On Thursday last, the 23rd., we moved into our new house. By Monday morning we were sufficiently straight for me to resume my novel. Tiring but enjoyable to arrange a new home, finding places, establishing systems etc. Not without some loss of temper and disagreement, but nothing significant and I enjoyed the 'making up'. I have a feeling of liberation. Will I write differently out of the city?Ullman came down yesterday, fresh from the U.S.A. I asked him for his impression: "Is the U.S. a good place to get away from?" He said: "On the whole, yes". Then went on to say that for a visit he thought it would interest me enormously. I think so too. He said that I could form no idea of the amount of drinking that went on there. I disagreed with him on that. No doubt he is exaggerating. I should think that excessive drinking is to be found anywhere except perhaps among the Mohammedans. Probably even there, but more discreetly.
Something I have noticed in myself. A distinct feeling of jealousy on reading yesterday and today accounts of another very successful production of a play by Somerset Maugham - his third now running. Also, in reading an enthusiastic account of a new novelist in the Daily News today, I looked eagerly for any sign to show that he was not after all a really first class artist. It relieved me to find that his principal character was somewhat conventional etc., etc. Curious! I must admit to myself however that I am usually secretly pleased when an acquaintance has some misfortune, and I hate to be told of someone in my social or family circle who has done well. To acknowledge another's achievement with enthusiasm is beyond me.
No comments:
Post a Comment