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Like a Child in the Womb, Like an Enigmatic Moon

Like a Child in the Womb, Like an Enigmatic Moon

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Like a child in the womb, like an enigmatic moon

Matthew Lee Knowles
[2012]

sentences extracted from David Lodge's "The Picturegoers"
Like a child in the womb, like an enigmatic moon

Matthew Lee Knowles
[2012]

sentences extracted from David Lodge's "The Picturegoers"

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Published by: Matthew Lee Knowles on Apr 24, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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05/19/2012

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Like a child in the wombLike
 
an
 
enigmatic
 
moon
 Matthew Lee Knowles[April 2012]
 
 
[
Sentences extracted from David Lodge’s novel
The Picturegoers
]
 
 
 
Like the dress uniform of some historic regiment buried in the khaki uniformity of amodern army, it was a defiant, hopeless gesture to a drab, uninterested world.Mr Mallory always liked to drop from the bus while it was still moving. And the people seemed to take the evening like a reviving drink;one could sense a week-end cheerfulness in the air.He paused to buy an evening paper from the nimble-fingered newsvendor,who drew it with a flourish, like a sword, from the sheaf under his arm.He’s no age to be on the streets with the likes of you.Somehow one couldn’t help calling a picture-palace a temple of Mammon even if one wasentering it to see an edifying film like
Song of Bernadette
- it tried so hard to look like one.But I wouldn’t like anyone to think I made a practiceQueer lot she was getting that evening, what with that fussy woman and the clergyman and now this bloke who preferredto sit right at the side, where everybody on the screen looked long and thin like in the Hall of Mirrors at Southend.There was a time when he liked this demure gesture a lot, but this eveninghe found it difficult to suppress the desire to shake off her hand.He seemed strangely reluctant to take her anywhere where they might encounter his college friends, but shehad a very clear idea of the girls, with their urchin-cuts and trousers and feline spectacles - all of which featuresseemed much more likely to appeal to Mark than her own puzzled and timid experiments with her appearance.Nevertheless, as he turned to look at her, he felt a wave of affection for the delightful picture she presented: the clumsily applied lipstickof the wrong colour; the superb clarity of complexion (why did so many nuns have faces like polished marble); the too-long skirt;the blouse, bought on a wild impulse, its plunging neckline abbreviated, on a modest afterthought, by a brooch representingOur Lady of Lourdes, with arms extended as if to tug the offending garment together; the short, tent-like coatthat made her look pregnant, and in fact disguised a firm well-fleshed and almost flawless torso.In the window of the shop the suits stood stoically,crowded shoulder to shoulder like men in a rush-hour tube.

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