08.04.2011 в 17:39
Пишет шлимазл:I was a normal eighteen-year-old: shuttered, self-conscious, untravelled and sneering; violently educated, socially crass, emotionally blurting. At least, all the other eighteen-year-olds I knew were like this, so I presumed it was normal. I was waiting to go up to university and had just got a job as a prep-school master. The fiction I had read predicted gaudy roles for me - as private tutor at the old stone mansion where peacocks roost in the yew hedges and chalky bones are discovered in the sealed-up priest's hole; as gullible ingénu at eccentric private establishment on the Welsh borders stuffed with robust drunkards and covert lechers. There would be careless girls and unimpressable butlers. You know the social moral of the story: the meritocrat becomes infected with snobbery.
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боже, джулиан барнс - это персональный л.н. толстой моей группы. мы все (кто ходит на занятия, ахаха), свято верим, что писал он со словарем.
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боже, джулиан барнс - это персональный л.н. толстой моей группы. мы все (кто ходит на занятия, ахаха), свято верим, что писал он со словарем.
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