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This blog makes liberal use of AB's journals, letters, travel notes, and other sources.

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Saturday, 27 April 2013

Not seeing Florence

Wednesday, April 27th., Pension White,  Piazza Cavalleggieri, Florence.

Munich Orchestra, conducted by F Loewe at the Teatro della Pergola on Saturday evening. "Till Eulenspiegel". I began to understand it. The intense vivacity of the thing proclaimed itself. The performance was magnificent. On Sunday I was ill, but I had determined to go to "Aida" at the Politeamo Fiorentino, and I went with Mr. Mock in a shower of rain. We saw three acts, & I enjoyed it very much, though ill. Vast interior. All the cheaper parts crammed; heads stretching away into distances further than at Covent Garden. Then I spent Monday & yesterday in bed. I could not read on Monday, but yesterday I read I don't know how many newspapers, all "Ce Cochon de Morin" and a lot of a new French novel by Jean Canora, sent to me for review. This morning I wrote my Chronicle article in bed, before 8.30. So that seeing Florence has stood still for a time.

"Clayhanger". The more I think of that accursed book the more complicated and un-doable it seems to be. And yet I have written to Pinker from here as follows: "Going strong. Two thirds done"! He seems to want to place it as a serial but I doubt that will be possible. I have told him that it will be 160,000 words. I hesitate to trust the 100,000 words in manuscript to the post and so have sent him the 60,000 that are typewritten. They will probably be enough to discourage any editor. There is nothing in it to shock prudes, as there was in the O.W.T. Not even a confinement. It ends happily!

I have also written to Pinker about the publication of some of my stories. Mrs. Bisland of McClures told me vaguely that they meant to publish "The 19th Hat". She also said they were thinking of publishing the two stories I wrote last for Tillotson. This I absolutely forbade her to arrange, on pain of eternal enmity. I do not want these two stories published in America. Pinker will doubtless be able to convey to them that if they want to keep on intimate terms with their latest darling discovery they will pay £10. A story like "The Death of Simon Fugue" is worth £10. I would like to suppress one or two stories and give them "The Matador" out of The English Review instead. Both "The Death of Simon Fugue" & "The Matador" will give editors something to think about.

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