BRITISH LITERATURE

MINISTRY OF EDUCATION AND TRAINING TAY DO UNIVERSITY Faculty of English Linguistics and Literature BRITISH LITERATURE Compiled by: Phan Thị Minh Uyên 2016 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to express my deepest appreciation to Dr Tran Cong Luan, the Principle of Tay Do University and my vice dean, M.A Nguyen Thi Diem Thuy the faculty of of English Linguistics and Literature to give me the great opportunity to compose this material I especially thanks and gratitude to my committee for their continued support and encouragement: Dr Nguyen Buu Huan, Dr Thai Cong Dan, for their highly comments and advice I also wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to my teaching staff, especially M.A Dang Thi Bao Dung, who assisted me in this course preparation My completion of this project could not have been accomplished without the support of my dear students who studied the English courses III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII Their encouragement inspired me to complete this course package TABLE OF CONTENTS INTRODUCTION Acknowledgement Preface Chapter One: The history of Literature A The definition of literature B History of literature C British literature types 14 Chapter Two: Poems Daffodilsby William Wordsworth 21 23 Lines written in early springby William Wordsworth 24 A red red roseby Robert Burns 28 The fleaby John Donne 31 The sun risingby John Donne 35 The broken heartby John Donne 39 When I was one and twentyby A.E Housman 41 On the idle hill of summerby A.E Housman 42 The lake of innisfreeby William Butler Yeats 44 Never give all the heartby William Butler Yeats 45 When you are oldby William Butler Yeats 46 The sorrow of loveby William Butler Yeats 47 The passionate shepherdto his loveby Christopher Marlowe 50 A nymph reply to the shepherdby Sir Walter Raleigh 52 The lamb and the tigerby William Blake 54 Chapter Three: Plays and short stories HamletbyWilliam Shakespeare 65 Romeo andJulietby William Shakespeare 68 Pride and prejudiceby Jane Austen 73 Sense and sensibilityby Jane Austen 77 Bleak houseby Charles Dickens 84 Mr Know allby William Somerset Maugham 87 The duchess and jewellerby Virginia Woolf 94 The legacyby Virginia Woolf 100 Eveline by James Joyce 107 The rocking horse winnerby David Herbert Lawrence 112 The open windowby Hector Hugh Munro (Saki) 126 The mouse by Hector Hugh Munro (Saki) 129 Frankensteinby Mary Shelly 134 Wuthering heightsby Emily Bronte 138 A shocking accidenceby Graham Greene 146 Chapter Four: Further reading Neverby H.E Bates 151 My loveday’s little outingby Evelyn Waugh 154 Arabyby James Joyce 159 Flight by Doris Lessing 164 The pearl of loveby H.G Wells 168 The Good Copby Magnus Mills 172 REFERENCES 151 176 Preface The short story is often described as one of the most satisfying literary genres, both to read and to write This courseis expected to encourage students to identify how these stories ‘work’ by considering classic examples which, in each class, illustrate a particular aspect of short story composition An exchange of ideas and responses between students and tutor enable the student to then put into practice what they have observed in a series of writing challenges, designed to extend their writing skills in this most exciting and challenging genres Given the nature of creative writing, it is important that applicants’ use of English is sufficiently fluent to be able to understand in English nuances of meaning and have a familiarize themselves the structure and grammar of English Aims of the course:  to introduce students to the art of short story writing;  to foster an understanding of various subgenres of the short story, through guided reading and interpretive commentary; and  to encourage and guide students’ own experiments with the form through practical writing exercises and Discussion questions Course content overview:  This course will begin with an introduction of what makes a short story - apart from its length - a distinct genre, introducing the elements which combine to produce the short story’s unique effect  Each week will focus on a particular short story (with reference to others) by one of the genre’s key exponents, to illustrate developments and variations in the genre The story will also be used to demonstrate a technical aspect of short story writing  Students will discover how writers achieve certain effects and be encouraged to appropriate and experiment with these techniques in their own original writing Chapter One: The history of literature Objectives By the end of this chapter, students will be able to recognize what literature is, and the history of British literature with various types A The definition of literature Literature is the art of written works Literally translated, the word means “acquaintance with letters” (from Latinlitteraletter), and therefore the academic study of literature is known as letters (as in the phrase “Arts and Letters”) In Western culture the most basic written literary types include fiction and nonfiction People may perceive a difference between “literature” and some popular forms of written work The terms “literary fiction“ and“literary merit“ serve to distinguish between individual works Critics may exclude works from the classification “literature”, for example, on the grounds of a poor standard of grammar and syntax, of an unbelievable or disjointed story-line, or of inconsistent or unconvincing characters Genre fiction (for example: romance, crime, or science fiction) may also become excluded from consideration as “literature” Literature is a term used to describe written or spoken material Broadly speaking, “literature” is used to describe anything from creative writing to more technical or scientific works, but the term is most commonly used to refer to works of the creative imagination, including works of poetry, drama, fiction, and nonfiction Literature represents a language or a people: culture and tradition But, literature is more important than just a historical or cultural artifact Literature introduces us to new worlds of experience We learn about books and literature; we enjoy the comedies and the tragedies of poems, stories, and plays; and we may even grow and evolve through our literary journey with books Ultimately, we may discover meaning in literature by looking at what the author says and how he/she says it We may interpret the author’s message In academic circles, this decoding of the text is often carried out through the use of literary theory, using a mythological, sociological, psychological, historical, or other approach Whatever critical paradigm we use to discuss and analyze literature, there is still an artistic quality to the works Literature is important to us because it speaks to us, it is universal, and it affects us Even when it is ugly, literature is beautiful.English literature is the literature written in the English language, including literature composed in English by writers not necessarily from England; Joseph Conrad was born in Poland, Robert Burns was Scottish, James Joyce was Irish, Dylan Thomas was Welsh, Edgar Allan Poe was American, V.S Naipaul was born in Trinidad, Vladimir Nabokov was Russian In other words, English literature is as diverse as the varieties and dialects of English spoken around the world In academia, the term often labels departments and programmes practicing English studies in secondary and tertiary educational systems Despite the variety of authors of English literature, works of William Shakespeare remain paramount throughout the English-speaking world This short British literary introduction primarily deals with literature from Britain written in English, some notable works listed For literature from specific English-speaking regions, literature has a history, and this connects with cultural history more widely Prose narratives were written in the 16th century, but the novel as we know it could not arise, in the absence of a literate public The popular and very contemporary medium for narrative in the 16 th century is the theatre The earliest novels reflect a bourgeois view of the world because this is the world of the authors and their readers (working people are depicted, but patronizingly, not from inside knowledge) The growth of literacy in the Victorian era leads to enormous diversification in the subjects and settings of the novel B History of British literature (Excerpt from old book bindings at the Merton College library) One of the earliest known literary works is the SumerianEpic of Gilgamesh, an epic poem dated around 2100 B.C., which deals with themes of heroism, friendship, loss, and the quest for eternal life Different historical periods have emphasized various characteristics of literature Early works often had an overt or covert religious or didactic purpose Moralizing or prescriptive literature stems from such sources The exotic nature of romance flourished from the Middle Ages onwards, whereas the Age of Reason manufactured nationalistic epics and philosophical tracts Romanticism emphasized the popular folk literature and emotive involvement, but gave way in the 19th-century West to a phase of realism and naturalism, investigations into what is real The 20th century brought demands for symbolism or psychological insight in the delineation and development of character Anglo-Saxon Literature (450-1100) is primarily limited to works from the West Saxon region of England Although few writings survived, those that have reveal a people who reveled in manipulating their language and whose feelings were not unlike modern man They delighted in riddles, and their poetry portrayed feelings of loss as well as victory Poems such as “The Dream of the Rood,” “Deor’s Lament,” and “The Husband’s Message” as well as the long epic poems are proof of their sophistication of thought and language Representative Works of the Period are:  Anglo-Saxon Chronicles by Alfred the Great? (important record of Anglo-Saxon life)  Battle of Brunnanburh (mock epic describing the invasion of Danish Vikings)  Beowulf (heroic epic, written in alliterative form with two half lines broken by a caesura)  The Ecclesiastical History of the English People by the Venerable Bede The Medieval Period (1100-1500) was a time of strong religious influence The church was the center of learning and monks acted as scribes recording the literature of the times The French tradition of courtly love whereby men were expected to love from afar and treat women with chivalry was also strongly felt Generally, the literature can be divided into two categories: secular (worldly) and religious Religious literature frequently concentrated on teaching the reader ways to a more godly life After the invasion by William the Conqueror, little Anglo-Saxon literature was produced because the language of the educated was French Middle English, as a major literary vehicle, does not appear until about 1300 Before that time, there are few instances of significant writings Literature, still dependent upon the oral tradition, was designed to be spoken rather than read and this required a poetic form Some were merely ballads such as “Bonny Barbara Allan” and “Sir Patrick Spens,” but many were long tales consistent in length with a modern novel In addition, drama began to appear in the form of Miracle Plays (lives of the saints),Mystery Plays (stories from the Old and New Testament), and Morality Plays(sermons disguised as allegories) Second Shepherds’ Play is an example of a Mystery Play Everyman is an example of a Morality Play Representative Works of the Period are:  The Bible by John Wyclif (first English translation of this work)  The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer (major work of the medieval period)  Confessio Amantis by John Gower (religious work)  Morte D’Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory (extensive recounting of the Arthurian legends)  Owl and the Nightingale (dialogue between two birds written in classical debate form)  The Pearl (carefully contrived dream tale with religious overtones.)  Piers Plowman by William Langland (work of social satire particularly critical of the clergy)  Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Arthurian tale of courtly love) The Renaissance (1500-1700) was a period of amazing literary productivity during which the church lost importance The explosion of literature was probably aided by the printing press, but nothing explains the extraordinary quality of the writing Shakespeare dominates the age, but he is not alone The concept of a renaissance man, who could fight, write poetry, and be a lover too, was the ideal of the age Drama and poetry now shared equal literary importance In addition, Greek and Latin literature was rediscovered and incorporated into the writing of the period Representative Works of the Period are: Poetry  The Fairie Queen by Edmund Spenser (religious allegory using the Spenserian stanza)  “Holy Sonnets” by John Donne (poems which mesh the physical with the spiritual)  Paradise Lost by John Milton (epic poem which recounts the Adam and Eve tale and also includes a description of hell which is frequently treated as fact)  “To His Coy Mistress” by Andrew Marvel (classic love poem) Novels  King James version of the Bible (translation of The Bible which transforms it into a piece of literature)  Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan (one of two books most read during the 18th century/early effort at a novel/written as an allegorical tale similar to theFairie Queen) Drama  Dr Faustus by Christopher Marlowe (tragedy, the literary form for which Marlowe was particularly known)  Plays by William Shakespeare (major dramas of the period and perhaps of all time) Non-fiction  Novum Organum by Francis Bacon (beginning of modern scientific inquiry) The Age of Reason (1700-1800) was a time of political turmoil Writing was more scientific and reasoned The novel as a form of literature begins to appear Writers began to rely upon the purchase by individuals of their writings to support themselves instead of upon the support of a single patron The rise of the middle class meant that writers now wrote to this group rather than the aristocracy Representative Works of the Period are: Poetry  “Elegy Written in a Country Courtyard” by Thomas Gray (poem with the stirrings of the Romantic period to follow)  “Epistle to Miss Blount” by Alexander Pope (uses the heroic couplet to its advantage)  “To A Mouse” by Robert Burns (Scottish poem which reflects the dialect of Burn’s origin as well as a movement to the Romantic period) Novels  Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift (satire)  Pamela by Samuel Richardson (first work which introduces plot into a novel)  Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe (beginning of the modern English novel using realistic details)  Tom Jones by Henry Fielding (early novel with a well-defined plot)  The Vicar of Wakefield (very fine early novel) by Oliver Goldsmith Drama  The School for Scandal by Richard Sheridan (amusing play showing life through satirical eyes)  She Stoops to Conquer (a humorous play) by Oliver Goldsmith  The Way of the World by William Congreve (humorous play) Non-fiction  Dictionary of the English Language by Samuel Johnson  Life of Samuel Johnson by James Boswell (describes with detailed accuracy the period as well as the man)  “A Modest Proposal” by Jonathan Swift (satire)  The Tattler and The Spectator by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele (early newspapers) The Romantics (1800-1830) turned away from reason and saw a rose colored world Their writings in the form of poetry focused on nature and feelings rather than the frailties of the real world The period represents only a brief interlude before a return to more pragmatic period Representative Works of the Period are: Poetry 10 When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home Still it was early I sat staring at the clock for some time and, when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house The high, cold, empty, gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress When I came downstairs again I found Mrs Mercer sitting at the fire She was an old, garrulous woman, a pawnbroker’s widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose I had to endure the gossip of the tea-table The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come Mrs Mercer stood up to go: she was sorry she couldn’t wait any longer, but it was after eight o’clock and she did not like to be out late, as the night air was bad for her When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists My aunt said: ‘I’m afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord.’ At nine o’clock I heard my uncle’s latchkey in the hall door I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat I could interpret these signs When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar He had forgotten ‘The people are in bed and after their first sleep now,’ he said I did not smile My aunt said to him energetically: ‘Can’t you give him the money and let him go? You’ve kept him late enough as it is.’ My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten He said he believed in the old saying: ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’ He asked me where I was going and, when I told him a second time, he asked me did I know The Arab’s Farewell to his Steed When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly It crept onward among ruinous houses and over the twinkling river At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors; but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar I remained alone in the bare carriage In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name I could 162 not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed in quickly through a turnstile, handing a shilling to a weary-looking man I found myself in a big hall girded at half its height by a gallery Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness I recognized a silence like that which pervades a church after a service I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly A few people were gathered about the stalls which were still open Before a curtain, over which the words Café Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were counting money on a salver I listened to the fall of the coins Remembering with difficulty why I had come, I went over to one of the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered tea-sets At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two young gentlemen I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely to their conversation ‘O, I never said such a thing!’‘O, but you did!’‘O, but I didn’t!’‘Didn’t she say that?’‘Yes I heard her.’‘O, there’s a fib!’ Observing me, the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured: ‘No, thank you.’ The young lady changed the position of one of the vases and went back to the two young men They began to talk of the same subject Once or twice the young lady glanced at me over her shoulder I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out The upper part of the hall was now completely dark Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger Discussion questions 1) What is the setting of the story? 2) What is the main theme of the story? 3) What are the protagonist and the antagonist of the story? 4) What is the climax of the story? 5) Is the main conflict in the story resolved? 163 FLIGHT By Doris Lessing Above the old man’s head was the dovecote, a tall wire-netted shelf on stilts, full of strutting, preening birds The sunlight broke on their gray breasts into small rainbows His ears were lulled by their crooning; his hands stretched up toward his favorite, a homing pigeon, a young plump-bodied bird, which stood still when it saw him and cocked a shrewd bright eye “ ‘Pretty, pretty, pretty’.he said, as he grasped the bird and drew it down, feeling the cold coral claws tighten around his finger Content he rested the bird lightly on his chest and leaned against a tree, gazing our beyond the dovecote’ into the landscape of a late afternoon In folds and hollows of-sunlight and shade, the dark red soil, which was broken into great dusty clods, stretched wide to a tall horizon Trees marked the course of the valley, a stream of rich green grass the road His eyes traveled homeward along this road until he saw his granddaughter swinging on the gate underneath a frangipani tree Her hair fell down her back in a wave of sunlight; and her long bare legs repeated the angles of the frangipani, stems, bare, shining brown stems among patterns of pale blossoms She was gazing past the pink flowers, past the railway cottage where they lived, along the road to the village His mood shifted He deliberately held out his wrist for the bird to take flight, and caught it again at the moment it spread its wings He felt the plump shape strive and strain under his fingers; and, in a sudden access of troubled spite, shut the bird into a small box and fastened the bolt ‘Now you stay there’, he muttered and turned his back on the shelf of birds He moved warily along the hedge stalking his granddaughter, who was now looped over the gate, her head loose on her arms, singing The light happy sound mingled with the crooning of the birds, and his anger mounted ‘Hey!’ he shouted, and saw her jump, look back, and abandon the gate Her eyes veiled themselves, and she said in a pert, neutral voice, ‘Hullo, Grandad’ Politely she moved toward him, after a lingering backward glance at the road ‘Waiting for Steven, hey?’ he said, his fingers curling like claws into his palm ‘Any objection?’ she asked lightly refusing to look at him He confronted her, his eyes narrowed; shoulders hunched, tight in a hard knot of pain that 164 included the preening birds, the sunlight, the flowers, herself He said, ‘Think you’re old enough to go courting, hey?’ The girl tossed her head at the old-fashioned phrase and sulked, ‘Oh, Grandad!’, ‘Think you want to leave home, hey? Think you can go running around the fields at night?’ Her smile made him see her, as he had every evening this warm end-of-summer month, swinging hand in hand along the road to the village with that red-handed, red-throated , violent-bodied youth, the son of the postmaster Misery went to his head and he shouted angrily: ‘I’ll tell your mother!’ ‘Tell away!’ she said, laughing, and went back to the gate He beard her singing, for him to hear: ‘I’ve got you under my skin I’ve got you deep in the heart of ….’ ‘Rubbish’, he shouted ‘Rubbish Impudent little bit of rubbish!’ Growling under his breath, he turned toward the dovecote, which was his refuge from the house he shared with his daughter and her husband and their children But now the house would be empty Gone all the young girls with their laugher and their squabbling and their teasing He would be left, uncherished and alone, with that square-fronted, calm-eyed woman, his daughter He stopped, muttering, before the dovecote, resenting the absorbed, cooing birds From the gate the girl shouted: Obstinately he made his way to the house, with quick, pathetic, persistent glances of appeal back at her But she never looked around Her defiant but anxious young body stung him into love and repentance He stopped ‘But I never meant.’ he muttered, waiting for her to turn and run to him ‘I didn’t mean ’ She did not turn She had forgotten him Along the road came the young man Steven, with something in his hand A present for her? The old man stiffened as he watched the gate swing hack and the couple embrace In the brittle shadows of the frangipani tree his granddaughter, his darling, lay in the arms of the postmaster’s son, and her hair flowed back over his shoulder ‘I see you!’, shouted the old man spitefully They did not move He stumped into the little whitewashed house, hearing the wooden veranda creak angrily under his feet His daughter was sewing in the front room, threading a needle held to the light He stopped again, looking back into the garden The couple were now sauntering among the bushes, laughing As he watched he saw the girl escape from the youth with a sudden mischievous movement arid run off through the flowers with him in pursuit He heard shouts, laughter, a scream, silence “But it’s not like that at all’, he muttered miserably ‘It’s not like that Why can’t you see? 165 Running and giggling, and kissing and kissing You’ll come to something quite different’ He looked at his daughter with sardonic hatred, hating himself They were caught and finished, both of them, but the girl was still running free ‘Can’t you see?’ he demanded of his invisible granddaughter, who was at that moment lying in tile thick green grass with the postmaster’s son His daughter looked at him and her eyebrows went up in tired forbearance ‘Put your birds to bed?’ she asked, humoring him ‘Lucy’, he said urgently ‘Lucy ’ ‘Well, what is it now?’ ‘She’s in the garden with Steven’ ‘Now you just sit down and have your tea’ He stumped his feet alternately, thump, thump, on the hollow wooden floor and shouted: ‘She’ll marry him I’m telling you, she’ll be marrying him next!’ His daughter rose swiftly, brought him a cup, set him a plate ‘I don’t want any tea I don’t want it, I tell you’ ‘Now, now’, she crooned ‘What’s wrong with it? Why not?’ ‘She’s eighteen Eighteen!’ ‘I was married at seventeen, and I never regretted it’ ‘Liar’, he said ‘Liar Then you should regret it Why you make your girl marry? It’s you who it What you it for? Why?’ ‘The other three have done fine They’ve three fine husbands ‘Why not Alice?’ ‘She’s the last’, he mourned ‘Can’t we keep her a bit longer?’ ‘Come, now, Dad She’ll he down the road, that’s all She’ll be here every day to see you ‘ ‘But it’s not the same’ He thought of the other three girls, transformed inside a few months from charming, petulant, spoiled children into serious young matrons ‘You never did like it when we married’, she said ‘Why not? Every time, it’s the same When I got married you made me feel like it was something wrong And my girls the same You get them all crying and miserable the way you go on Leave Alice alone She’s happy She sighed, letting her eyes linger on the sunlit garden ‘She’ll marry next month There’s no reason to wait’ ‘You’ve said they can marry?’ he said incredulously ‘Yes, Dad.‘Why not?’ she said coldly and took up her sewing His eyes stung, and he went out on to the veranda Wet spread down over his chin, and he took’ out a handkerchief and mopped his whole face The garden was empty 166 From around the comer came the young couple; but their faces were no longer set against him On the wrist of the postmaster’s son balanced a young pigeon, the light gleaming on its breast ‘For me?’ said the old man, letting the drops shake off his chin ‘For me?’ ‘Do you like it?’ The girl grabbed his hand and swung on it ‘It’s for you, Grandad Steven brought it for you’ They about him, affectionate, concerned, trying to charm away his wet eyes and his misery They took his arms and directed him to the shelf of birds, one on each side enclosing him, petting him, saying wordlessly that nothing would be changed, nothing could change, and that they would be with him always The bird was proof of it, they said, from their lying happy eyes, as they’ thrust it on him ‘The Grandad, it’s yours It’s for you’ They watched him as he held it on his wrist, stroking its soft, sun-warmed back, watching the wing lift and balance ‘You must shut it up for a bit’, said the girl intimately, ‘until it knows this is its home’ ‘Teach your grandmother to suck eggs’ growled the old man Released by his half-deliberate anger, they fell back, laughing athim ‘We’re glad you like it’ They moved off, now serious and full of purpose, to the gate, where they hung, backs to him, talking quietly “More than anything could, their grown up seriousness shut him out, making him alone; also, it quietened him, took the sting out of their’ tumbling like puppies on the grass They had forgotten him again Well, so they should, the old man reassured himself, feeling his throat clotted with tears, his lips trembling He held the new bird to his face, for the caress of its silken feathers Then he shut it in a box and took out his favor.ite ‘Now you can go’, he said aloud He held poised, ready for flight, while he looked down the garden toward the boy and the girl Then, clenched in the pain of loss, he lifte4 the bird on his wrist and watched it soar A whirr and a spatter of wings, and a cloud of birds rose into the evening from the dovecote At the gate Alice and Steven forgot their talk and watched the birds On the veranda, that woman, his daughter, stood gazing, her eyes shaded with a hand that still held her sewing It seemed to the old man that the whole afternoon had stilled to watch his gesture of self-command, that even the leaves of the trees had stopped shaking Dry-eyed and calm, he let his hands fall to his sides and stood erect, staring up into the sky The cloud of shining silver birds flew up and up, with a shrill cleaving of wings, over the dark ploughed land and the darker belts of trees and the bright folds of grass, until they floated high in the sunlight, like a cloud of motes of dust They wheeled in a wide circle, tilting their wings so there was flash after flash of light, and one after another they dropped from the sunshine of the upper sky to shadow, one after 167 another, returning to the shadowed earth over trees and grass and field, returning to the valley and the shelter of night The garden was all a fluster and a flurry of returning birds Then silence, and the sky was empty The old man turned, slowly, taking his time; he lifted his eyes to smile proudly down the garden at his granddaughter She was staring at him She did not smile She was wide eyed and pale in the cold shadow, and he saw the tears run shivering off her face Discussion questions 1) What is the setting of the story? 2) What is the main theme of the story? 3) What are the protagonist and the antagonist of the story? 4) What is the climax of the story? 5) Is the main conflict in the story resolved? THE PEARL OF LOVE By H.G Wells The pearl is lovelier than the most brilliant of crystalline stones, the moralist declares, because it is made through the suffering of a living creature About that I can say nothing because I feel none of the fascination of pearls Their cloudy luster moves me not at all Nor can I decide for myself upon that age long dispute whether The Pearl of Love is the cruelest of stories or only a gracious fable of the immortality of beauty Both the story and the controversy will be familiar to students of mediaeval Persian prose The story is a short one, though the commentary upon it is a respectable part of the literature of that period They have treated it as a poetic invention and they have treated it as an allegory meaning this, that, or the other thing Theologians have had their copious way with it, dealing with it particularly as concerning the restoration of the body after death, and it has been greatly used as a parable by those who write about aesthetics And many have held it to be the statement of a fact, simply and baldly true The story is laid in North India, which is the most fruitful soil for sublime love stories of all the lands in the world It was in a country of sunshine and lakes and rich forests and hills and fertile valleys; and far away the great mountains in the sky, peaks, crests, and ridges of inaccessible and eternal snow There was a young prince, lord of all the land; and he found a 168 maiden of indescribable beauty and delightfulness and he made her his queen and laid his heart at her feet Love was theirs, full of joys and sweetness, full of hope, exquisite, brave and marvelous love, beyond anything you have ever dreamt of love It was theirs for a year and a part of a year; and then suddenly, because of some venomous sting that came to her in a thicket, she died She died and for a while the prince was utterly prostrated He was silent and motionless with grief They feared he might kill himself, and he had neither sons nor brothers to succeed him For two days and nights he lay upon his face, fasting, across the foot of the couch which bore her calm and lovely body Then he arose and ate, and went about very quietly like one who has taken a great resolution He caused her body to be put in a coffin of lead mixed with silver, and for that he had an outer coffin made of the most precious and scented woods wrought with gold, and about that there was to be a sarcophagus of alabaster, inlaid with precious stones And while these things were being done he spent his time for the most part by the pools and in the garden-houses and pavilions and groves and in those chambers in the palace where they two had been most together, brooding upon her loveliness He did not rend his garments nor defile himself with ashes and sackcloth as the custom was, for his love was too great for such extravagances At last he came forth again among his councilors and before the people, and told them what he had a mind to He said he could never more touch woman, he could never more think of them, and so he would find a seemly youth to adopt for his heir and train him to his task, and that he would his princely duties as became him; but that for the rest of it, he would give himself with all his power and all his strength and all his wealth, all that he could command, to make a monument worthy of his incomparable, dear, lost mistress A building it should be of perfect grace and beauty, more marvelous than any other building had ever been or could ever be, so that to the end of time it should be a wonder, and men would treasure it and speak of it and desire to see it and come from all the lands of the earth to visit and recall the name and the memory of his queen And this building he said was to be called the Pearl of Love And this his councilors and people permitted him to do, and so he did Year followed year and all the years he devoted himself to building and adorning the Pearl of Love A great foundation was hewn out of the living rock in a place whence one seemed to be looking at the snowy wilderness of the great mountain across the valley of the world Villages and hills there were, a winding river, and very far away three great cities Here they put the sarcophagus of alabaster beneath a pavilion of cunning workmanship; and about it there were set pillars of strange and lovely stone and wrought and fretted walls, and a great casket of masonry bearing a dome and pinnacles and cupolas, as exquisite as a jewel At first the design 169 of the Pearl of Love was less bold and subtle than it became later At first it was smaller and more wrought and encrusted; there were many pierced screens and delicate clusters of rosyhued pillars, and the sarcophagus lay like a child that sleeps among flowers The first dome was covered with green tiles, framed and held together by silver, but this was taken away again because it seemed close, because it did not soar grandly enough for the broadening imagination of the prince For by this time he was no longer the graceful youth who had loved the girl queen He was now a man, grave and intent, wholly set upon the building of the Pearl of Love With every year of effort he had learnt new possibilities in arch and wall and buttress; he had acquired greater power over the material he had to use and he had learnt of a hundred stones and hues and effects that he could never have thought of in the beginning His sense of colour had grown finer and colder; he cared no more for the enameled gold-lined brightness that had pleased him first, the brightness of an illuminated missal; he sought now for blue colourings like the sky and for the subtle hues of great distances, for recondite shadows and sudden broad floods of purple opalescence and for grandeur and space He wearied altogether of carvings and pictures and inlaid ornamentation and all the little careful work of men “Those were pretty things,” he said of his earlier decorations; and had them put aside into subordinate buildings where they would not hamper his main design Greater and greater grew his artistry With awe and amazement people saw the Pearl of Love sweeping up from its first beginnings to a superhuman breadth and height and magnificence They did not know clearly what they had expected, but never had they expected so sublime a thing as this “Wonderful are the miracles,” they whispered, “that love can do,” and all the women in the world, whatever other loves they had, loved the prince for the splendour of his devotion Through the middle of the building ran a great aisle, a vista, that the prince came to care for more and more From the inner entrance of the building he looked along the length of an immense pillared gallery and across the central area from which the rose-hued columns had long since vanished, over the top of the pavilion under which lay the sarcophagus, through a marvelously designed opening, to the snowy wildernesses of the great mountain, the lord of all mountains, two hundred miles away The pillars and arches and buttresses and galleries soared and floated on either side, perfect yet unobtrusive, like great archangels waiting in the shadows about the presence of God When men saw that austere beauty for the first time they were exalted, and then they shivered and their hearts bowed down Very often would the prince come to stand there and look at that vista, deeply moved and not yet 170 fully satisfied The Pearl of Love had still something for him to do, he felt, before his task was done Always he would order some little alteration to be made or some recent alterations to be put back again And one day he said that the sarcophagus would be clearer and simpler without the pavilion; and after regarding it very steadfastly for a long time, he had the pavilion dismantled and removed The next day he came and said nothing, and the next day and the next Then for two days he stayed away altogether Then he returned, bringing with him an architect and two master craftsmen and a small retinue All looked, standing together silently in a little group, amidst the serene vastness of their achievement No trace of toil remained in its perfection It was as if the God of nature’s beauty had taken over their offspring to himself Only one thing there was to mar the absolute harmony There was a certain disproportion about the sarcophagus It had never been enlarged, and indeed how could it have been enlarged since the early days It challenged the eye; it nicked the streaming lines In that sarcophagus was the casket of lead and silver, and in the casket of lead and silver was the queen, the dear immortal cause of all this beauty But now that sarcophagus seemed no more than a little dark oblong that lay incongruously in the great vista of the Pearl of Love It was as if someone had dropped a small valise upon the crystal sea of heaven Long the prince mused, but no one knew the thoughts that passed through his mind At last he spoke He pointed “Take that thing away,” he said Discussion questions 1) What is the setting of the story? 2) What is the main theme of the story? 3) What are the protagonist and the antagonist of the story? 4) What is the climax of the story? 5) Is the main conflict in the story resolved? 171 THE GOOD COP By Magnus Mills The first time he came into the room I thought he had a rather preoccupied look about him It was as if his mind was fully engaged in trying to solve some formidable problem, one that had been imposed upon him by powers beyond his control He paid no attention to me, although I was the only person present, and instead paced around the floor, moving from one comer to the next, until eventually he arrived back at the door This he opened, glancing briefly outside before closing it again “All right,” he said, finally breaking his silence “I’ve only got a few minutes, but if we’re quick we should be able to get all this settled before he comes back.” “Before who comes back?” I asked Only then did he look directly into my face I saw that he was a tired, pale man, obviously overworked, wearing a shirt and tie (no jacket), his blue eyes regarding me through a pair of heavy spectacles He remained standing for several long moments, then settled down in the chair opposite mine, at the other side of the desk After removing his glasses, he leant forward and rested his head in his hands “You’re not going to be difficult, are you?” he sighed I said nothing “Because if you’re going to be difficult it makes things very difficult for me.” He raised his eyes to meet mine Without the glasses they seemed weak, and gave him a sad, vulnerable appearance “I only came in here to see if I could help matters along, but if you’re going to be difficult there’s very little I can Don’t you understand it would all be so much easier if you let me help?” He continued gazing across at me, his whole face appealing to me to accept his offer “Well,” I said “What is it you want to exactly? To help.” His look brightened “I want you to trust me.” ”Why?” I enquired After a short pause he replaced his glasses and smiled “Because I’m your friend.” The second time he came into the room he winced when the door clicked shut, as if the sharp sound was an intrusion, jarring the senses unnecessarily Then he crept to the chair opposite mine and sat down, quiet as a mouse “Shouts a lot, doesn’t he?” he ventured I was about to ask, “Who does?” when he put his finger to his lips and frowned.“It’s all right,” he said “There won’t be any shouting while 172 I’mhere, you can rely on that Your ears can enjoy a well-earned rest We’ll have a nice gentle talk, just the two of us, and you can tell me all about it.” I shrugged “There isn’t much to tell.” This brought another smile to his face, a broad, open smile of kindness and understanding “Yes, I suppose that’s how it must seem from where you’re sitting A barrage of questions, questions, and more questions until eventually you feel as if there’s nothing left to say But let me ask you something Have I asked you any questions?” “None to speak of, no.” He held out his hands, palm upwards “Well then Not once have I shouted at you, or criticised you, or demanded to know anything Like I said before, I simply want you to trust me, to think of me as your friend.” He reached into his pocket and produced a bar of chocolate, which he passed across the desk “Here you are Expect you could with a bite to eat, couldn’t you?” “Yes, thanks,” I said, unwrapping the chocolate and breaking off a chunk “I have been here rather a long time.” ”Three or four hours?” ”At least.” ”That is a long time,” he agreed, puffing his cheeks out “Yes, that must be the worst part The interminable waiting Never knowing what’s going to happen, and always wondering who’ll be the next person to come through that door.” ”I hadn’t thought of it like that,” I said “To tell the truth.” ”Really?” he asked ”Really,” I replied “Well, I’m sure you will very soon.” He stood up and glanced at his watch “Look, I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back shortly I promise In the meantime I’d keep that chocolate hidden if I were you.” The third time he came into the room he looked deeply troubled He was carrying a steaming hot towel, which he tossed to me before going over to the wall and leaning on one elbow, eyes closed, his fingers pressed hard against his brow He maintained this stance for well over a minute Meanwhile, I made full use of the towel, running it over my face and head, and breathing deeply as the vapours entered my pores When at last he spoke his voice was grave “I’m dreadfully sorry about this, dreadfully, dreadfully sorry That man can be such a beast at times A monster None the less, you must understand that he’s only doing his “ All of a sudden he broke off, and I looked up to see that he was staring at me with a startled expression on his face He came forward and gave me a closer look, then slumped down in the chair opposite mine 173 “Are you all right?” he asked ”Never better.” ”Not feeling rough?” ”No, not at all.” ”Well then you’d better let me have the towel back I’m afraid everything has to be accounted for these days You know how things are Nice and refreshing, was it?” “Yes, thanks,” I replied “A great comfort.” My words seemed to perk him up again, because he quickly rose to his feet and walked around the room saying, “Good, good A great comfort That’s very good.” Then he halted in his tracks and turned to face me again “The trouble is that it’s likely to get worse.” ”Is it?” “Oh, yes, much, much worse And of course there’ll be little I can about it because I won’t be here to speak up for you.” ”But I thought you said you were going to help.” ”Well yes,” he stammered “I am going to help you, yes I am But I can only that ” ”When you come back,” I interrupted ”Er yes, that’s quite right I can only help you when I come back.” The fourth time he entered the room he was sweating profusely His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and his tie had come loose Under his arm he carried a sheaf of papers, which he hurriedly laid out on the desk, glancing at me from time to time and adjusting his glasses when they slipped down his nose “Dear oh dear,” he said, breathing heavily “Looks like we have an administrative problem Can you remember what time you were brought in?” ”I wasn’t brought in,” I replied “I came of my own accord.” ”What!” he said, plainly taken aback “Whatever possessed you to such a thing?” ”I thought it was the best course of action under the circumstances.” He put his hand to his head and began pacing around in an agitated manner “Have you any idea what goes on here?” he demanded “In this very room?” ”Well,” I answered “Nothing most of the time, from what I’ve seen.” ”Nothing!? Nothing!? How can you say that after what you’ve been through? Hour after hour of interrogation, verbal abuse and the ever-present threat of physical violence, and you call that nothing!” ”But there’s only been you here,” I said “And you were kind enough to give me a bar of chocolate.” He stood stock still, stared at me for several seconds, then marched out of the room When he came back I noticed he had changed his shirt The new one was ironed, crisp and white, and his tie was knotted perfectly at the centre of his collar He was also wearing a stiffly pressed jacket “Sorry about all that earlier,” he said, taking the seat opposite mine “Staff shortages.” “Thought so,” I said “You’re the good cop, aren’t you?” To my surprise he reached over and slapped me hard across the face “Silence!” he barked “We will ask the questions!” 174 Discussion questions 1) What is the setting of the story? 2) What is the main theme of the story? 3) What are the protagonist and the antagonist of the story? 4) What is the climax of the story? 5) Is the main conflict in the story resolved? 175 REFERENCES Andrea Arnold (Director), Andrea Arnold Wuthering Heights by Emily andOlivia Hetreed Brontë (screenplay), (2011) Wuthering based on Height.[Motion picture].Ecosse Films Company http://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/a/american-poets-of-the-20th-century/how-toanalyze-poetry http://www.enotes.com/topics/how-analyze-poem http://www.online-literature.com/ http://www.vaniercollege.qc.ca/tlc/tipsheets/reading-and-analyzing/analysing-shortstories.pdf Joe Wright (Director), Deborah Moggach (screenplay) based on Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (2005) Pride and Prejudice [Motion picture].Universal Studios Home Entertainment USA Jane Lin (Director), Emma Thompson (screenplay) based on Sense & Sensibility by Jane Austen (1995) Sense & Sensibility.[Motion picture].Columbia Motion Picture Lộc, Lê Huy, (2003) Nhập môn văn học Anh Nhà xuất ĐH Quốc Gia TP Hồ Chí Minh Paul Mc Guigan (Director), Max Landis (screenplay).(2015) Frankenstein [Motion picture] Pandshore Entertianment Company USA Tánh, Nguyễn Trung, (n.d.) Dẫn luận văn học, in lần thứ Sài Gòn: Nhà xuất TP Hồ Chí Minh Toán, Bùi Minh, (2008).Giáo trình dẫn luận ngôn ngữ học, Nhà xuất Đại học Sư phạm, Hà Nội Thu, Nguyễn Thị Kiều (2008).Giáo trình văn học Anh.Nhà xuất ĐH Quốc Gia TP Hồ Chí Minh Uyên, Phan Thị Minh (2013).Giáo trình văn chương Anh, Lưu hành nội 176 ... (experimental play) THE HISTORY OF BRITISH LITERATURE SUMMARY British literature refers to literature associated with the United Kingdom, Isle of Man, Channel Islands, as well as to literature from England,... history of literature Objectives By the end of this chapter, students will be able to recognize what literature is, and the history of British literature with various types A The definition of literature. .. INTRODUCTION Acknowledgement Preface Chapter One: The history of Literature A The definition of literature B History of literature C British literature types 14 Chapter Two: Poems Daffodilsby William