复旦大学：《英美短篇小说 British and American Short Stories》教学课件（PPT）Graham Greene, The End of the Party

The end of the party Graham Greene

Graham Greene The End of the Party

About the author Henry Graham Greene 1904-1991 British Catholic novels/Thrillers Detective/Spy stories

Henry Graham Greene 1904-1991 British Catholic novels/Thrillers Detective/Spy stories About the author

An Overview 是 raCes Henne hall long s 肾时S0hers是 brother afraid g: though tables ill sud Dataryeanothing Morton是h I Francis's backi 8m0e1 i aalo done fear rs=ligh Mabel splay light a Warren now cats音m a classical expression of the English tradition of horror fiction as it elicits a well-founded and increasingly intense sense of impending doom without inserting any scenes of physical violence

“a classical expression of the English tradition of horror fiction, as it elicits a well-founded and increasingly intense sense of impending doom without inserting any scenes of physical violence.” An Overview

Ar naLYSIS I TOLD YOU 酸 2 I WAS SICK BASTARDS

Analysis “Oh nothing. I don’t think I’m well. I’ve got a cold. I oughtn’t to go to the party.” And last year…he turned his face away from Peter, his cheeks scarlet. “It will be a bad cold if I go to the party. Perhaps I shall die.” But rebellion against destiny was not in Francis’s power. “I dreamed that I was dead,” Francis said. It was true he felt ill, a sick empty sensation in his stomach and a rapidly beating heart, but he knew the cause was only fear… “No, I’ll get up,” he said, and then with sudden desperation, “But I won’t go to Mrs Henne-falcon’s party. I swear on the Bible I won’t.” Now surely all would be well, he thought. God would not allow him to break so solemn an oath. He would show him a way…Anything might happen. He might cut himself or break his leg or really catch a bad cold. God would manage somehow. But Francis was silent, feeling again the jump-jump of his heart, realizing how soon the hour of the party would arrive. God had done nothing for him, and the minutes flew. But Francis crouched with fingers on his ears, eyes uselessly closed, mind numbed against impressions, and only a sense of strain could cross the gap of dark. …the pulse of his brother’s fear went on and on, when Francis was now where he had always been told there was no more terror and no more darkness