Country , by some English painter, I think his name was Attenborough. The queen’s country was in twilight, no paths, no roads, you could just make out houses beside a stretch of water, low buildings out of reach.
Oh, your smile, Stella, when you came in and immediately saw that I was smoking your cigarette. With a movement of your hand, you told me to stay sitting where I was. This is different territory, you implied. It’s not the classroom, you don’t have to stand up here when I come in.
“He’s feeling better,” she said. “Today my father’s feeling better.”
She took a few steps, stopped in front of her desk, and placed one hand on the pile of exercise books. I still dared not ask her opinion of my essay. She herself, I thought, must choose the moment. The longer her pause lasted, the surer I was I couldn’t expect praise. She never withheld praise, she began with it every time she gave exercise books back, discussed our work, and told us her reasons for our grades. I was waiting for her to sit down beside me, but she didn’t, she went to the window and looked out. It was as if you were searching for something, Stella, somethingto say, an idea. After a while I saw the expression on her face changing, and with a touch of slight sorrow in her tone, not forbearance this time, she said, “What I’m doing now, Christian, is something I’ve never done before, you could call it subversive. Yes, when I think of what links us, the school would see it as subversion. What I have to say to you really should be said in class.” As she spoke I remembered that room in the Seaview Hotel, the pillow we had shared, and I felt a vague fear and a vague pain, but only briefly, because after she had lit herself another cigarette she went back to pacing the room.
What you said, Stella, didn’t seem to be addressed to me personally at first. It was as if you wanted to express something as a matter of principle to anyone who might be concerned. “Animal Farm is a fable, an allegory, the story says one thing and also tells us another. Behind what we see going on in the foreground there’s a wider truth; you could describe it as the story of the miseries of revolution.” She stopped in front of the bookshelves and went on speaking as she looked at them. “The animals aren’t so much thinking of the classic demands of revolutionaries—more bread, more freedom. Their aim is to end the domination of human beings, a limitedand concrete aim, and they achieve it. But then, with the founding of a new civilization, misery begins. It begins with the formation of social classes and certain individuals’ aspirations to wield power.”
Now Stella turned back to me. “And as we’re on the subject, Christian, you gave an adequate account of the early chapters, the commandments, the slogans that you compared to the Tablets of the Law, all correct, perfectly accurate, and you quoted that terrible basic principle: ‘All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.’ But you didn’t mention the outcome of the revolution, or maybe you overlooked it, the outcome typical of so many revolutions. You didn’t spot the power struggles in the ruling class, you missed the dreadful terror that set in after the conquest, and finally, Christian, you didn’t notice that the whole thing is a portrayal of human behavior. There’s a book title—no reason why you should know it, but it says a great deal: Revolution Eats Its Children . In short, you named the causes of the revolution, but you hardly mentioned any of the reasons why it failed.”
I didn’t try to defend myself, I didn’t do anything like that because I could see you knew more than Idid, and everything you held against me was true. But there was one thing I thought I ought to know: what grade you had given me, or were going to give me. When I asked, “If I didn’t write a good essay I suppose I can’t expect a very good grade,” you shrugged your
Oh, your smile, Stella, when you came in and immediately saw that I was smoking your cigarette. With a movement of your hand, you told me to stay sitting where I was. This is different territory, you implied. It’s not the classroom, you don’t have to stand up here when I come in.
“He’s feeling better,” she said. “Today my father’s feeling better.”
She took a few steps, stopped in front of her desk, and placed one hand on the pile of exercise books. I still dared not ask her opinion of my essay. She herself, I thought, must choose the moment. The longer her pause lasted, the surer I was I couldn’t expect praise. She never withheld praise, she began with it every time she gave exercise books back, discussed our work, and told us her reasons for our grades. I was waiting for her to sit down beside me, but she didn’t, she went to the window and looked out. It was as if you were searching for something, Stella, somethingto say, an idea. After a while I saw the expression on her face changing, and with a touch of slight sorrow in her tone, not forbearance this time, she said, “What I’m doing now, Christian, is something I’ve never done before, you could call it subversive. Yes, when I think of what links us, the school would see it as subversion. What I have to say to you really should be said in class.” As she spoke I remembered that room in the Seaview Hotel, the pillow we had shared, and I felt a vague fear and a vague pain, but only briefly, because after she had lit herself another cigarette she went back to pacing the room.
What you said, Stella, didn’t seem to be addressed to me personally at first. It was as if you wanted to express something as a matter of principle to anyone who might be concerned. “Animal Farm is a fable, an allegory, the story says one thing and also tells us another. Behind what we see going on in the foreground there’s a wider truth; you could describe it as the story of the miseries of revolution.” She stopped in front of the bookshelves and went on speaking as she looked at them. “The animals aren’t so much thinking of the classic demands of revolutionaries—more bread, more freedom. Their aim is to end the domination of human beings, a limitedand concrete aim, and they achieve it. But then, with the founding of a new civilization, misery begins. It begins with the formation of social classes and certain individuals’ aspirations to wield power.”
Now Stella turned back to me. “And as we’re on the subject, Christian, you gave an adequate account of the early chapters, the commandments, the slogans that you compared to the Tablets of the Law, all correct, perfectly accurate, and you quoted that terrible basic principle: ‘All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.’ But you didn’t mention the outcome of the revolution, or maybe you overlooked it, the outcome typical of so many revolutions. You didn’t spot the power struggles in the ruling class, you missed the dreadful terror that set in after the conquest, and finally, Christian, you didn’t notice that the whole thing is a portrayal of human behavior. There’s a book title—no reason why you should know it, but it says a great deal: Revolution Eats Its Children . In short, you named the causes of the revolution, but you hardly mentioned any of the reasons why it failed.”
I didn’t try to defend myself, I didn’t do anything like that because I could see you knew more than Idid, and everything you held against me was true. But there was one thing I thought I ought to know: what grade you had given me, or were going to give me. When I asked, “If I didn’t write a good essay I suppose I can’t expect a very good grade,” you shrugged your
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