Henry James, while boring me to death, used commas aplenty

**Howie Roary** · 2010-09-27 02:29

I reread every sentence a minimum of thrice, the first page was reread 8 times in some portions

perhaps I should turn down the XX as I read and listen to music at the same time

**Howie Roary** · 2010-09-27 02:31

I got this far:

Spoiler: show

The April day was soft and bright, and poor Dencombe, happy in the conceit of reasserted strength, stood in the garden of the hotel, comparing, with a deliberation in which however there was still something of languor, the attractions of easy strolls. He liked the feeling of the south so far as you could have it in the north, he liked the sandy cliffs and the clustered pines, he liked even the colourless sea. "Bournemouth as a health-resort" had sounded like a mere advertisement, but he was thankful now for the commonest conveniences. The sociable country postman, passing through the garden, had just given him a small parcel which he took out with him, leaving the hotel to the right and creeping to a bench he had already haunted, a safe recess in the cliff. It looked to the south, to the tinted walls of the Island, and was protected behind by the sloping shoulder of the down. He was tired enough when he reached it, and for a moment was disappointed; he was better of course, but better, after all, than what? He should never again, as at one or two great moments of the past, be better than himself. The infinite of life was gone, and what remained of the dose a small glass scored like a thermometer by the apothecary. He sat and stared at the sea, which appeared all surface and twinkle, far shallower than the spirit of man. It was the abyss of human illusion that was the real, the tideless deep. He held his packet, which had come by book-post, unopened on his knee, liking, in the lapse of so many joys--his illness had made him feel his age--to know it was there, but taking for granted there could be no complete renewal of the pleasure, dear to young experience, of seeing one's self "just out." Dencombe, who had a reputation, had come out too often and knew too well in advance how he should look.

His postponement associated itself vaguely, after a little, with a group of three persons, two ladies and a young man, whom, beneath him, straggling and seemingly silent, he could see move slowly together along the sands. The gentleman had his head bent over a book and was occasionally brought to a stop by the charm of this volume, which, as Dencombe could perceive even at a distance, had a cover alluringly red. Then his companions, going a little further, waited for him to come up, poking their parasols into the beach, looking around them at the sea and sky and clearly sensible of the beauty of the day. To these things the young man with the book was still more clearly indifferent; lingering, credulous, absorbed, he was an object of envy to an observer from whose connexion with literature all such artlessness had faded. One of the ladies was large and mature; the other had the spareness of comparative youth and of a social situation possibly inferior. The large lady carried back Dencombe's imagination to the age of crinoline; she wore a hat of the shape of (79) a mushroom, decorated with a blue veil, and had the air, in her aggressive amplitude, of clinging to a vanished fashion or even a lost cause. Presently her companion produced from under the folds of a mantle a limp portable chair which she stiffened out and of which the large lady took possession. This act, and something in the movement of either party, at once characterised the performers--they performed for Dencombe's recreation--as opulent matron and humble dependent. Where moreover was the virtue of an approved novelist if one couldn't establish a relation between such figures? the clever theory for instance that the young man was the son of the opulent matron and that the humble dependent, the daughter of a clergyman or an officer, nourished a secret passion for him. Was that not visible from the way she stole behind her protectress to look back at him?--back to where he had let himself come to a full stop when his mother sat down to rest. His book was a novel, it had the catchpenny binding; so that while the romance of life stood neglected at his side he lost himself in that of the circulating library. He moved mechanically to where the sand was softer and ended by plumping down in it to finish his chapter at his ease. The humble dependent, discouraged by his remoteness, wandered with a martyred droop of the head in another direction, and the exorbitant lady, watching the waves, offered a confused resemblance to a flying-machine that had broken down.

and now it's far too late to read something so zzzzz...

***Blarg*** · 2010-09-27 02:33

the xx is awesome

**Howie Roary** · 2010-09-27 02:35

since I am not reading anymore henry James, this thread is now about the XX

ps - seeing them on Wednesday, be jealous

***Blarg*** · 2010-09-27 02:37

I have never seen a live band on purpose though some have unfortunately forced their noises into my ears at bars.

what is the best XX song

***Blarg*** · 2010-09-27 02:39

the same day I found The XX I also found Bitte Orca, that was a pretty good day

**Howie Roary** · 2010-09-27 02:39

long version if you loved that^

Spoiler: show

**Howie Roary** · 2010-09-27 02:42

best xx song, hmm

I like this one:

but this is their most successful song so maybe you'll like it better:

***Blarg*** · 2010-09-27 02:44

do you think they will play free bird?

and tell them to make a new album

**Howie Roary** · 2010-09-27 02:45

usually they do a full band set whether they headline or open (which they did for hot chip when I saw them before) and then they'll do a more DJ based set afterwards at another location

some of their remixes are really great, like this Florence and the Machine remix: