复旦大学：《英美短篇小说 British and American Short Stories》教学课件（PPT）Kathrine Mansfield, Bank Holiday

Bank holiday Katherine Mansfield

Bank Holiday Katherine Mansfield

Outline The Author The Title The plot The Protagonists Analysis Reflection

Outline - The Author - The Title - The Plot - The Protagonists - Analysis & Reflection

Katherine Mansfield (1888-1923) Prominent modernist writer Influenced by Russian master Chekhov Focusing on middle class in Britain Bliss eo The Garden party

- Katherine Mansfield (1888-1923) - Prominent modernist writer - Influenced by Russian master Chekhov - Focusing on middle class in Britain - Bliss & The Garden Party

HOLIDA

- Public holiday in Europe - Banks closing - Time off work or extra pay - The Bank Holidays Act 1871

Plot A band starts to play A crowd collects Eating, chatting, larking, listening The music breaks The crowd scatters

A band starts to play A crowd collects Eating, chatting, larking, listening The music breaks The crowd scatters Plot

Plot The crowd moves up the hill The stalls begin The top is reached More people come

The crowd moves up the hill The stalls begin The top is reached More people come Plot

Protagonists One young girl has even a basket of strawberries, but she does not eat them. Aren't they dear! She stares at the tiny pointed fruits as if she were afraid of them. The Australian soldier laughs. Here, go on, there's not more than a mouthful. But he doesn't want her to eat them, either. He likes to watch her little frightened face, and her puzzled eyes lifted to his: "Aren't they a price! " He pushes out his chest and grins The only ones who are quiet are the ragged children. They stand, as close up to the musicians as they can get, their hands behind their backs, their eyes big. Occasionally a leg hops, an arm wags. A tiny staggerer, overcome, turns round twice, sits down solemn, and then gets up again

...One young girl has even a basket of strawberries, but she does not eat them. "Aren't they dear!" She stares at the tiny pointed fruits as if she were afraid of them. The Australian soldier laughs. "Here, go on, there's not more than a mouthful." But he doesn't want her to eat them, either. He likes to watch her little frightened face, and her puzzled eyes lifted to his: "Aren't they a price!" He pushes out his chest and grins. … …… The only ones who are quiet are the ragged children. They stand, as close up to the musicians as they can get, their hands behind their backs, their eyes big. Occasionally a leg hops, an arm wags. A tiny staggerer, overcome, turns round twice, sits down solemn, and then gets up again. …… Protagonists

Protagonists "Let these little birds tell you your futurel" She stands beside the cage, a shrivelled ageless Italian, clasping and unclasping her dark claws. Her face, a treasure of delicate carving, is tied in a green-and-gold scarf. And inside their prison the love-birds flutter towards the papers in the seed-tray You have great strength of character. You will marry a red-haired man and have three children. Beware of a blonde woman. Look outl Look out! A motor-car driven by a fat chauffeur comes rushing down the hill. Inside there a blonde woman, pouting, leaning forward--rushing through your life--bewarel beware "Ladies and gentlemen, I am an auctioneer by profession, and if what I tell you is not the truth I am liable to have my licence taken away from me and a heavy imprisonment. " He holds the licence across his chest; the sweat pours down his face into his paper collar; his eyes look glazed. When he takes off his hat there is a deep pucker of angry fesh on his forehead obody buys a watch

…… "Let these little birds tell you your future!" She stands beside the cage, a shrivelled ageless Italian, clasping and unclasping her dark claws. Her face, a treasure of delicate carving, is tied in a green-and-gold scarf. And inside their prison the love-birds flutter towards the papers in the seed-tray. "You have great strength of character. You will marry a red-haired man and have three children. Beware of a blonde woman." Look out! Look out! A motor-car driven by a fat chauffeur comes rushing down the hill. Inside there a blonde woman, pouting, leaning forward--rushing through your life-- beware! beware! "Ladies and gentlemen, I am an auctioneer by profession, and if what I tell you is not the truth I am liable to have my licence taken away from me and a heavy imprisonment." He holds the licence across his chest; the sweat pours down his face into his paper collar; his eyes look glazed. When he takes off his hat there is a deep pucker of angry flesh on his forehead. Nobody buys a watch. …… Protagonists

Protagonists Look out againl A huge barouche comes swinging down the hill with two old,old. babies inside. She holds up a lace parasol; he sucks the knob of his cane, and the fat old bodies roll together as the cradle rocks, and the steaming horse leaves a trail of manure as it ambles down the hill Under a tree, Professor Leonard, in cap and gown, stands beside his banner. He is here"for one day," from the London, Paris and Brussels Exhibition, to tell your fortune from your face. And he stands, smiling encouragement, like a clumsy dentist. When the big men, romping and swearing a moment before, hand across their sixpence, and stand before him, they are suddenly serous, dumb, timid, almost blushing as the Professor's quick hand notches the printed card. They are like little children caught playing in a forbidden garden by the owner, stepping from behind a

…… Look out again! A huge barouche comes swinging down the hill with two old, old babies inside. She holds up a lace parasol; he sucks the knob of his cane, and the fat old bodies roll together as the cradle rocks, and the steaming horse leaves a trail of manure as it ambles down the hill. Under a tree, Professor Leonard, in cap and gown, stands beside his banner. He is here "for one day," from the London, Paris and Brussels Exhibition, to tell your fortune from your face. And he stands, smiling encouragement, like a clumsy dentist. When the big men, romping and swearing a moment before, hand across their sixpence, and stand before him, they are suddenly serious, dumb, timid, almost blushing as the Professor's quick hand notches the printed card. They are like little children caught playing in a forbidden garden by the owner, stepping from behind a tree. …… Protagonists

D Posted201203-1309:01:32 The idea is did not quite come out, Incomplete. Simon gather There seems to be a point to this story, even if it is just a literary sketch. But I doubt it was a piece Katherine intended to publish It's probaby something she wrote as practice that und after she had to the light and heat, shouting, laughing, squealing, as though they were being pushed by something, far below, and by the sun, far ahead of them - drawn up into the full, bright, dazzling The"what" is what I'm trying to figure out. D Posted2007-10-1814:59:52 I totally agree with the previous readers comment. What is the point of this stony? What is the story D Posted2007~09-1919:07107 Before the wolves start to feast, here' s an update to my previous comment: I confused Katherine Mansfield with a contemporary writer also on this site. I know Katherine Mansfield is long gone, Too bad we will never know what her intentions were when she wrote this story Posted2007-091918:4838 Wow, I was surprised that Katherine Mansfield is the author of this story. I usually love her work, but not this piece endless description with no plot, no storyline whatsoever. It seems more like the type of practice assignment you'd get in a creative writing class This isn't just an unfinished or incomplete piece. It's barely even started Out of curiosity, Katherine, what were you trying convey here? I think this would work better as a poem than ashort story

What? Plot? Protagonists? Point??