I can recommend this warmly, very warmly, very warmly indeed. It is a well-written work of literature, by the author of the better known “Moonfleet” and, next on my list, “The Lost Stradivarius “.
““The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a hell of heaven, a heaven of hell.” Of all earthly consolations this is the greatest, that the mind is its own place. The mind is an impregnable fortress which can be held against all comers, the mind is a sanctuary open day or […]
Here I am reminded of Trollope’s withering bathetic irony in The Warden: ”Richard Vinnicomb’s generosity extended beyond the mere purchase of the building, for he left in addition a sum to support the dignity of a daily service, with a complement of three chaplains, an organist, ten singing-men, and sixteen choristers. But the negligence of […]
“It is the same feeling that makes the half-witted attend funerals and church services. At such times they feel themselves to be for once on an equal footing with their fellow-men: all are reduced to the same level; there are no speeches to be made, no accounts to be added up, no counsels to be […]
A fine work of suspense, by John Meade Faulkner, author of Moonfleet, which I reread last week with at least as much delight as when I was a child.
I feel like there’s an old Australian tale about a bloke here doing something similar!
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