By V. S. Pritchett
ISBN-10: 0199583137
ISBN-13: 9780199583133
V. S. Pritchett, one our best short-story writers, has selected 41 tales written within the English language for this quantity, generating a suite that effectively screens the wealth and diversity of an artwork that spans a few two hundred years. nice Britain, the United States, and particularly ireland have effective traditions of short-story writing that experience built from the time of Sir Walter Scott and Nathaniel Hawthorne, whereas within the final century the paintings used to be perfected by means of Ernest Hemingway, D. H. Lawrence, W. Somerset Maugham, John Updike, and V. S. Pritchett himself. The Irish contribution comprises such masters as James Joyce, Frank O'Connor, and Liam O'Flaherty, and tales by way of Canadian, Indian, New Zealand, and Australian writers exhibit the entire variety of invention and talent in a style that maintains to flourish.
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Extra info for The Oxford Book of Short Stories (Oxford Books of Prose & Verse)
Sample text
She could hear his voice in the distant furnace room giving directions to Aminadab, whose harsh, uncouth, misshapen tones were audible in response, more like the grunt or growl of a brute than human speech. After hours of absence, Aylmer reappeared and proposed that she should now examine his cabinet of chemical products and natural treasures of the earth. Among the former he showed her a small vial, in which, he remarked, was contained a gentle yet most powerful fragrance, capable of impregnating all the breezes that blow across a kingdom.
But this time he stood opposite to his antagonist; his open and unsuspecting look strangely contrasted with the stern purpose, which gleamed wild, dark, and vindictive in the eyes of the Highlander. ' i can fight,' answered Robin Oig sternly, but calmly, 'and you shall know it. ' He seconded the word with the action, and plunged the dagger, which he suddenly displayed, into the broad breast of the English yeoman, with such fatal certainty and force, that the hilt made a hollow sound against the breastbone, and the double-edged point split the very heart of his victim.
Its presence had been awful; its departure was more awful still. Watch the stain of the rainbow fading out of the sky, and you will know how that mysterious symbol passed away. 'By Heaven! ' said Aylmer to himself, in almost irrepressible ecstasy. 'I can scarcely trace it now. Success! success! And now it is like the faintest rose color. The lightest flush of blood across her cheek would overcome it. ' He drew aside the window curtain and suffered the light of natural day to fall into the room and rest upon her cheek.
The Oxford Book of Short Stories (Oxford Books of Prose & Verse) by V. S. Pritchett
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