have three engagements on Sunday afternoon. I’ll try and keep the Sunday after; I will indeed.”
“What are the engagements?” she asked timidly.
As they walked back towards Gloucester Gate, he answered her question, showing how unpardonable it would be to neglect the people concerned. Then they parted, Jasper going off at a smart pace homewards.
Marian turned down Park Street, and proceeded for some distance along Camden Road. The house in which she and her parents now lived was
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