Tag Archives: RKS British Literature

RKS British Literature: Happiness and the Economic Hazards of Life (John Fowles)

‘Wealth is a monster. It takes a month to learn to control it financially. And many years to learn to control it psychologically. For those many years I lived a selfish life. I offered myself every pleasure. I travelled a great deal. I lost some money in the theatre, but I made much more onContinue reading “RKS British Literature: Happiness and the Economic Hazards of Life (John Fowles)”

RKS British Literature: AN EXCELLENT DEFINITION OF MAN (John Fowles)

‘Victims?’ ‘Whatever you call people who are made to suffer without being given the choice.’ ‘That sounds like an excellent definition of man.’ John Fowles, “The Magus”, 1977.

RKS British Literature: About Being an Air Hostess (John Fowles)

She began to talk about being an air hostess; about herself. ‘Oh Jesus, excitement. That lasts about a couple of duties. New faces, new cities, new romances with handsome pilots. Most of the pilots think we are part of the aircrew amenities. Just queuing up to be blessed by their miserable old Battle-of-Britain cocks. IContinue reading “RKS British Literature: About Being an Air Hostess (John Fowles)”

RKS British Literature: Hitler Did Not Betray Himself (John Fowles)

‘The human race is unimportant. It is the self that must not be betrayed.’ ‘I suppose I could say that Hitler didn’t betray his self.’ He turned. ‘You are right. He did not. That was the tragedy. Not that one man had the courage to be evil. But that millions had not the courage toContinue reading “RKS British Literature: Hitler Did Not Betray Himself (John Fowles)”

RKS British Literature: A Mad Lust Not to be Killed (John Fowles)

Desolation. Rubble, fragments of plastered wall, broken rafters, the yellow splashes of lyddite everywhere, The drizzle that had started again gleaming on the stones. On the skin of corpses. Many Germans had been caught in the houses. In ten minutes I saw a summary of the whole butcher’s shop of war. The blood, the gapingContinue reading “RKS British Literature: A Mad Lust Not to be Killed (John Fowles)”

RKS British Literature: The Brigadier and His Dutiful Wife (John Fowles)

I had long before made the discovery that I lacked the parents and ancestors I needed. My father was, through being the right age at the right time rather than through any great professional talent, a brigadier; and my mother was the very model of a would-be major-general’s wife. That is, she never argued withContinue reading “RKS British Literature: The Brigadier and His Dutiful Wife (John Fowles)”

RKS British Literature: Hatred of the Brabant and Flemish Mercenaries (Henry Gilbert)

The Englishmen hated these foreign invaders with a hatred too deadly for mercy, and as they shot them down they knew their arrows were loaded with vengeance for unutterable deeds of murder and cruelty committed upon defenceless women, little children, and unweaponed men, when these marauding wretches had spread like plague through the land underContinue reading “RKS British Literature: Hatred of the Brabant and Flemish Mercenaries (Henry Gilbert)”

RKS British Literature: The King’s Justice Worth No More Than a Roast Pippin (Henry Gilbert)

‘Softly, good marshal,’ replied Robin with a laugh. ‘Ye know who I am, and ye know that I reckon the king’s justice or his marshal at no more worth than a roast pippin. Thy justice!’. He laughed scornfully. ‘What is it? A thing ye sell to the rich lords and the evil-living prelates, while youContinue reading “RKS British Literature: The King’s Justice Worth No More Than a Roast Pippin (Henry Gilbert)”

RKS British Literature: A Great Fear and Dread of the Forest (Henry Gilbert)

The forest he had heard was a place of dread, for the other villeins had told terrible tales. Of monsters who flew by night and hid in dark thickets by day to snap up unwary travellers; of hills from whose tops at night the glow of fire shone forth, and within which little dark elvesContinue reading “RKS British Literature: A Great Fear and Dread of the Forest (Henry Gilbert)”