Henry Green - Loving

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Loving: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Green remains a dim figure for many Americans. He stopped writing in 1952, at age 47, with just nine novels and a memoir behind him. In the last years of his life-he died in 1973-he became a kind of British Thomas Pynchon, agreeing to be photographed only from behind. But those who knew him often revered him. W. H. Auden called him the finest living English novelist. His real name was Henry Vincent Yorke. The son of a wealthy Birmingham industrialist, he was educated at Eton and Oxford but never completed his degree. He became managing director of the family factory, which made beer-bottling machines. But first he spent a year on the factory floor with the ordinary workers, and his fiction is forever marked by an understanding of the English at all levels of society, something rare in class-bound British literature. Loving is a classic upstairs-downstairs story, with the emphasis on downstairs. You see the life of a great Irish country house during World War II through the eyes of its mostly British servants, who make a world of their own during a period when their masters are away. Green's generosity towards even the most scheming and rascally of them offers a lesson you never forget.
One of his most admired works, Loving describes life above and below stairs in an Irish country house during the Second World War. In the absence of their employers the Tennants, the servants enact their own battles and conflict amid rumours about the war in Europe; invading one another's provinces of authority to create an anarchic environment of self-seeking behaviour, pilfering, gossip and love.
"Loving stands, together with Living, as the masterpiece of this disciplined, poetic and grimly realistic, witty and melancholy, amorous and austere voluptuary-comic, richly entertaining-haunting and poetic-writer." – TLS
"Green's works live with ever-brightening intensity-it's like dancing with Nijinsky or Astaire, who lead you effortlessly on." – The Wall Street Journal
"Green's novels- have become, with time, photographs of a vanished England -Green's human qualities – his love of work and laughter; his absolute empathy; his sense of splendour amid loss – make him a precious witness to any age." – John Updike
"Green's books are solid and glittering as gems." – Anthony Burgess

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He was absolutely stunned. His jaw hung open.

'Oh Raunce,' she called over her shoulder. He stood up straight. Perhaps he simply could not make a sound.

'Who found it?' she asked.

He seemed to pull himself together.

'It was Edith,' he answered at random and probably forgot at once whom he had named.

Even then she had the last word. She turned round when she was some way off down the passage.

'Oh Raunce,' she said, 'I'm afraid your luncheon to-day may be burned,' gave a short laugh, then was gone.

Young Mrs Tennant came into the Red Library where her mother-in-law was seated at the desk which had a flat sloping top of rhinoceros hide supported on gold fluted pillars of wood.

'Where's Jack?' she asked.

'Fishing of course dear.'

'I shouldn't have thought there was enough water in the river.'

'Oh Violet,' Mrs Tennant replied, 'that reminds me. Ask tomorrow if I've told Raunce the servants can't have any more baths, so that I shan't forget. Or not more than one a week anyway until we can be sure the wells won't go dry.'

'I will. Was he always as fond of fishing?'

'Always. But tell me Violet. Oughtn't we to do something about him in the evenings? Get someone over I mean. Another man so that he needn't sit over his port alone.'

'But who is there now they've stopped the petrol?' the young woman asked. 'Anyway I'd have thought a girl would have been better.'

'Oh no we don't want anything like that do we? In any case they're all Roman Catholics. No I was thinking of Captain Davenport?'

'Not him,' Mrs Jack answered too quickly.

'Why not Violet? He used to be such a companion of yours?'

'Well I don't think Jack likes him.'

'Oh I shouldn't pay any attention,' Mrs Tennant said vaguely. 'I've so often noticed that if they can talk salmon trout they never go as far as disliking one another. Ring him up.'

'You're sure? I mean I don't want to crowd the house out just when you've got Jack home.'

'Oh really Violet,' her mother-in-law replied. That's perfectly sweet of you but in this great barn of a place with the servants simply eating their heads off it's a breath of fresh air to see someone new. Oh the servants, Violet darling,' Mrs Tennant said in tragic tones. She turned her leather Spanish stool round to face the younger woman.

'Have they been tiresome again?'

'Did I tell you I'd got my ring back?' Mrs Tennant enquired.

'No. How splendid.'

'My dear it was quite fantastic. When I arrived I found all the servants up in arms about it with not a trace of the ring. They were going round in small circles accusing each other.'

'Good lord,' her daughter-in-law remarked looking almost rudely out of the open window on the edge of which she was perched.

'Whether it's never having been educated or whether it's just plain downright stupidity I don't know,' the elder Mrs Tennant went on, 'but there's been the most detestable muddle about my sapphire ring.'

'Your sapphire cluster ring?'

'Yes I lost it just before we crossed over for Jack's leave. You know I told you. I was wearing the thing one day and the next I knew it was gone. I must have taken it off to wash my hands. Anyway suddenly it had disappeared into thin air. Such a lovely one too that Jack's Aunt Emily gave me.'

'You never said,' Mrs Jack complained limp.

'Didn't I darling? Well there it is. And the moment I got inside the house three days ago I found Raunce crossing and uncrossing his fingers obviously most terribly nervous about something. Well I let him get it off his chest and what d'you think? It seems that when the insurance inspector came down after I'd reported the loss the pantry Albert all at once went mad and said he'd got it whatever that means. What would you say?'

'Why I suppose he'd picked the thing up somewhere.'

'My dear that's just what I thought at the time. But not at all. Oh no Raunce took the trouble to explain the boy had never even seen my ring. In the meantime of course the inspector had gone back to Dublin and I received a rather odd letter from them, everything considered, and only this morning to say that in view of the circumstances they could not regard the thing as lost. Well that's quite right because I'm wearing it now. But what I can't and shall never understand is what the boy thought he had or had got, whichever it was. Now d'you think I ought to take all this further?'

'It's so complicated,' Mrs Jack complained.

'Would you advise me to have Raunce in and get to the bottom of things I mean?'

At this question the younger woman suddenly displayed unusual animation. She got up, stood with her back to the light, and began to smooth her skirts.

'Not if I were you,' she said. 'Let sleeping dogs lie.'

This answer probably made Mrs Tennant obstinate. 'But I should at least like to know where it was found,' she cried. 'Why there is Edith. Edith,' she summoned her shrilly, 'come here a moment I want you.'

The girl came modest through the open portals. She did not look at Mrs Jack.

'Where did you find my sapphire ring in the end Edith?'

'Me Madam?' she replied almost sharp, 'I never found your ring Madam.'

'But Raunce told me you did when he gave it back.'

'Not me Madam," Edith said looking at the floor.

'Then who did find it then?'

'I couldn't say Madam.'

'Oh why is there all this mystery Edith? The whole thing's most unsatisfactory.'

The housemaid stayed silent, calm and composed.

'Yes that's all how you can go,' Mrs Tennant said as though exasperated. 'Shut the door will you please?'

When they were alone again Mrs Tennant raised a hand to her ear which she tugged.

'Well there you are Violet. What d'you think?'

'I expect you heard wrong. Perhaps Raunce said someone else.'

'Oh no I'm not deaf yet. I know he named Edith.'

'Darling,' Mrs Jack entreated, 'I'm sure you're not. At all events you've got your ring back haven't you?'

'Yes but I don't like having things hang over me.'

'Hanging over you?'

'When there's something unexplained. Don't you ever feel somehow that you must get whatever it is cleared up? And then I don't think I can afford to keep the insurance going. It comes so frightfully expensive these days. But if I feel that there is someone not quite honest who perhaps was caught out by the servants and made to give the thing back then I do think it would be madness to let the insurance drop. Violet don't you find that everything now is the most frightful dilemma always? But I don't suppose you do. You're so wonderfully calm all the time dear.'

'I'm not if you only knew. But you've got so many worries with everything you have to manage.'

'That's just it. And when you feel there's someone in the house you can't trust matters become almost impossible.'

'Someone you can't trust?' the young woman asked in an agitated voice so that Mrs Tennant looked but could not see her expression, standing as she was against the light.

'Why yes,' Mrs Tennant said, 'because that ring must have been somewhere to have been found.'

'Oh of course.'

'Then Violet you don't really consider I need do any more?'

'Well I don't see why. I'd let sleeping dogs rest,' the young woman repeated.

'Well perhaps you're right. Oh and darling Violet there's this other thing. You know Agatha is ill now so that with Nanny Swift that makes two trays for every meal. As a matter of fact Jane and Mary are being very good and I've been able to ease things for the pantry by telling Raunce to discontinue the fires now it's so much warmer. The pictures won't come to any harm for the weather really is quite hot. At the same time it makes rather a lot for Edith when she has to take the children out. There's all the cleaning still to be done as usual. So I was wondering Violet darling if you could possibly take on the children a bit more after Jack's leave is up but only in the afternoons of course.'

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