The Banquet- Short Story
It was at a banquet in London in honor of one of the two or three
conspicuously illustrious English military names of this generation.
For reasons which will presently appear, I will withhold his real name
and titles, and call him Lieutenant General Lord Arthur Scoresby,
V.C., K.C.B., etc., etc., etc. What a fascination there is in a
renowned name! There sat the man, in actual flesh, whom I had heard of
so many thousands of times since that day, thirty years before, when
his name shot suddenly to the zenith from a Crimean battlefield, to
remain forever celebrated. It was food and drink to me to look, and
look, and look at that demigod; scanning, searching, noting: the
quietness, the reserve, the noble gravity of his countenance; the
simple honesty that expressed itself all over him; the sweet
unconsciousness of his greatness—unconsciousness of the hundreds of
admiring eyes fastened upon him, unconsciousness of the deep, loving,
sincere worship welling out of the breasts of those people and flowing
toward him.
The clergyman at my left was an old acquaintance of mine—clergyman
now, but had spent the first half of his life in the camp and field,
and as an instructor in the military school at Woolwich. Just at the
moment I have been talking about, a veiled and singular light
glimmered in his eyes, and he leaned down and muttered confidentially
to me—indicating the hero of the banquet with a gesture:
"Privately—he's an absolute fool."
This verdict was a great surprise to me. If its subject had been
Napoleon, or Socrates, or Solomon, my astonishment could not have been
greater. T...
... middle of paper ...
...enough to come in when it rains. Now that is
absolutely true. He is the supremest ass in the universe; and until
half an hour ago nobody knew it but himself and me. He has been
pursued, day by day and year by year, by a most phenomenal and
astonishing luckiness. He has been a shining soldier in all our wars
for a generation; he has littered his whole military life with
blunders, and yet has never committed one that didn't make him a
knight or a baronet or a lord or something. Look at his breast; why,
he is just clothed in domestic and foreign decorations. Well, sir,
every one of them is the record of some shouting stupidity or other;
and taken together, they are proof that the very best thing in all
this world that can befall a man is to be born lucky. I say again, as
I said at the banquet, Scoresby's an absolute fool.
In the short story, “Head Cook at Weddings and Funerals,” By Vi Plotnikoff, Marusa who is Aunt Florence’s daughter, expresses herself as an independently driven person. Marusa is not afraid to voice her opinion; Furthermore, she is a responsible young lady despite the circumstances she has to overcome to get what she wants.
returned from the war, he was not the same. His spirit had been taken away. He was
his future life is finally result of what he is today, he grew up to become a dedicated veteran, a
Kathy Harrison starts her personal story happily married to her childhood sweet heart Bruce. Kathy was living a simple life in her rural Massachusetts community home as the loving mother of three smart, kind, well-adjusted boys Bruce Jr., Nathan, and Ben. With the natural transitions of family life and the changes that come with career and moving, she went back to work as a Head Start teacher. Her life up until the acceptance of that job had been sheltered an idyllic. Interacting in a world of potluck suppers, cocktail parties, and traditional families had nothing in common with the life she would choose after she became a Head Start teacher.
Written by Jamie Ford, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet follows the life of Henry Lee, a young Chinese-American boy living in Seattle in the 1940’s during World War II, and his reflections on his youth later, in the 1980’s. The novel illustrates the theme that loyalty is important in times of hardship. Henry deals with both loyalty and the absence of it as he copes with his broken relationship with his father, his forbidden, but strong friendship with a Japanese girl, Keiko, and his awkward connection with his son.
... home after the war and stayed with him. he returned to the shit field, a place that holds only bad memories and makes peace with field and in a way with the country itself.
And he certainly has changed from the beginning of the story (speaking chronologically) where he was no more than a scared civilian, who would do anything to escape such a fate as the draft. He would eventually become the war-hardened, slightly cocky veteran that he is now. But it is only through his experiences that he becomes who he is today. Through all the things he has witnessed. Whether it be watching Curt Lemon be almost literally "blown to heaven" to having killed a man and making assumptions about who he truly was.
Carolina. The. His father died before the war, and his mother and siblings all died during the war from disease or other causes, leaving him an orphan at the age of 14. When he was a kid he only received sporadic education, and education back then was simply not enough. But he did well and eventually went on to study law.
childhood in West Virginia first, then he preceded to tell about the rest of his life. Hickam used
At the start of World War II, his father was sent away, captured by Germans, and didn’t return until the war’s end.
that he wanted, unlike many other convicts in the camp, to live as he did
was marked by as much misfortune as was his military career. Not till his later
man in possession of a good fortune must be in a want of a wife". This
Albert Camus's "Banquet Speech" is revolved around the meaning of art. He defines art as a concept of connecting communities as a whole. Although, art is not a reason for the artist to distinct themselves from the real world. Camus stands behind this when he admits his art is to foresee the truth behind this world and to see deeper into the people suffering from the truth. For him, as the writer, he believes his art work reaches out to everyone because he does not see himself any different from the readers. They are all the same. No judgements or hatred takes place in the piece of work but only the beauty of the community.
that he no longer did anything for pleasure or sport. His goal was to help people. He