"He wanted to cry. He leaned his elbows on the table and shut and opened the flaps of his ears. Then he heard the noise of the refectory every time he opened the flaps of his ears. It made a roar like a train at night. And when he closed the flaps the roar was shut off like a train going into a tunnel. That night at Dalkey the train had roared like that and then, when it went into the tunnel, the roar stopped. He closed his eyes and the train went on, roaring and then stopping; roaring again, stopping. It was nice to hear it roar and stop and then roar out of the tunnel again and then stop."This may not seem like an epic tale or a heartfelt poem as the language is so casual (the language in the book develops/matures as the main character grows older - this is closer to the beginning) but it impacted me a lot as I often did this opening and closing of my ears in school, hearing the rushing roar of the noisy room expand and contract. Simply to get away from it all.
Tuesday, 22 March 2011
More than just words...
I'd like to share an extract from a book I'm reading called "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man" by James Joyce.