3. John Waine – a poet, novelist and literary critic

John Waine 1925 is a famous novelist who started his literary career as the author of the novel “Up the down staiease” (1953), in which the mood of the “Young angry men” was fully refuted. In this novel Waine depicted satirically different sides of the English reality, created the character of the young rioter Charles Lamley, who aspired to independence, who cut with the bourgeois environment, but who didn’t want to recognize workers. The final of the novel testifies about the joining of the author with the world, which he has rejected. The mood of in content 2 at the some time, reconciliation of the character with his environment are shoun in Waine is novels “Живя в наятоящем” 1955, The sharpness of the criticism went down in the novels “The Rivals” 1958 2 “The traveling woman” 1959.

Waine’s out look is very contradictory. The strong features of his character 2 critical aiminy were reflected in his antimilitary novel “Kill the father” 1962, in which the writer flamed race discrimination.

His novel “The less sky” depicts the tragedy of estrangement of a man in capitalist society. The most significant phenomena in the realistic English literature was the publishing of the Waine’s novels “Winter in mountains” 1970, in which the mails attention is paid to such actual problems, as class fight, in walls, contradictions of the national character. Waine is a poet, novelist and literary critic.

4. Kingsley Amis (1922-)

Kingsley Amis was educated at Oxford and after graduation taught English at the University of Swansea. “Lucky Jim” was published in 1954 and brought its author immediate success. By January 1957 it had sustained eighteen editions and was acclaimed by the critics as one of the most hugely successful first novels in the English language. It was followed by “That Uncertain Feeling” (1955), “I Like It Here”(1956), “Take a Girl Like You” (1960), “One Fat English-man” (1963), “Antideath League” (1966.)

Although Amis himself objected to being classified as an Angry Young Man, he is generally considered one of the leading representatives of the young English writers of the nineteen-fifties, colloquially called the Angries.

These writers had much in common as far as the attitudes and characteristic features of their heroes were concerned. Their books expressed very clearly the disgust of the young generation with an outworn and morally bankrupt social order, and their protest against the inhumanity of the bourgeois world of our time. These young authors’ strength also lays in “creating convincing English background” of the fifties.

His latest book is a departure from the main line of his previos novels. As he put it himself, he tried to make “Antideath League” as timeless as possible. He is no longer a rebel, neither are the other Angry Young Men so young, and so angry as they used to be ten years ago.

“Lucky Jim,” characteristic of the early Amis, is essentially an English University novel. Concern with educational problems in general, and the crisis of outlook and vocational prospects of the Arts Departments in “redbrick” universities, in particular, is typical of this group of writers.

Kingsley Amis in the novel “Lucky Jim” depicts provincial university life in a mood of amused disgust. He surveys the problems of a junior lecturer in humanities through the eye of a vivacious young man who has beliefs and no enthusiasms, - nothing but contempt for his subject, his colleagues and his elders. The baraness of Dixon’s outlook reduces his revolt against the shams and pedantry of academic life to despising his own work, making faces when nobody sees him, to practical jokes and drinking. Teaching others what it has bored him to learn is not a particularly inspiring prospect, and it has a thoroughly demoralizing effect.

The writer’s manner of narration and inner speech affords him a possibility of introdusing us to Dixon’s worries about his prospects and his intense fear of being “sacked.” When asked about why he had chosen the Middle Ages as his subject, Dixon readily confesses to have taken the line of least resistance.

a) Lucky Person Amis

One of the largest English post-war writers Kingsli Emis (1922-1995) proved in all conceivable genres of fiction and non-fiction, invented not less than ten novels for the long and extraordinarily fruitful literary innings in any way, however, as it was not once, remained in history of English literature, and in history of our foreign literature in translation, by the author of one - most first and funniest - the book lucky “Person Jim”, which along with the play of John Osborna “Look Back in Anger” and by novels “Hurry downward” John Wain and “Path upstairs” , John Braine, became bright manifestation of literary flow of “angry youths of people”. In two stated autobiographic essays below from the aesthetic collection “Memoirs” (where flashbacks about friends entered also, obituaries, reviews and other), Emis - with superfluous, perchance, for a satirist by circumstances and no memoir pushed aside - ironically describes “businesses a long ago pasts”: family both school and key of author narration striking is reminded by an afore-mentioned early masterpiece, where a comic effect was built on the “chronic” lack of coincidence of odd, and often and frankly conduct of hero and its serious elucidative mission (a hero is an university teacher). Ability to find funny, ridiculous in serious, touching, considerable is a distinguishing feature of the satiric talent of Emis - both prosaist and memorialist.

  Speak, the father of my father was by birth from East England which in childhood  was seen to me some distant, unknown mountain or desert. Called its Joseph Dgeyms Emis, in our family of it in a joke styled by Paterom or Dad. To me it went down in memory by a red faced fat man with living, moist peep-holes and thick, fluffy moustaches which were associated at me with style the “kaiser Billy” times of First world war. A nose at it was in violet veins, and from it, that to me for some reason seemed especially strange, both here or the long stuck out there, inch in two, hairsprings. Dad again and again broke out low, going from somewhere from within and that is why by the laughter look like pipe voice, however much I will not recall something, that it some time smiled. Only now, setting to write this book, I considered suddenly, however much I have loved it and was afraid. If not to count Christmas dinners and birthdays, we were seen enough rarely, however enough I was and this. Somehow on Christmas it contrived to compliment with me and my cousin John identical ties.

b) Perchance, in a joke.

He liked to walk in restaurants, where, I suspect, drank quite a bit, and, it is necessary to acknowledge, I admired to those, how evilly it refuels a serviette for the collar of shirt, that in those times was considered bad tone. It was the unsurpassed teller of anecdotes to which, having a drink and getting a bite, began without every preamble usually, that an anecdote was perceived as history from the life. One such anecdote shocked me so that I memorized it for life. A scotsman (on youth of years to me was yet having no idea, that scotches are accepted to consider misers) led a wife in a restaurant. Ordered both steak. When meat was given, a wife has begun to eat with unbelievable speed, a husband did not even touch to the dish. “Do you dislike meat, sir?” - “No-no. I wait, when the teeth of wife” will be freed. I did not hear then about dental plates, and that is why represented vividly, as a husband tore out at a wife straight from gums the teeth and inserts them itself in a mouth. With me a grandfather spoke, only when greeted or said goodbye.

They were wealhty parents; their house and land were located in Trudged, in Surree, in the privileged district, then, to the year in thirtieth one, yet semirural, although already, probably, included in London as a result of riband development. Our house in Norberi, 16 was in the half-hour of ride on a bus from an old-fashioned mansion, half-way to London. The “Barchester mansion” was named, however on association with the Trollopa novel[2] it was named by no grandfather, and previous proprietor. In a house, as well as in every, to not even too well-off family of those years, servants were held, that did not interfere with Matron (By a mother, by analogy with Dad, nobody named it) to be a zealous hostess, whose thrift  the legends walked about.

What only about it was not spoken! For example, that at mornings it abandoned only two matches to the maids. One - is credible, it reasoned, -  to kindle gas, it can be missing - matches quite often break a secret, however much three would be the impermissible pyrotechnic banquet. For the economy of toilet paper Matron cut wrapping and packages remaining from the purchases in a grocery bench, on pieces and hung in a dressing-room on a hook, and, if to believe the uncle Presu, once in the morning it cut itself a bum by trimmings of sticking in such package of sandpaper, whatever I failed to beat in the one novel - to keep familial secrets an artist is not under an obligation. As I can not recall that us even one time, except for one-two christmas dinners, in “Barchestere” to anything helped, assume that Matron tried to host how it is possible rarer.

Dad was a glass-cutter, that is traded wholesale in wares from glass, including glass crockery, mainly that, from which drink, instead of do not eat, and, according to a father, long years, while did not begin to constrict it mass production, the matters of it went not bad. Traded Dad and unbreakable crockery - understands, not interpreted literally words, and is extraordinary durable; somebody explained to me, that durability of such crockery was achieved by the internal pull and whatever it will be broken up, if, say, to brush it from table on a carpet. From a slog it is broken up instantly, with the deafening slamming, growing into truhu rather, than in fragments. Like that as Dad began without every preface to tell an anecdote, it could in the evening unnoticed enter in a living room with a dish from unbreakable glass in a hand and, pretending to be, as though is going to give up it, to vyashemu amazement of going, at a floor, started it in a fire-place, where it burst suddenly, exactly it threw no dish in a fire, and hand-grenade. Dad remained is here quite imperturbable. Taking somehow from table one of the terrible dark-amber goblets, allegedly related to the epoch of I Yakov, easily moved to laughter this, restless, ridiculous manikin asked the important American client, whether does not want that koe at what to look. American, naturally, professed interest, then Dad walked up to the fire-place and reproduced the focus with a hand-grenade. It is desirable to think that this it  brought in the modest contribution to the crash of the “Dg firm.-Дж. Emis and company” and, accordingly, - in the “Vulvort’s prosperity”.

Played a considerable role the Dad and then, when family tried to shut out or on a thin end spoil wedding of Gladys Emis - its daughter and my aunt - with the Harvard professor Foster Ralph, scientific, as I knew afterwards, very large. More than sixty years passed from this wedding, therefore for exactness of information I can not guarantee, however to me went down in memory that the last attempt to prevent their marriage was undertaken literally on the eve of wedding and by an initiator the Matron was rather, than Dad. Well I remember nevertheless, as in that fatal evening my parents, heeding to exhortations of the uncle Presa, left in “Barchester” with sombre faces, to persuade Dad (maybe, Matron) give up. As to Gladys went then already twenty the second year and it did not need in the official consent of parents, and Ralph was right to get married, on whom considers necessary, nothing, except for annoyance and grumblings, to the old men, clear business, did not remain, however at that time for the boy of my age in their conduct was not nothing reprehensible. Yet I was on the side of parents, and not at all grandfather with a grandmother. On some reason having no connection to none of my relatives on a separateness, to me seemed much more natural, that the uncle Pres with the aunt Poppi also support Gladys and Ralph.

Be that as it may be, virtue and judiciousness triumphed, wedding has taken place, and Foster well left to America. Alas, is very quick, only thirty six years of age, Ralph suddenly died from the break of heart straight on a baseball match (”Nerves!”), however by that time had time to bring into the world of two children, Bobby and Rosemary. (This history is retold in the ninth chapter of my novel “Old hrich”.) Bobby I, on my opinion, never saw in general, and Rosemary, when was it the years ten-twelve, has crossed an ocean with the mother; clever and charming, it however was yet too young and to my of that time sexual interests could not correspond.

In general, America as the American uncles, aunts and once removed sisters and brothers appeared in my life from babyhood, and, interested I in history of family, my impression, that the Emis’s majority emigrated to Virginia yet at the beginning of the nineteenth age, would get ponderable documentary confirmation. Went down in memory to me typical inhabitant of the South the uncle Tom (sic!), is credible cousin of grandfather, and cousin Uretta, whose wonderful name, as spoke, it was winnowed by some sleep. My grandmother it named the “aunt Ju” (in place of Julia), and it sounded very unusually.

On a paternal line I had two uncles - one bachelor other married, two aunts - one of them the same Gladys, to which it was fated soon to abandon us, and two cousins, on whom the list of agnates, actually, and was closed (I knew one, about existence of other guessed only). In spite of that Emis lived on insignificant distance from each other, we were seen infrequently, that in times, when a car  for majority was rareness yet, - fact, perchance, not so and notable. The cadet of father the uncle Lesley was, perhaps, by unique my relative which is of interest for the man of letters. Since Dad conducted the last considerable experiment, dying from a heart attack (although then it was more than seventy already, talked that path on the next world to it the doctors shortened on the lackadaisical attitude), undertook Lesley the anxiety about Matron, and in concert and about that yet remained from the “G firm.-J. Emis and company”.

I was not too disordered, when G.-J. Emis went away from the life, thus in concert and from my, however much parents continued to make to call to Matron settling together with Lesley in Worlinghem, south of Trudged. I liked by Lesley, unique  relative of senior generation, which professed to me the interest, and it is possible, and liking. This was the man of small growth, with the correct lines of person and  thick, direct, dark, is always careful by the combed hairs. Herein I followed suit from it, whatever it, however, was even unaware about: to the hair-do and I and my coevals spared the promoted attention at that time. Growing up, I understood, what in essence it lived by the joyless life. Every day after work of Lesley was sent, getting off from a train, in pub opposite a house, where, before to appear before Matron with which it conducted all evenings, was handsomely pumped full by a beer. It happened that after a supper, if day not too exhausting was produced, it conveyed a mother in the same or in some other pub. As Matron did not wish or could not reach to the beerhouse, brought Lesley the goblets with port straight in a car; I do not know, true, it drank then together with a mother in a machine or came back in search of company in pub. A matron was enormous, frightening kind by a creature with a pilose person; it lived so long till about ninety years, causing at me such insuperable disgust and fear, what to Dad I did not test never.

But I was distracted. Although a mother fine made to jam and was never failed to make drunk the tea of batsmen, by above all its fascination, as well as at me in young years, there was reading; with a book it did not part just as with a bag or  knitting. It did not love the classics, but also did not read “muri” also - among its favourite authors (some Philip Larkin recommended to it) were, how many I remember, Nora S. Dgeyms and the Bridg Ann. Although my calling with maternal passion to reading, possibly, in any way and it is unconnected, it, as, perhaps, no other, helped me to find itself. Helped those, that did not give me the birth of brother or sister, that limited the circle of my acquaintances, that was daughter the literature natural, that by a gloomy autumn day, when I must read there is resolutely nothing, hinted (it is convinced, without every back thought) that I have written anything “such”. In spite of “shaky” nerves and weak heart, a mother was a woman living, sociable. It liked to laugh, to smoke out a cigarette, to have a drink of jin a with a tonic (no more two wineglasses) and, alas, did not refuse to itself in the “Key-Stone or “Big-Tree” goblet”, supposing, that there is iron in guilt. At the same time this sociable, tender creation was capable on a great deal. In fact this it, when my first wife became pregnant to marriage, said to the father, that did not play the fool and leave off to threaten to me by an anathema; this it convinced my future father-in-law and not to boycott mother-in-law our wedding ceremony. A mother, in a word, was the first in the frightening long row of people which I managed to appreciate and to which truly gave due only now that they are not already present in living.

It in 1957 died - from a blow. When we with Hilli entered in a little cottage on a Shrublands avenue in Berkampstead, the type of the father placed in loneliness seemed to us by something ridiculous, wild. “How is that?” - for much time in succession it  inquired and did not get an answer. Afterwards, going out on a pension, it moved to us, in Swansee. And as differently? And certainly we brought it along with itself, when departed to America, where two years stayed, 1958th and 1959th. In Swansee to the father it lived not bad, however to do to it was there is quite nothing, and, although earlier it often was at us together with a mother, acquaintances of its age at it did not appear. I saw that it painfully tries at mornings to occupy itself: walks to go for a walk or embusses and rides in a center, buys “Daily telegraph” and, calling in a cafe, unravels a cross-word to the extent of the capabilities, after goes in pub, where in complete loneliness drinks glass of light ale, back to dinner goes home and all remain of day toils from idleness. Some time it existed so, however after, referring to the necessity to shop around, left to London.

It is pleasant and touching was to hear such from it. And meantime living to it remained not long. At it was opened - so, at least, it thought or pretended that thought, - ulcer of intestine, which on a check appeared by an incurable cancer. An end came very quickly: On March, 25, 1963 a father wrote me with the clear, beautiful hand a merry letter, in which thanked for that I laid down it in a hospital in Cambridge, where I then taught yet. And it died on April, 18, leaving that little, that was at it, one of the friends, not only renouncing to divide its modest property with us, but in addition demanding, that we returned it a paternal clock and pocket-book, which Hilly passed Philip and Martin. That is why from a father I had only this last letter, and from a mother - in general nothing.

 

c) School

  Many children (it is equal as well as adults) remind little mad people that is why, that do not know that  will do in a next instant. On a kind they not at all differ from us with you, perchance even more lovely than we are,  by nothing do not produce itself - but all question in what they think about. My first impression from school is the crowds of children which rush about on a small lawn and yell in all gullet. Under a “lawn” I mean the sporting ground of school of sainted Hilda (or, for giving to it bourgeois respectability, college of Sainted Hilda), surrounded by an impassable green fence.

”They (mother and dad) did not tell me, that will so be”, - I ached about itself, looking, as by in all directions and without every visible purpose rush, wildly goggling eyes or directing a look in emptiness, my schoolmates. One of them seemed to me not so uncooperative, as other, and I said “Let us be friends!”, on what the my chosen (and can, sullen fellow placed alongside) one silently seized by teeth to me in a shoulder. In a next minute a heavy elderly lady called in a bluebell, and the ruffled schoolboys up, is exact prisoners in the American film from the prison life, anyhow lined up in a rank, mumbling curses and exchanged by spiteful looks.

Possibly, my first school impressions were and are not so terrible, however much they, sure, put me in a blind-alley. I was surrounded by not only boys but also girlies, thus girlies were mainly much more senior. In course of time I, certainly, a little calmed down and overcame arising up there was disgust. And nevertheless in the life constantly you suffer from an unpreparedness to that, what terrible things expect you and as human nature is terrible. At school of Sainted Hilda I was taught a good lesson not long and did not lead friends. From all schoolmates I memorized one girl only, from those, that older, and only because it became fame the ability masterly to do for air. One our teacher, the Krempton miss, repeated: “le chat - lady-cat” is so frequent, as though did it on a dispute, and I could not understand in any way, why it is some my class-mates on its lessons hardly restrain the laughter. I fell in love in the Barr miss, which went down in memory to me by the “Iton” hair-cutting under a boy, high growth  and rare elegance. The Barr miss taught English, and, probably, exactly from here my adherence takes beginning to the glorious pages of our literature.

Norbery college, secondary school from which now there was no track was straight in our street. It was large building with the annexes is satisfied, thus very capacious, where class rooms were located. At school for all its history two men of mark studied only - I and Derek Bentli, which, in spite of doubtfulness of proofs, hung up for participation in loud murder in fiftieth years. However, even if Bentli and was a rapist, in a Norbery college to this art of it in any way could not teach - this school was the most peaceful place from all to me known. On the school sporting ground of fight, certainly, happened, but for that sporting grounds actually and exist; by a similar appearance, is placed only, as we know now, to build a youth center, and young people here begin to rebel, and there is no center - there is no rebellion. Besides little boys rave mainly quite yet. To seven or eight years they usually become guided (not to say by domesticated) - so, at least, was in those years. In addition at such school a teacher in the life of student means not in an example more than class-mates, with whose lack  of restraint it clashes during a few minutes to the lesson or between lessons, is special if you have dinner, as it was done by I, at home. For these a few minutes it was possible, certainly, to draw truthful or fantastic information about sex or fight, however much intercourse passed almost fully outside school.

Teachers in a Norberry college were people outstanding mainly. Were their member and two in any way unconnected between itself Wollea. “Little” Mr. Woller with pipping voice - which became such that is why, that, on its words,  by a boy it too much sang in choir, - taught mathematics and instyled me the interest to this science, in particular case to algebra. Some time, while I seriously did not carry with literature, I even thought to become a mathematician. “Large” Mr. Woller was not too instrumental in that my interest to mathematics was replaced by the infatuation for literature. It must teach us to English, however much the morphological analysis of word and analysis on parts of sentence were to it are not obviously interesting. Instead it preferred to read aloud, that we welcomed only. Books were mainly about First world war (”A bullet pleased to me in the back, sir!”) or about spy passions in East Europe (”For the sake of God, shoot me, and we will do away with that!”). However, this reading was enough for me at home.

But Large Mr. Woller was discharged soon, and it was replaced by Mr. Ashley, a man is more young, penetrating, amateur of poetry, including poetry new - for that time, understands. Mr. Ashley set us making - about that, for example, what beauty, - and also compelled to poetize on the set theme. Once it set to us to write a poem with a white verse about the miracle of St. Sophia the Konstantinopol, I invented ninety nine lines, and Mr. Ashley acknowledged my poem of the best. During many years I behaved to it indulgently and only understood quite recently, as I to it am under an obligation for that it helped me to find the place in the life. To my first published work, to the story in three hundred  words, entitled the “Sacred rhinoceros from Uganda” and printed in a school magazine, it belonged with unconcealed - and fully justified - irony. There is the certain captain Hartley in this story, which, from all appearances, worse understood local folk-lore, what an experimental hunter “respecting itself” owed by, kills a rhinoceros and here becomes the victim of local idolaters. It is killed, already forgot by what method, but at such volume of literary work certainly some simple. All these events were described by smart, impressionistic prose from which Mr. Ashley did not leave a stone on a stone. “It seized to it in a side... it was directed ahead... without the least vital sparks...” Thereon the first, experimental period of my creation walked up by the end.

In 1934 I entered School of London City, where a father and uncle walked at one time. In those years this school occupied large, enough sullen building on Victoria river bank. On long corridors and enormous unenclosed sporting ground my schoolmates with impenetrable persons scampered about unceasingly, in dark coats and striped pantaloons. I at that time was a creature little and very timid. First days me was nauseous from fear, however much I understood quickly, that afraid there is nothing to be. Nobody offended me, after the exception unless King from the third physic-mathematic class: every morning at meeting in a buffet it greeted me by the words “Hello, Curly!” and stirred up me the hairs which I then carried on direct part. Its conduct tone and red hairs instantly removed at me every hunt to resistance. Soon, however, I with such appeal reconciled oneself to and began to give a way to to those quite free entertainments numerous and, and which are usually given by school,  and to use those public communications, that arise up in such establishments, as School of London City. I felt dimly, that my schoolmates represented the most different layers of society: speech of one caused the complex of inferiority at me; listening, as other speak, I, vice versa, was overfilled by my own meaningfulness. School experience, however, enough quickly taught  me to quite another: if you want that you were adopted, it is quite enough to be friendly and friendly; if you want to please to schoolmates, it is necessary to be foremost able to make them laugh - at any cost. As well as in the life, at school even the most dull and vulgar artificiality is valued at times not at all less wit.

Ability to imitate to the teachers was especially highly valued. I learned to “show” a director: “All must be clear and clear. Black, so to speak, on white. If dog - dog. If lady-cat - lady-cat”, - due to what won respect at class-mates and simultaneously created a counterbalance to that quivering adoration, what  tested to the idol, unsurpassed F.-R. Deylu, to the scientist-classic of old school. Listening, as it with sense and knowledge of business declaims the ancient Greek verses, observing the tonic accent, ritmiku and not on the instant not forgetting about sense of read, we were penetrated by consciousness of some ideal beauty, some universal miracle. When afterwards on a Би-би-si decided on the Third program to read Homer, the choice, naturally, fell on it. Yes it and was a man to excellent. Such anymore on light will not be born.

At our school, as well as in any other, almost all teachers were cranks deserving mimicking. And it only is partly explained to those, that such the ordinary reaction of studying on teachers. It is here necessary also to take into account nature of schoolboy looking after the theatrical performed in a class. For junior pupil the conduct of any adult is a riddle, secret after seven seals. While senior pupil which needed to study for a year or two already prepares to give documents on the residence in the world of adults. Ten year little boy looks at a world with enthusiastic, slightly hostile amazement of tourist, it is replete for a throat by whimsical native consuetudes reigning in this world, by its terrible sacral dances, foolishness and threats of its shamans and witch-doctors. And if in future it becomes a prosaic, it must recover naive, not focused sight of infantile years not only, but also sharp-sighted, inquisitive look of teenager. However, to one juvenile sharp-sighted grant that is undersized.

Be that as it may be, I will never forget Mr. of March, gnawing handle of glasses (at it it was possible to adopt Oden and Maknis, but at that time, in 1936-1937, I neither about that nor about other did not have notion), or Mr. is Foamy, accusing us that we ate its baking. (How many laughter was, when during evacuation of school of it from an exterior and manner the conducts were taken for the German spy.) To me never to forget, with what inimitable imperturbability the Mr. Karruters reacted on that, how we with Ramseem during a lesson tossed through all class of giant sizes the suitcase overfilled by the fragments of glass, calling class-mates to a long ago coming rebellion to a head. All it was saved in My memory not as histories, and like small films with the complete set of sound effects. Now, after so much years, I understand that Mr. Kopping, which simultaneously played on a flute, was the most colourful figure, on a bass viol, spoke in Greece with the attic accent of fifth age and once staggered us so unexpected, skol and sparkling answer for the question of cunning person and agitator Rigden, what castration: “I do not know, whether anybody from you had to be on a horse fair”. This answer from its Periklov’s logics this pores sounds in My memory. Remembering Mr. Kopping, I do not get tired to be surprised to that Mr. Kopping of standard of 1938 until now seems to me more senior, than I the standard, say, years of 1990th, - this joke which with us is played by time certainly will not become antiquated never.

However anymore than all taught me, including to English literature, reverend S.-Dg. Ellingem. At that time on preparation to the receipt a long ago now the forgotten “certificate of maturity” was given two years; Mr. Ellingem was convinced, that for this purpose it is fully enough years, and second throughout the year was engaged in that in time spare from the other lessons taught us the elements of classic music, painting and English poetry, mainly poetries of the last years, where, however, to the favourites of Mr. of March of place for some reason it was not. By that time I already opened on your own Hausmen, however much Mr. Ellingem staggered me to the depth of soul, declaring, that Hausmen - its favourite poet. To hear such from a veritable christian was at least strange. From that minute I understood forever, that verses - this quite no expression of looks and whatever a poet “asserts nothing”. I may need little time, to divide tastes of Mr. Ellingema, and I until now ever-higher put Hausmen - Larkin is not below.

Looking back, I see nevertheless, that the Ellingema taste was quite not always is blameless. Once it read us awfully sentimental, although, indisputably, and heartfelt, poem of 20th years (now, it is necessary to suppose, is happy the forgotten poet Richard Middltona) under the name to the “Dead baby” in a hope, that we will appreciate it.

  Not to us to decide a fate - God decides for us;

You are dead, for a grave I fit your

To see you: among colors - flower

In fact you not at all roses scarlet do not become numb.

  As though you got tired to stir by feet

And to see paints of life krugovert;

You are quiet and, is imagined to me, play under colors.

You play death. 

Already then these lines caused some doubting at me - however, certainly do not set to say.

To understand that Mr. Ellingem is, note should be taken on the reason of rebellion against divine will, which is in the first line of this poem, as, perhaps, and in the Hausmena creation. And not only on it. Being an enthusiastic admirer very then popular “Seven pillars of wisdom” of T. E. Lourensa, it gave me to honour this book which is preliminary, keeping within promoted limits of caution, turned carefully. After the short study of “Pillars” I considered with all inherent to me then - and now - humility, that I am not enough well-read or clever, in order to to appreciate this masterpiece; now I with all responsibility declare: “Seven pillars of wisdom” - not what other, as a pretentious heap of derma. From other side, Mr. Ellingem, perchance, is first, who splurged flagrant errors and nuisance in Latin “adaptations” of Ezri Paunda. It gave me somehow to read a fragment from the article on this theme, which I valued highly, however so did not manage to find all article.

Sometimes it seemed to me, that to Mr. Ellingemu I am not too liked. It considered me insincere, to it not on a soul, that I small went in for sports, and on this occasion it considered all my excuses unconvincing. (A school stadium was in a Grove-park, where to go from home it was awfully far in those pre automobile times) Ellingem supposed - it is possible, and it is just, - that I did too small, when we, persons five-six, have huddled in a little cottage in Uiltshire during evacuation there of school in 1939. It knew at the same time, that I am quite intelligent, considered that some time from me there will be the use, and gave me various help about which at times was unaware. I for it did not thank it never. What, is not gratitude to us incident, is it right? Sincere,  at all events.

Not only teachers but also soucheniki first were engaged in my education - purposefully, second - is unobtrusive, between business. Through Moses, for example, I knew fat Man Uollera and the Morgana Charles; from Beytmen - about pneumatic pistols and about that, how it is necessary to see to the girls; from Laytfut - about Borodin and Rimskiy-Korsakov; from Williams-Eshman - about bourgeois values, including about the real pictures (instead of no reproductions) now above-ground artists, about that, how it is interestingly to read, opening the Oxford anthology of the French poetry at random, or to leave to travel for a border. After time, however, it turns out that living than all such, as Ueybrou were imprinted in my memory. Ueybrou, this rebel and iconoclast, that swept over on monastic cells, throwing out one hand for a blow and squeezing other for the defensive, was ready, seemed, in any minute to expose you to the most rough and mocking mockery; in its person distorted by a grimace, uncountable rebelliousness showed through in sharp, awkward motions. To me it, true, belonged fairly well and, I needed to appear, was wont black-breaking to yell: “Salute, non-commission officer Delius!”, than simultaneously hinted at my rank in Corps of preparation of officers and on that, how I imitated to the author of “Three months to the end” - fashionable ditty of those years. Every time, when I remember Waybrow, to me becomes at thought sadly, that this unbridled temperament was certainly mislaid somewhere in commerce or in trade in place of that, to breathe life in the section of culture of the Sunday papers. It seems to me now, that I envied that, what independent kind it stuck to with.

Fourteen years me, as well as all schoolboys, called in troops which today I would define as KPOS. (The contemptible pacifist minority and other nonentities got permission to go in boy scouts.) A form on us was put on in a week twice; we were drilled; taught to apply with a shooting-iron; in summer took out on a day on the studies and on the pair of weeks in camps; conveyed us in a city shooting-gallery and even erected an own shooting-gallery, where we shot from “303-h”vintovok. I shot not bad and even the “Excellent shooter” got an icon. Once we passed by a line-up on the holiday of lord-mayor. At one time it seemed to me, that, if a writer will not turn out from me, I will go out into an army. (Much later, at all events to 1980, when my novel “Russian hide and seek” went out, the military life continued by something me to beckon.)

I passed to the sixth class, it meant that I have a right to use the main entrance - with an embankment, to walk to have dinner in the “Lion’s cafe” at the Blackfriar’s bridge and now and then collect scolding from becoming vice director of Mr. Kopping for that I rarely am on a school stadium. I explained that to the stadium, reaching is very difficult, and Mr. Kopping, and not too inveterate sportsman, forgave me. Except for  it, flustered nobody, I play in football or only look after what is going on: at such school, as our, participation in the playing types of sport was limited to drafting of lists of participants.

I did not disdain and verses: foisted  the poem of the own making “Prelude” - enough primitive imitation to the “badland to the editor of school magazine”, seasoned by the Wilde verses. After this prelude poetic experiments a bit shorter followed soon, differing by monstrous pretentiousness and affectation, including “poem in prose”, causing legal indignation at Mr. Ellingem the same number of magazine the secretary of school separation of League of Nations printed the recital of the own making of war in Spain. Entered into this organization and I. Collections we tried to conduct in such time which would arrange the students of School of London City.

To be acknowledged, I was sincerely surprised, when in summer 1939 somebody said me, that war with Germany soon can begin. I did not have time prettily to think over this information, as we were unexpectedly evacuated in Malboro. The food soldering given away in a train were simply excellent - much better than those, that to us at one time produced on the studies in the Officer corps. In the window of train suddenly arose up and stretched out of city, proceeding to Malboro, which, to my amazement, appeared in Wiltshire. The hasty settling apart began on arrival: majority was placed in city apartments, select minority, including me, - in barns, where army bunks were put. For subsequent a few days I ate jars the twenty the thickened milk with sugar – condenced milk was included in our soldering, however ignored it of my satellites to which my tastes showed oneself enough exotic.

With praiseworthy speed the School of London City decided a double task: to grow into boarding-school of same and, simultaneously, master classes, sport-grounds, school chapel, insulator and all other, which belonged to boarding-school already existing. Thus nobody of teachers complained on the monstrous overload accompanied by a melancholy and alarm, which they had to test. What to studying, their gladness was not present limit: they had mass of new impressions, they were surrounded by the anxiety of housing hostesses, in all by it indulging, before them a new, unexplored and unauthorized world was opened. Studying Malboro college of us did not care and did not feed especially friendly senses to us; if not to count intercourse between our and their champions on squash, they ignored us, looked on us from top to bottom.

These thoughts - and not only these - at that time to me, however, did not occur. Then I was busy to other, trying to combine sport, which, as appear, can all the same give pleasure, with other leisure, including with a music - from Mozart to Armstrong. Then I began to sing in church school choir, and soon singing on four voices began to give me unusual pleasure with which, since I ended school, it is small that, perhaps, could compare. The types of rural England also delivered me quite a bit gladness, in particular that a juvenile melancholy on was brought, and many years then every attempt to imagine a picturesque rural landscape unchanging caused the types of Malboro in memory. From a barn - by that time I already ate all present there in a presence the thickened milk - soon turned out us and under leadership of Mr. Ellingem settled in a small cottage on Bat-roud. As a cottage was heated by only a fire-place in a living room, in such cold I anymore did not live never; even in an army and more warm, but serving was necessary severe in winter of 1940-1941. I do not know, as from cellar to rafter, but in our with Rihenberg small room once even urine froze in a chamber pot.

But is remembered and other. Interesting conversations with Rihenberg and Rouz were conducted in this dank cottage, and also with great Ellingem, conversations which the outlines of future university appeared during. On Oxford and Cambridge we all then were influenced; my friends entered an university in October, 1940, and I - in April of the following. Delay my it is possible partly to explain to those, that in the last moment I passed from the class of ancient tongues in literary one.

Thereon it would be possible to dot, however to do it I will not become. What boring history of my receipt for uninitiated not showed oneself, I consider a duty to explain to the reader, that at the of that time requirements I would without the special labour get scholarship to act on the classic separation in Oxford or Cambridge. If memory does not change to me, in those years on English literature there were two places in Cambridge and two in Oxford, in Krayst-Church and in Sent-John’s. And, after endless troubles, severe labour and concessions on which went for the sake of me at School of London City, my reckless desires of steel by reality and I got recommendation in an university on English literature. (It is desirable to believe that Mr. Ellingem also brought in the small contribution.) As a result I entered a Saint-John’s-college. Here I will not begin to jut out into the detailed explanations, what is under an obligation to school, where on a great deal closed eyes and gave me the possibility to act there, where I wanted, - will say only, that I am under an obligation to it very much to many, and, perchance, therefore I right through life argue with those, who sets to criticize the English system of education for its of that time, and nowadays, “inflexibility” and “dogmatism”.

”Life at large school of city, - I wrote at one time, - personifies by itself the freedom which I consider unique, freedom based on unlikeness. Wherein there is no orthodoxy, there can not be conformism and intolerance. And it, out of every doubting, is just in regard to School of London Siti. Never in the life I did not clash with a public institute, where would be less to what not was to factionalism, where class distinctions are, dissimilarity in education, profits and in religion would mean so few. In spite of that no less than fifteen percents a student were Jewries, for seven years of my teaching I never (except for the case described higher) ran not into one, even by the most imperceptible display of anti-semitism. The level of teaching was so high, that surpassing it is uneasy, however much more important there was the lesson of that got us, properly to behave to each other. And this lesson was taught, and not only on words. Enormous for it thank you”.

I wrote these lines in 1958, and they touch period 1934-1941 years. Interestingly, it is actually interestingly, as far as the written is then applicable to School of London Cite today. To school which from (набережна) Victoria Quay moved on a street of Queen Victoria.