Peter Ackroyd - Hawksmoor

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Hawksmoor: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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In recent years serial killer novels and films have become something of a cliche. It's a genre which has been done to death with only a few works standing above the herd. So Hawksmoor was a very refreshing change. A novel set in London, with two threads, one in the 1800's and one in contemporary times. The novel opens in the period following the Great Fire of London, with one Nicholas Dyer, an assistant surveyor in scotland yard who eventually becomes an apprentice to Christopher Wren. He is commissioned to rebuilt the lost churches of London. In the present we are introduced to a series of characters, including a young boy and a vagrant, whose stories are painted with a lavish brush, before we meet the eponymous hero of the novel.
Hawksmoor is the detective investigating a series of serial killings, located in the vicinity of a number of churches across London. It is here that the various sub plots are brought together, the story centring on Hawksmoor attempts at unravelling the mystery.
All the while the story of Dyer's architectural plans and the rebuilding of London unravel simultaneously. His true character is gradually exposed, revealing unexpected connections between the two disparate storylines.
The conclusion of the novel is both unexpected and uncomfortable, a brilliant conclusion to a work with a great psychological presence. Ackroyd brings the personalities of his characters to the fore, places them in a lushly drawn backdrop, and shows the story through their eyes.
One of the most impressive things about the novel is the way Ackroyd treats the serial killer storyline, keeping it very much in the background, shown only through the eyes of the characters and the ensuing investigation. It never dominates the proceedings, and Ackroyd instead concentrates his energy on exploring the eighteenth century events that hold a key to the present day. It is both chilling and filled with an aura of corruption, a reinvention of history and a fresh look at the present through the eyes of history.
It has been a while since I have read a novel this satisfying, an enthralling story on all levels with an ending that stays with you long after you've finished it.

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Oh sir, says he pricking up his Ears, and what may these be?

They will be my Observations, I told him, on Toasting Cheese By A Candle Without Burning Fingers. And the old man looked at me astonished as I left the Repository and stepped quietly down the Stairs.

Sir Chris, had not yet begun his Discourse to the Assembly, but as I entred the back of the Room he was showing an Experiment with the Air-Pump: a sprightly black Cat was placed in the glass Chamber and in a few Moments, upon Sir Chris, exhausting the Air, it fell into Convulsions and would have expir'd but that the Air was again admitted. He did not Bow to the Assembly who gave him great Applause at this, but brought some peeces of Paper from his Pocket as the Cat, meanwhile, ran screeching through my Legs and out of the Door.

The Company buzzed like Flies above Ordure but, when it had settled itself again, Sir Chris, thus began: Mr Bacon, Mr Boyle and Mr Lock moved the first Springs of this illustrious Society, which is call'd the Royal Society. They are reason enough why we should be gathered here, for it is by their Example that we have learned that the Experimentall Philosophy is an Instrument for Mankind's domination of Darknesse and Superstition (and I crie out inwardly as he speaks: but look behind you), and that through the Sciences of Mechanicks, Opticks, Hydrostaticks, Pneumaticks as well as Chymistry, Anatomy and the Mathematicall Arts we have begun to understand the works of Nature (but not your own corrupcion). This has not been the work of one enlightened Generation only: in the Air, the more accurate history of Winds and Meteors has been achiev'd by the Lord Bacon, Des Cartes, Mr Boyle and others. In the earth, new lands by Columbus, Magellan and the rest of the Discoverers, and the whole Subterranean world has been described by the universally learned Kircher (listen to a few sighes from Hell). The history of Plants has been much improv'd by Bauhinus and Gerhard, beside the late account of English vegetables published by Dr Merret, another excellent Virtuoso of this Society (another giddy son of a Whore). Natural History has found a rich Heap of Materialls in the particulars of the Venae Lacteae, the Vasa Lymphatica, the several new Passages and Glandules, the origination of the Nerves and the Circulation of the Blood (he that is filthy, let him be filthy still). We proceed by Rationall Experiment and the Observation of Cause and Effect: the Ancients pierced meerly in the Bark and Outside of Matter, but the only things that can stick into the Mind of Man are built upon impregnable Foundations of Geometry and Arithmetick: the rest is indigested Heaps and Labyrinths (this is a plain lie). Thus there are many secret Truths which the Ancients have passed over for us to uncover: we have seen the spots of the Sunne, and its conversion about its own Axis; we have seen the laterall Guardians of Saturn and Jupiter, the various Phases of Mars, the Horns of Venus and Mercury (and does not your Heart stop at the Immensity of the Void that surrounds them?) And at last, Gentlemen, Astronomy has taken to herself another Assistant, Magneticks, so that true Science has at last dis- cover'd the Secrets of the Attracted Sea and the Magnetical Direction of the Earth (oh the horror of Waves and the Night). Terrors only confound weaker Minds but such Bugbears were produced by Speculation, and chiefly prevailed in Time past when the old way of Learning flourished (how can you speak of Time past who does not understand the meaning of Time?) Men began to be frighted from their Cradles, which Fright continu'd to their Graves. But from that period in which the real Philosophy appeared there has scarce been any Whisper remaining of such Horrours (and yet for most Men Existence is still no better than a Curse) and every Man is unshaken by those Tales at which his Ancestours trembled: the course of Things goes quietly along in its own true Channel of Cause and Effect. For this we are beholden to Experiments; for although the New Science has not yet completed the Discovery of the True world it has already vanquished those wilde inhabitants of False worlds. And this brings me to the second great work of this Royal Society (the Company shift hither and thither on their Chairs: they long to begone, and their Bollocks are itching for Whores), which is to judge and resolve upon Matters of Fact -whether Camphire comes from Trees, do Horns take root and Grow, can Wood be turned to Stone, do Pebbles grow in Water, what is the nature of petrifying Springs, and such like Questions do concern us (these are meer winter Tales for schoolboys). We take an exact view of the Repetition of the whole Course of the Experiment, observe all the chances and regularities of Proceeding, and thus maintain a critical and reiterated Scrutinie of those Things which are the plain Objects of our Eyes (7, Nicholas Dyer, will give them Things to look upon). This is a learned and inquisitive Age, Gentlemen, a prying and laborious Age, an Age of Industry: it will be as a Beacon for the Generations to come, who will examine our Works and say, It was then that the World began anew. I thank you.

As alwaies, Sir Chris, remained as still as a Statue as they clapp'd him, but he received with every possible mark of Friendlinesse those who came to him after the Company had departed their several Ways.

I held myself in Readiness at the back of the Room, but he seemed to pay no mind to me while I stood there; then, much trembling, I approached him with the Draughts ready in my Hand. Ah Nick, says he, Nick, I cannot be concerned with these now: but come this way, and see something for your Amusement. I was at a Loss for Words (having gone to much Trouble to transport the Upright Planns) but I followed him in company with a very few others into a further Room.

This is a curious Peece of Art, says he, as we enter'd, which I did not make Mencion of in my Discourse; and he pointed to a Landskip which hung before a Curtain. It is moved by clockwork as you shall see, he continues, and thus is it called the Moving Picture. Then he clapp'd his Hands and we watched: indeed it looked as an ordinary Picture but then the Ships moved and sailed upon the Sea till out of Sight; a Coach came out of the Town, the motion of the Horses and Wheels being very distinct, and a Gentleman in the Coach seemed to salute the Company. I stood up and said in a loud voice to Sir Chris.: I have seen this before but I do not know in what Place. And in front of the astonished'd Eyes of the Company I left the Room, walking out into Crane Court where I breathed but uneasily. Then I went directly to my Lodgings, and fell into a profound Sleep.

It was Nat who woke me at the Close of Day. As please you sir, says he putting his Head around the Door, there is a Gentleman below who wishes to speak with you.

I jumped up from my Bed with the Thought that this was the serpent Hayes come to my House to force me to confesse all. I desired him to walk up, in as loud a Voice as I dared, while I swiftly dried the Sweat from my Brow with a peece of Linnen cloth. Yet I came to my Senses pritty fast for I knew that Step upon the Stairs very well; it was not so fast now but still full of Purpose, and in comes Sir Chris, bowing: I came to see how you do, Nick, he says, since you left us so suddenly. And he gave me a cautious Look before smiling at me. I feared you were Sick, he continued, or grew faint from want of Air since the College sometimes stinks of Spirit and Chymick Operations.

I stood uneasily in front of him: I was not sick, sir, but I had other Business and so went on my way.

I was vexed with myself for not studdying your Draughts of St Mary Woolnoth, Sir Chris, went on smiling and speaking softly as if indeed I were a Sick man, are they with you now by any Chance?

I have them here, I replied and took from my Buroe the Uprights and the Ground Platts.

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