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Forrest Leo

    Forrest Leo píše hry a romány, ktoré sa ponárajú do ľudskej existencie s jedinečným suchým humorom a občasnou absurditou. Jeho štýl je často prirovnávaný ku klasikom americkej literatúry, no vždy si zachováva vlastný, nezameniteľný hlas. Leo skúma zložité vzťahy medzi postavami a ich prostredím, často v neobvyklých a náročných situáciách. Jeho diela sú zamyslením sa nad hľadaním zmyslu v chaotickom svete.

    Der Gentleman
    The Gentleman
    • The Gentleman

      • 304 stránok
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      This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected proof Copyright © 2016 Forrest Leo One In Which I Find Myself Destitute & Rectify Matters in a Drastic Way. My name is Lionel Savage, I am twenty-two years old, I am a poet, and I do not love my wife. I loved her once, not without cause-but I do not any- more. She is a vapid, timid, querulous creature, and I find after six months of married life that my position has become quite intolerable and I am resolved upon killing myself. Here is how my plight came about. Once upon a time about a year ago, I was very young and foolish, and Simmons informed me we hadn't any money left. (Simmons is our butler.) 'Simmons,' I had said, 'I would like to buy a boat so that I can sail the seven seas.' I hadn't, I suppose, any real notion of actually sailing the seven seas-I am not an adventurous soul, and would relinquish my comfortable seat by the fire only with reluctance. But seemed a romantic thing to own a boat in which one could sail the seven seas, should one suddenly discover he had a mind to. But Simmons (whose hair is grey like a thunderhead) said with some remonstrance, 'I'm afraid you cannot afford a boat, sir.' 'I can't afford it? Nonsense, Sim- mons, a boat cannot cost much.' 'Even if it cost next to nothing, sir, u still could not afford it.' My heart sank. 'Do you mean to tell me, Simmons, that we haven't any money left?' 'I'm afraid not, sir.' 'Where on earth has it gone?' 'I don't mean to be critical, sir, but you tend toward profli- gacy.' 'Nonsense, Simmons. I don't buy anything except books. You cannot possibly tell me I've squandered my fortune upon books.' 'Squander is not the word I would have used, sir. But it was the books that did it, I believe.' Well, there it was. We were paupers. Such is the fate of the upper classes in this modern world. I didn't know what to do, and I dreaded telling Lizzie-she was in boarding school at the time, but even from a distance she can be quite fearsome. (Lizzie is my sister. She is sixteen.) Despite the popularity of my poetry, I was not making enough money at it to maintain our household at Pocklington Place. Another source of income was necessary. I set out to find one. Being a gentleman, the trades were quite out of the question. Commerce is not a gentlemanly pursuit and sounds wretched besides. I considered physic or law, but lawyers turn my stomach and physicians are scoun- drels all. I decided it must be marriage. Finding a suitable family to marry oneself off to might sound a bore, but turned out to be rather a lark. I sought out only families of enormous means, without bothering myself too much about social position. As such, I had a few truly un- pleasant experiences-but no dull ones. The Babingtons were every bit as eccentric as one reads in the papers and proved entirely unsuitable. (Not that I object to eccentricity; but it is not a quality one searches for in a wife.) Sir Francis Babington and I are old friends, he having once savaged? a collection of my poetry. 'Frank,' I said one evening, having contrived to run into him while taking a turn about the Park, 'I suppose it's about time I came over for dinner.' (I abhor taking turns about the Park. I only do so when I have ulterior motives.) 'Looking for a wife, Savage?' said he. It is for the attentive reader to decide for himself whether Mr Savage is deserving of that epithet.-HL. ?I believe this is meant to be an unfortunate play upon my cousin's name. It is a literary offence typical of him.-HL. My cousin refers naturally to Hyde Park. This (in case the reader has the misfortune to be on the Continent or in the Colonies) is the London park which people of fashion and breeding frequent.-HL. 1S 'Certainly not,' I replied coldly. I was th

      The Gentleman
    • London, Pocklington Place, um 1850: Lionel Savage, Dichter, gerade einmal 22 Jahre alt, hat beschlossen, Selbstmord zu begehen, da er des Geldes wegen geheiratet hat und danach feststellen musste, dass er seitdem keine Zeile mehr zu Papier bringen kann. Er zieht seinen Butler Simmons zurate, weil er nicht weiß, wie er den Selbstmord genau angehen soll. Der einfachste Weg scheint ihm der Tod durch Kopfschuss zu sein. Doch Simmons gibt zu bedenken, dass dabei allerlei Körperflüssigkeiten austreten würden, die jemand aufwischen müsste. Da Savage seinem treuen Butler eine solche Schweinerei nicht zumuten will, muss er eine andere Lösung für sein Problem finden. Just in dem Moment spaziert ein freundlicher Gentleman in sein Arbeitszimmer, der sich als der Teufel höchstpersönlich entpuppt. Und bevor er sich versieht, hat Savage seine Ehefrau an ihn verkauft. So glaubt er zumindest. Doch kaum ist die Ehefrau verschwunden, stellt Savage fest, dass sie die Liebe seines Lebens ist. Er muss sie wiederfinden. Nur wo zum Teufel soll die Hölle sein? Faule Aristokraten, ein Butler, der Teufel, eine hinterlistige kleine Schwester, Duelle und Beinahe-Duelle, Arktisexpeditionen und Scotland Yard. „Der Gentleman“ ist ein rasanter Abenteuerroman und eine feine kleine Tollerei. In seinem Debütroman gelingt es Leo, die Konventionen viktorianischer Fiktion zu parodieren. Wahnsinnig witzige Dialoge und komische Komplikationen runden die Geschichte ab.« Publishers Weekly

      Der Gentleman