[[ download Textbooks ]] Party GoingAuthor Henry Green – 91videos.co

Lots of awful people trapped in a couple of hotel rooms at Victoria Station.Bits Anyone who found herself alone with Julia could not help feeling they had been left in charge I won t have you watching yourself in the mirror when you re kissing me It proves you don t love me and anyway no nice person does that Already the acetone she had filled this room with its smell of peardrops like a terrible desert blossom. There s a fog upon L.A.And my friends have lost their wayWe ll be over soon they saidNow they ve lost themselves instead.Please don t be long please don t you be very long.This, maybe the worst Beatles song, kept droning in my head as I read this novel because of the fog, because of the droning, because of a trip delayed, and because it s possibly the worst effort of an artist I like Although it starts well Fog was so dense, bird that had been disturbed went flat into a balustrade and slowly fell, dead, at her feet.The bird was a pigeon and the feet belonged to Miss Fellowes, who fared only a little better than the pigeon I missed the significance, even though the author kept bringing it up That s on me, as professional athletes, who don t mean it, say I ll try to keep it simpler.This is a book about insufferable people acting insufferably They are well to do Brits in the 1930s No one has a job, as far as I could tell They drink instead, and consider mating Max, the richest by far, decides they will all go to France for three weeks They meet at the train station, but the fog that betrayed the pigeon halts all other transport as well Thousands of citizens wait, body to body To push through this crowd was like trying to get through bamboo or artichokes grown closely together or thousands of tailors dummies stored warm on a warehouse floor. But the insufferables repair to three hotel rooms, drinks are served, and mating is considered Everyone is put out There are gender issues It was all the fault of these girls it was these desperate inexperienced bitches. And, looking down at humanity from their rooms, class issuesMy dears, she said panting, they ve broken in below, isn t it too awful Why, all those people outside of course, said Julia, and they re all drunk, naturally But what are we to do They won t come and kill us in our beds because we aren t in bed Oh, but then they ll come up here and be dirty and violent They ll probably try and kiss us or something As I said, insufferable But not a very subtle portrayal. Party Going is a piece of human comedy but it isn t without its tragic overtones and a fine dose of absurdity The departure of a train was delayed due to the soupy fog so the story is a scrupulous description, full of subtle psychological observations, of the process of waiting The tale is told in the cinematographic way and the camera constantly tosses from character to character There is not a personage without some whimsy or peculiarity and Henry Green is always profound than it may seem.Max therefore was reckoned to be of importance, he was well known, he moved in circles made up of people older than himself, and there was no girl of his own age like Julia, Claire Hignam or Miss Crevy even Evelyna Henderson although she was hardly in it who did not feel something when they were on his arm, particularly when he was so good looking Again one of his attractions was that they all thought they could stop him drinking, not that he ever got drunk because he had not yet lost his head for drink, but they were all sure that if they married him they could make him into something quite wonderful, and that they could get him away from all those other women, or so many of them as were not rather friends of their own.This is a portrait of the rich host of a party as seen with one of his admirers eyes.It was all the fault of these girls It had been such fun in old days when they had just gone and no one had minded what happened They had been there to enjoy themselves and they had been friends but if you were girls and went on a party then it seemed to him you thought only of how you were doing, of how much it looked to others you were enjoying yourself and worse than that of how much whoever might be with you could give you reasons for enjoying it Or, in other words, you competed with each other in how well you were doing well and doing well was getting off with the rich man in the party Whoever he might be such treatment was bad for him Max was not what he had been No one could have people fighting over him and stay himself It was not Amabel s fault, she was all right even if she did use him, it was these desperate inexperienced bitches, he thought, who never banded together but fought everyone and themselves and were like camels, they could go on for days without one sup of encouragement Under their humps they had tanks of self confidence so that they could cross any desert area of arid prickly pear without one compliment, or dewdrop as they called it in his family, to uphold them.And those are thoughts of the host about his admirers.Much time of our lives is spent in waiting and many crucial events may happen while we wait Stylistically this is similar to the two other Green novels I ve just read Living and Loving It is breathless dialogue with very little interior monologue, certainly in the modernist tradition On the surface it is a simple story, but it took Green from 1931 to 1938 to write it It is set over 4 hours at a train station A group of young wealthy socialites meet at a train station to go on holiday to the South of France this is towards the end of the era of the Bright Young Things A thick London fog has descended and all trains are stopped The station begins to fill with people and close contact with the lower and middle classes isn t that attractive, so they take some rooms in the station hotel They spend most of the novel bickering and flirting There is also an aunt in tow and she is taken ill and put to bed The characters are all pretty vacuous and empty headed and on the surface it can be seen as a satire on idle rich youth because pretty much nothing happens in the novel At one level that is true the characters are in their hotel rooms bickering and looking out of the Windows down on the heaving masses below However there is much going on At one point there is a description of a picture on the wall of Nero fiddling whilst Rome burns juxtaposed with Max the main character around whom much revolves looking out at the crowds below All the girls seem to be interchangeable, whilst most of the men are just irritants The girls names are even fluid Evelyn changes to Evelyna and back There is also an amorality about it and it does seem as though these rich young people are as amorphous and anonymous as the masses Then there is the strange figure who seems to move between the crowds and the group in the hotel, switching accents as he does so and appears to belong in both worlds There is also the dead pigeon which the aunt picks up and washes before she is taken ill she carries it wrapped in brown paper.Green plays with space familiar space becoming unfamiliar and threatening, members of the group losing and finding each other in the station and occupying the same space at different times before they all move above the familiar space to unfamiliar rooms.The sense of oddness is heightened by the fog with the faces of the crowd having pale lozenged faces as one critic points out, very like Munch s The Scream Movement and tension revolve around a hollow centre as the crowd become threatening and the girls worry about being murdered in their beds by the faceless masses.Of course you could go along with Frank Kermode and see the whole piece as being laced with the imagery of Greek mythology revolving round a Hermes figure.Green is a very clever writer who teases the reader by hding all sorts of little messages and images I enjoyed this it pulls the mind in different directions but the characters are much less sympathetic than in the other two of Green s novels I have read It was worth the effort though. A novel about some Bright Young Things getting stuck at the train station, waiting for the London fog to lift, so they can get their party going Reminded me a bit of Vile Bodies in the way it mocks and prods at the pettiness and soullessness of these dreadful spoilt rich people, in contrast to the masses huddled together on the platforms below I actually find Henry Green quite tricky to read, i d forgotten this, i mean it s almost as if he writes sentences in a deliberately ass backwards way just to put you all out of whack, the modernist sod. a re reading Fog was so dense, bird that had been disturbed went flat into a balustrade and slowly fell, dead, at her feet.reading Henry Green is like a dream, even what should be tedious, the game playing, teasing and mocking among the vapid rich the wonderful few, Max with his three suitors at his back, beauty rising from the bath, always the crowd outside emphasising their special ness Green shows they don t deserve it, they are frivolous and uninvolved in society wide issues, although they have the power to make trains wait, but on the other hand they re just humans subject to whims and embarrassments like those in the crowd on the station forecourt When this mass is individualised the working class come across cheekily, one on top of another s shoulder to reach the maids in an upstairs window, stoic, not bitter, or only individually so, as petty as those locked in too Death is seeping everywhere like the fog, the ill aunty who people try to ignore or intermittently attend, with her wrapped up dead pigeon, the luggage like tombstones attended by mourners, the dark and the fog obscuring And every few pages a passage that leaves you floating, touched like Amabel, Green flirts and teases with you, wooing all the time So it s a dream but one that makes you feel alert and receptive His awkward phrasing, sometimes blunt images make you back up a bit The writing sticks in you It s what you want novels fiction to do Well, me anyway. When a thick fog stops the trains in London, a group of upper class Brits, funded by their richest member, can t leave for their planned holiday in the south of France They take refuge in the train station s adjacent hotel and continue the ongoing drawing room comedy of their lives, flirting with and and gossiping about one another, fretting about who is most likely to win rich Max s affections, and looking in on a subplot in which a not so elderly aunt collapses after a single drink at the bar For upstairs downstairs relief, Green s thwarted traveling party occasionally looks out the window at the masses of frustrated commuters pouring onto the platform below and wonders if their personal attendants are managing to keep their luggage safe from the throng s grasping hands.Party Going is a short novel, whimsically and artfully written, that reads like a short story The main characters, not compelled by economic necessity to be other than they are, do not develop They are like a group of seals tossing balls of plot from nose to nose, barking with pleasure and generally being impervious to what any outside observer might make of them.This is an antic book full of Green s peculiarly effective dramatizations of wooing and wounding The scenes in which Amabel decides to have a bath while waiting for the fog to lift and everyone else remains clothed and perturbed about her naked in the tub beyond the door and in which she masterfully manipulates Max who ultimately figures out how to crawl out of her clutches are priceless.Putting his stylistic quirkiness to effective use, Green elides distinct interactions without any transition to highlight the sameness of this social class s features it s often unclear who is talking and who that who is, i.e., what s the difference between Evelyn and Miss Crevy, and which of them, if either, is married to Robert This is a novel that has echoes of Chekhov in it while ploughing again the English furrows first gouged by Samuel Richardson and William Makepeace Thackeray And for whimsy let s keep the most original English stylist in mind, Laurence Sterne.I have one question I need to answer out of personal curiosity Why did it take Henry Green seven years to write this book Not that it isn t worth that much time, but what was the hang up when he so obviously knew exactly what he was doing For eons, I have heard the name Henry Green as a mysterious figure out of London who wrote marvelous books The titles are intriguing because they are mostly one worded titles such as Loving, Living, Concluding, and the intriguing title of them all, Nothing I started my Henry Green by reading Party Going It s a very strange book The narration is a group of wealthy people who are waiting for a train to take them to a party They can t go, due to dense fog, and therefore they have to wait at the station and later at a hotel near the train station What we have is a portrait of a class of people who are separated from others, as they notice the comings and goings of people who may be considered lower than them The book has a sense of humor, but it is also a bleakness that rings through the novel Written in the 1930s, it may be based on the Cecil Beaton crowd at the time Or not While reading the novel, I got the impression perhaps these people are dead, and they are just waiting at the hotel station till they decide to either go to hell or heaven On my part, I think that is a wrong reading of the text on my part One gets a picture in the mind of being stranded in a location due to the thick and iconic fog of London I imagine these people are well dressed and ready to party but alas, the party doesn t happen, in fact, as the title states, it s Party Going Not Part Arriving or The Party it s a party that s moving, but in truth, they are not moving They re going nowhere There are surreal touches such as a dead pigeon, and I thought of Luis Bunuel s later film works while reading Party Going But this is a book from a different time I think and aesthetic It s like a serious version of a P.G Wodehouse novel It s a unique novel because I feel that there is nothing else like Henry Green out there. and off they go, the pretty young things, the butterflies, brainless and heartless and full of their excruciatingly minuscule plans and ambitions lacking any true purpose in their movements, any depth in their thoughts even butterfly lives have meaning and to see them off an old wounded pigeon, barely conscious, immobilized by her spinsterish neuroses and an unwise helping of whiskey the butterflies fly about her, scarcely seeing her and certainly not understanding her ways how could they they are of a different species the butterflies flutter to and fro, up and down and across, thinking that their little hothouse is the whole wide world a novel crammed with dialogue, true to life but only to a certain kind of life one filled to the brim with willful passivity and micro aggression artifice and constant passive aggressiveness a book about minutia Henry Green tracks every small movement, each feint and barb, every blinding bit of quickly shut down anger, every muffled explosion when some sad person tries to stake a claim then dies just a wee bit on the inside as their barely conceived plots and shallow facades crumble away but can something without life even die this novel about various English socialites attempt at a lark across the channel but stuck waiting for a fogbound train took many years to write, perhaps to get each and every little, little thing just right the result should have been a chore to read, but it was a tart delight, the participants in this farce too harmless to warrant much than sneers and snide laughter at the thought of their various trials, tribulations, and heartbreaks off with their pretty little heads but no, that would simply be too cruel, despite what Green may want his empty vessels are appalling but also amusing, sometimes even fascinating their minds so full of vague recollections, odd repetitions, and puerile musings misunderstood as meaningful Party Going is a carefully designed piece of work a display of tinted glass beads disguised as jewels and colorful vapors pretending to be shapes a perfect encapsulation of Sartre s Hell is other people it is, most of all, a poison pen letter by turns giddy and melancholy, but always sharply pointed written to the upper classes of England s yesteryear let them eat cake, and only cake, for the rest of their so called lives review for Living herereview for Loving here A Group Of Rich, Spoiled And Idle Young People Heading Off On A Winter Holiday Are Stranded At A Railway Station When Their Train Is Delayed By Thick, Enclosing Fog Party Going Describes Their Four Hour Wait In A London Railway Hotel Where They Shelter From The Grim Weather And The Throngs Of Workers On The Platform Below