He crouched down between the sheets, glad of their tepid glow. He heard the fellows talk among themselves about him as they dressed for mass. It was a mean thing to do, to shoulder him into the square ditch, they were saying. And he saw Dante in a maroon velvet dress and with a green velvet mantle hanging from her shoulders walking proudly and silently past the people who knelt by the water's edge.

Well, you can't say but you were asked. I think I had better eat it myself because I'm not well in my health lately.I wouldn't like to be Simon Moonan and Tusker Cecil Thunder said. But I don't believe they will be flogged. Perhaps they will be sent up for twice nine . Do you see that old chap up there, John? he said. He was a good Irishman when there was no money in the job. He was condemned to death as a whiteboy. But he had a saying about our clerical friends, that he would never let one of them put his two feet under his mahogany. Fern Hill and Ann Jones stood as models to Gorsehill and Auntie Ann of the first story, “The Peaches,” and also to the poems “Fern Hill” and “Ann Jones.” The fourth story, “The Fight,” is a version of Thomas’s first meeting with Daniel Jones, the Welsh composer, when they were boys in Swansea. Trevor Hughes, his first genuine admirer, became the central character of the eighth story, “Who Do You Wish Was with Us?” and some of Thomas’s experiences on the South Wales Daily Post are recorded in four of the stories, especially the last two.

Mr Casey was still struggling through his fit of coughing and laughter. Stephen, seeing and hearing the hotel keeper through his father's face and voice, laughed. It was down in Arklow one day. We were down there at a meeting and after the meeting was over we had to make our way to the railway station through the crowd. Such booing and baaing, man, you never heard. They called us all the names in the world. Well there was one old lady, and a drunken old harridan she was surely, that paid all her attention to me. She kept dancing along beside me in the mud bawling and screaming into my face: Priesthunter! The Paris Funds! Mr Fox! Kitty O'Shea!

by Dylan Thomas

Why did Mr Barrett in Clongowes call his pandybat a turkey? But Clongowes was far away: and the warm heavy smell of turkey and ham and celery rose from the plates and dishes and the great fire was banked high and red in the grate and the green ivy and red holly made you feel so happy and when dinner was ended the big plum pudding would be carried in, studded with peeled almonds and sprigs of holly, with bluish fire running around it and a little green flag flying from the top. The following eight stories, all but three of which are written in the first person, explore aspects of the protagonist’s life from childhood to late adolescence. In “Patricia, Edith and Arnold,” a story written in the third person, the child glimpses an adult world of chaotic sexual relations and unhappiness. Young Dylan observes how two women who have found out that they have received similar tokens of love and love letters from the same man try to settle their dispute. Forced to decide between the two women, the narcissistic suitor turns both of them against him, as female solidarity finally overcomes sexual jealousy. Similar in theme is “Just Like Little Dogs,” in which the protagonist, now older, again observes the tragicomic arbitrariness of sexual relations and the pain that is yet involved in them.

The Vances lived in number seven. They had a different father and mother. They were Eileen's father and mother. When they were grown up he was going to marry Eileen. He hid under the table . His mother said: urn:lcp:portraitofartist0000thom_z3s4:epub:cc94480f-0aa9-400c-a3b8-c4279c8d6941 Foldoutcount 0 Identifier portraitofartist0000thom_z3s4 Identifier-ark ark:/13960/t3816596q Invoice 1652 Isbn 0753812851 Lccn 2002437714 Ocr tesseract 5.0.0-alpha-20201231-10-g1236 Ocr_detected_lang en Ocr_detected_lang_conf 1.0000 Ocr_detected_script Latin Ocr_detected_script_conf 0.9522 Ocr_module_version 0.0.13 Ocr_parameters -l eng Old_pallet IA-NS-2000281 Openlibrary_editionKneel out there in the middle of the class. You are one of the idlest boys I ever met. Copy out your themes again the rest of you. He turned the handle and opened the door and fumbled for the handle of the green baize door inside. He found it and pushed it open and went in. Stephen looked at the faces of the fellows but they were all looking across the playground. He wanted to ask somebody about it. What did that mean about the smugging in the square? Why did the five fellows out of the higher line run away for that? It was a joke, he thought. Simon Moonan had nice clothes and one night he had shown him a ball of creamy sweets that the fellows of the football fifteen had rolled down to him along the carpet in the middle of the refectory when he was at the door. It was the night of the match against the Bective Rangers; and the ball was made just like a red and green apple only it opened and it was full of the creamy sweets. And one day Boyle had said that an elephant had two tuskers instead of two tusks and that was why he was called Tusker Boyle but some fellows called him Lady Boyle because he was always at his nails, paring them. The rector held his hand across the side of the desk where the skull was and Stephen, placing his hand in it for a moment, felt a cool moist palm. Dylan Thomas (identificabil pentru cine ştie cît timp cu inubliabilul do not go gentle into that good night) a construit Portretul artistului ca tînăr cîine din zece povestiri care-şi adună conţinutul din experineţele directe ale lui Thomas, toate legate de vîrstele primelor descoperiri revelatorii: copilăria şi adolescenţa. Desigur, ele pot fi citite în orice ordine preferaţi, fără teamă că pierdeţi vreun fir care le ordonează (asta deşi există cîteva personaje şi peisaje recurente, dar fără ca ele să condiţioneze cursul lecturii). Citite în ordine cronologică, ele lasă să se vadă o gradaţie a vîrstelor şi a transformărilor care îmbogăţeşte foarte mult experienţa de lectură.

Tot martor tăcut e şi în scenele din care se construieşte „Patricia, Edith şi Arnold“, o povestire despre două prietene, ambele angajate pentru munci de menaj, eventual cu servicii de bonă incluse, care descoperă că au fost duse de nas de aceaşi Arnold, aparent îndrăgostit de amîndouă. Copilul asistă la preparativele confruntării dintre cei trei şi la scena propriu zisă, trădînd, în acest timp, prin gesturi sau reacţii „de contrast“ o gamă vastă de senzaţii în raport cu încurcăturile adulţilor. Tot martor, dar ceva mai implicat, va fi şi într-o povestire care deja e plasată în adolescenţă, un text-cheie pentru întreg volumul şi preferatul meu: „Întocmai ca nişte căţelandri“. Aici e vorba despre Dylan puştiul fascinat de periferii şi de locuri de trecere, indecise, provizorii. De data asta, un pod de cale ferată e locul unei întîlniri (cu alţi doi adolescenţi forţaţi să-şi asume o maturizare forţată, după nişte escapade amoroase încărcate de consecinţe), dar şi locul prielnic unei stări de fond, esenţiale pentru identitatea celui care povesteşte. Just as Adrian Mole defined me aged 13¾, Dylan Thomas’ ‘Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog’ did so at 18. After receiving this as a gift from my parents at age 13, I’m glad I waited to read this when I was a little older. In 10 short stories, Thomas takes you through his childhood starting as a youngster and finishing as a young man. Rife with his signature poetic style; his prose are full of youthful misadventure, naturalistic description and genuine feeling. Tub of guts, said Mr Dedalus coarsely. He has a handsome face, mind you, in repose. You should see that fellow lapping up his bacon and cabbage of a cold winter's day. O Johnny!

Book contents

Get at your work, all of you, cried the prefect of studies from the door. Father Dolan will be in every day to see if any boy, any lazy idle little loafer wants flogging. Every day. Every day. Stephen looked at the plump turkey which had lain, trussed and skewered, on the kitchen table. He knew that his father had paid a guinea for it in Dunn's of D'Olier Street and that the man had prodded it often at the breastbone to show how good it was: and he remembered the man's voice when he had said: Visit, we beseech Thee, O Lord, this habitation and drive away from it all the snares of the enemy. May Thy holy angels dwell herein to preserve us in peace and may Thy blessing be always upon us through Christ, Our Lord. Amen. He was walking down along the matting and he saw the door before him. It was impossible: he could not. He thought of the baldy head of the prefect of studies with the cruel no-coloured eyes looking at him and he heard the voice of the prefect of studies asking him twice what his name was. Why could he not remember the name when he was told the first time? Was he not listening the first time or was it to make fun out of the name? The great men in the history had names like that and nobody made fun of them. It was his own name that he should have made fun of if he wanted to make fun. Dolan: it was like the name of a woman who washed clothes. There are of course lighter moments as well; noisy and carefree childhood games of scalping; a fight that turns into friendship—and a friendly competition of showing off their respective skills; walks outside in nature; Mrs Prothero in ‘Old Garbo’ who takes advantage of a message misunderstood; and the author and his friends in ‘Where the Tawe Flows’ weaving a story together with a character Mary in particular who ends up having a rather complicated, or should one say convoluted life.