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Writers With A Damn' Good Turn Of Phrase

Kryptonite said:
Raymond Chandler has some of the most incredible descriptions and one-liners ever. But, I sometimes think he throws so many of these in that it detracts from the story. There have been times when I've read a chapter of Chandler and remembered some fantastic lines but nothing about the actual plot.
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Here's a fact and a half for you:

Raymond Chandler and P.G. Wodehouse attended the same school (Dulwich College), though they were seven years apart.

The 'half' is that Gerry Adams (former IRA member and Sinn Féin leader) was great admirer of P.G. Wodehouse's writing, an admiration he shares with Ludwig Wittgenstein and Kaiser Wilhelm II.
 
I've always had a soft spot for the opening of H.P. Lovecraft's "The Picture in the House". It has a wonderful way of focusing you on the locale and letting you know what you're in for:

"Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places. For them are the catacombs of Ptolemais, and the carven mausolea of the nightmare countries. They climb to the moonlit towers of ruined Rhine castles, and falter down black cobwebbed steps beneath the scattered stones of forgotten cities in Asia. The haunted wood and the desolate mountain are their shrines, and they linger around the sinister monoliths on uninhabited islands. But the true epicure in the terrible, to whom a new thrill of unutterable ghastliness is the chief end and justification of existence, esteems most of all the ancient, lonely farmhouses of backwoods New England; for there the dark elements of strength, solitude, grotesqueness and ignorance combine to form the perfection of the hideous."

Of course, people don't generally think of backwoods New England as hideous - and that just adds to my joy in reading that paragraph.
 
EnolaGaia said:
Agreed, but ... Some of those one-liners really drive home the scene / description / etc. One that's stuck with me for decades comes from the opening pages of Farewell, My Lovely:
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I always remember:

Neither of the two people in the room paid any attention to the way I came in, although only one of them was dead.​

Now that is a twinkle-in-the-eye dry joke combined with two literary techniques: delayed disclosure and defeated expectancy.

Clever writing for all its simplicity.
 
Name the writer. Pretty distinctive, I'd say. Answer below.

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From: "The Lady in the Lake" by Raymond Chandler
 
Just reading Wodehouse--A Crime Wave At Blandings.

This is a simply superb line nestling in a sparky dialogue between Lord Emsworth and his domineering sister Connie:

She drew the pallid peer aside, and spoke with sharp rebuke.​

A fourteener, if I'm not mistaken!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fourteener_(poetry)

And that series of vowels--a treat for the mouth!
 
May I suggest, a sample of eloquence from the quill pen of Sir Walter Scott (novels):

"Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell".
- The Heart of Mid-Lothian

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave...when first we practice to deceive".
- Marmion

The following are all taken from, 'Ivanhoe':

"For he that does good, having the unlimited power to do evil, deserves praise not only for the good which he performs, but for the evil which he forbears".

"We are like the herb which flourisheth most when trampled upon".

"I have heard men talk about the blessings of freedom," he said to himself, "but I wish any wise man would teach me what use to make of it now that I have it".

"I envy thee not thy faith, which is ever in thy mouth but never in thy heart nor in thy practice".

"Silence, maiden; thy tongue outruns thy discretion".
 
Min Bannister said:
Honestly. Genius is not strong enough a word for him. An incredible writer and an incredible person.
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Perhaps inspired by your response and enthusiasm, I have spent some further time on Scott's literally legacy.

This has resulted in uncovering an absolute treasure trove...

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/14860/14860-h/vol_i.html

Where to begin....

...and end, as it maybe, slightly veers off topic..?

Yet, if the subject is...

What if... leave with Scott's musings within his diary, utilising a, 'Damn Good Turn of Phrase'...!

November 23.—On comparing notes with Moore, I was confirmed in one or two points which I had always laid down in considering poor Byron. One was, that like Rousseau he was apt to be very suspicious, and a plain downright steadiness of manner was the true mode to maintain his good opinion. Will Rose told me that once, while sitting with Byron, he fixed insensibly his eyes on his feet, one of which, it must be remembered, was deformed. Looking up suddenly, he saw Byron regarding him with a look of concentrated and deep displeasure, which wore off when he observed no consciousness or embarrassment in the countenance of Rose. Murray afterwards explained this, by telling Rose that Lord Byron was very jealous of having this personal imperfection noticed or attended to. In another point, Moore confirmed my previous opinion, namely, that Byron loved mischief-making. Moore had written to him cautioning him against the project of establishing the paper called the Liberal, in communion with such men as P.B. Shelley and Hunt, on whom he said the world had set its mark. Byron showed this to the parties. Shelley wrote a modest and rather affecting expostulation to Moore. These two peculiarities of extreme suspicion and love of mischief are both shades of the malady which certainly tinctured some part of the character of this mighty genius; and, without some tendency towards which, genius—I mean that kind which depends on the imaginative power—perhaps cannot exist to great extent. The wheels of a machine, to play rapidly, must not fit with the utmost exactness, else the attrition diminishes the impetus.

Another of Byron's peculiarities was the love of mystifying; which indeed may be referred to that of mischief. There was no knowing how much or how little to believe of his narratives. Instance:—Mr. Bankes expostulating with him upon a dedication which he had written in extravagant terms of praise to Cam Hobhouse, Byron told him that Cam had teased him into the dedication till he had said, "Well; it shall be so,—providing you will write the dedication yourself"; and affirmed that Cam Hobhouse did write the high-coloured dedication accordingly. I mentioned this to Murray, having the report from Will Rose, to whom Bankes had mentioned it. Murray, in reply, assured me that the dedication was written by Lord Byron himself, and showed it me in his own hand. I wrote to Rose to mention the thing to Bankes, as it might have made mischief had the story got into the circle. Byron was disposed to think all men of imagination were addicted to mix fiction (or poetry) with their prose. He used to say he dared believe the celebrated courtezan of Venice, about whom Rousseau makes so piquante a story, was, if one could see her, a draggle-tailed wench enough. I believe that he embellished his own amours considerably, and that he was, in many respects, le fanfaron de vices qu'il n'avoit pas. He loved to be thought awful, mysterious, and gloomy, and sometimes hinted at strange causes. I believe the whole to have been the creation and sport of a wild and powerful fancy. In the same manner he crammed people, as it is termed, about duels, etc., which never existed, or were much exaggerated.

Constable has been here as lame as a duck upon his legs, but his heart and courage as firm as a cock. He has convinced me we will do well to support the London House. He has sent them about £5000, and proposes we should borrow on our joint security £5000 for their accommodation. J.B. and R. Cadell present. I must be guided by them, and hope for the best. Certainly to part company would be to incur an awful risk.

What I liked about Byron, besides his boundless genius, was his generosity of spirit as well as purse, and his utter contempt of all the affectations of literature, from the school-magisterial style to the lackadaisical. Byron's example has formed a sort of upper house of poetry. There is Lord Leveson Gower, a very clever young man. Lord Porchester too, nephew to Mrs. Scott of Harden, a young man who lies on the carpet and looks poetical and dandyish—fine lad too, but—

"There will be many peers
Ere such another Byron."
 
Comfortably Numb said:
Perhaps inspired by your response and enthusiasm, I have spent some further time on Scott's literally legacy.

This has resulted in uncovering an absolute treasure trove...
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Well that is great! :clap: I didn't know that was available. I have Lockhart's "Life" but the bits written by him and not Scott are a lot harder to get through.. On my "to read" list. :) I read a wee bit already. I feel his frustration at getting visitations from blowhards! No wonder he had a hidey-hole built into his office at Abbotsford.

I have never read any Byron but Scott certainly seems to talk about him a lot.
 
I was just thinking about Wodehouse.

I recently finished Ned Beauman's slightly bonkers, and highly enjoyable novel, Boxer, Beetle.

There's a whole section of the book that takes place in the stately home of a British Fascist, anti-semite and inventor of a failed universal language, at a meeting of like minded individuals, and to which one of the main characters (who happens to be his son, Philip Erskine - a eugenicist / entomologist...yup, really) has inveigled a homosexual Jewish boxer disguised as his valet (yup, really). The entire section is, to my mind, a minor tour de force of comic writing and kept bringing to mind a sort of unhinged Wodehouse - had the latter been born a few decades later and spent some time in rehab during his formative years .

Beauman can write some great comic lines:

Inside were Millicent Bruiseland, on the sofa, and two unctuous costly pale limp shiny things, one of which was a silk dressing gown that contained the other...

'You're Erskine's boy,' said the unctuous costly pink limp shiny thing that was not a silk dressing gown.
 
Spookdaddy said:
There's a whole section of the book that takes place in the stately home of a British Fascist, anti-semite and inventor of a failed universal language, at a meeting of like minded individuals...
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Have you read Troubles, by J. G. Farrell?

Dark, weirdly absurd, sad humour--and yet you laugh.

I couldn't tell whether I was actually enjoying it at first. I certainly wanted to keep on reading to find out what was going on in this preposterously frustrating farce, so I never abandoned it, but as a succession of pennies dropped, I realised that that was the whole point--historically speaking--and that it really was a clever piece of work--and it's stayed with me.
 
Yithian said:
Have you read Troubles, by J. G. Farrell?

Dark, weird, sad humour.

I couldn't tell whether I was actually enjoying it at first. I certainly wanted to keep on reading to find out what was going on in this preposterously frustrating farce, but as a succession of pennies dropped, I realised that that was the point--historically speaking--and it really was a clever piece of work--and it's stayed with me.
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Yes. I really love J.G Farrell.

The Siege of Krishnapur is one of my favourite novels, and the Collector - a character in that novel - one of my favourite fictional protagonists.

Died way too young - and having written way too few books.
 
Spookdaddy said:
Yes. I really love J.G Farrell.

The Siege of Krishnapur is one of my favourite novels, and the Collector - a character in that novel - one of my favourite fictional protagonists.

Died way too young - and having written way too few books.
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I read Troubles ten years ago and bought The Siege of Krishapur and The Singapore Grip soon afterwards, but the latter two have sat there, unread in pristine condition, since then, sandwiched between several more Wodehouse novels and few slices of Graham Greene.

Must Read More Fiction.
 
Lizard King said:
I am a fan of George Orwell, but really like Cormac McCarthy and Donald Ray Pollock.
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Big fan of Donald Ray Pollock myself - and quite excited/entirely prepared to be staggeringly disappointed, to see that Netflix are releasing a series based on The Devil All the Time.

Let's see.

If you enjoyed Pollock, you may also like Frank Bill's collection of short stories, Crimes in Southern Indiana.

Edit: And that's the second time I've ventured into the Midwestern Gothic this morning - and it's not even 09.30.
 
Spookdaddy said:
Big fan of Donald Ray Pollock myself - and quite excited/entirely prepared to be staggeringly disappointed, to see that Netflix are releasing a series based on The Devil All the Time.

Let's see.

If you enjoyed Pollock, you may also like Frank Bill's collection of short stories, Crimes in Southern Indiana.

Edit: And that's the second time I've ventured into the Midwestern Gothic this morning - and it's not even 09.30.
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yes I'm not sure about the Netflix film.I won't hold my breath.I read that Frank Bill book and the other one he wrote Donnybrook?I enjoyed them.Daniel Woodrell also is good
 
Lizard King said:
yes I'm not sure about the Netflix film.I won't hold my breath.I read that Frank Bill book and the other one he wrote Donnybrook?I enjoyed them.Daniel Woodrell also is good
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If you haven't already done so, Pollock's The Heavenly Table is also well worth a read. That one's got movie written all over it.
 
Spookdaddy said:
If you haven't already done so, Pollock's The Heavenly Table is also well worth a read. That one's got movie written all over it.
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Yes definitely movie material. Amazing for a man who didn't start writing till he was 45.For his second book to be made into a film with big names is some feat.I must admit that I turned off the film Devil All The Time after seeing they have missed so much out.Too much is lost in film as the book was so tremendously written.
 
Ray Bradbury - Death is a Lonely Business. A self-confessed homage to Chandler, Hammett, Cain etc.

"Oh no you don't!" I yelled. "Not again. You know what you are? Jealous!"
Crumley's head almost came off his shoulders. He whirled.
"I'm what?"
I almost saw his fingers reach for a gun that wasn't there.
"And, and, and -" I floundered. "You - you're never going to make it!"
My insolence staggered him. His head swiveled to stare at me over the top of his car.
"Make what?" he said.
"Whatever it is you want to do, you - won't - do - it."
I jolted to a full stop, astounded. I couldn't remember ever having yelled like this at anyone. In school, I had been the prize custard. Every time some teacher slammed her jaws, my crust fell. But now -
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"I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain."

James Baldwin 1924-87 'The Fire Next Time.' (August page on The Radical Literary Calendar 2021 on the kitchen wall)
 
Ambiguity.
 
Found the following in St Brides Church on Fleet Street, London - hung on the wall leading into the crypt, which is now home to a modest museum. (The crypt had been sealed up and forgotten about for many years - until thoughtfully excavated by the Luftwaffe's archaeological department some time in WW2.)

Maybe not great literature, but it's a really appealing little slice of life, dished up with wry understatement, an eye for the ridiculous - and a little bit of dark humour - things we would all recognise now, and which seem to me to give it the overall effect of not feeling almost two hundred years old:


20220521_142741.jpg
 
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