The Drummer of the Eleventh North Devonshire Fusiliers - download pdf or read online

By Guy Davenport

ISBN-10: 0865474478

ISBN-13: 9780865474475

Utilizing juxtapositon and college, man Davenport creates fabulous assemblages that adhere into 4 tales that remove darkness from how one's elusive sexual nature could be hidden and mockingly printed through outer appearances, and one novella that completes his trilogy all started through Apples and Pears and The Hules Verne Steam Balloon.

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Additional info for The Drummer of the Eleventh North Devonshire Fusiliers

Sample text

W E R D E N- -. probably has high-octane hormones squishing around inside him, wouldn't you say, hr. Sigurjonsson? Holger, I mean. Feels good, doesn't it, Grasshopper? Was it getting taken for a senior academician with beard and dandruff, one soon to be published in a magazine big as a phonebook, that made thesap rise from your pink toes, upward, and upward? Pascal danced a tricky step, grinning and snapping his fingers. -I like you to kid me, Jos. It gives you such pleasure. -Easy on the salt, Pascal, Holger said.

And you're a good man. Holger sat in his leather reading chair across from him, having shuttered the venetian blinds, replacing his shoes with bedroom slippers. -1'11 blurt it all out, Jos said. 1don't know, maybe you can tell me why I want you to know all this, but I do. A kind of sharing, as you'll see. It's nothing scary, and not a problem. About two weeks back I fucked Meg. Not made love to o r slept with, those stupid words, but fucked. That is, Rutger and I fucked Meg. He's fucked her just about every day since he's been here, and they'd been doing it well before, wholly into each other.

The air blue with snow and ice splinters on long whistling winds that hit you like a plank. And in the summer, long marshes of yellow sedge. These wild strange hills and narrow sounds were his first sight of a really northern land. The islands' central firth was like nothing he had ever seen. It was a place he had known in his imagination, mournfully empty and barren, remote and melancholy. In a terrible wall of rent and furrowed rocks, its height lost in a restless mist, he saw that the sublime can be hard and alien.

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The Drummer of the Eleventh North Devonshire Fusiliers by Guy Davenport


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