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Additional resources for A Cry in the Night
I conduct the classes in Russian. Mrs Fire, who is now working at the library part-time--' 'Yes--Mrs Thayer, I know. ' He did. Could he come to inspect it in approximately half an hour? Yes, she would be in. Untenderly she cradled the receiver. ' asked her husband, looking back, pudgy freckled hand on banister, on his way upstairs to the security of his study. ' cried Laurence. ' He trudged up, truculently. ' He had turned the comer of the stairs--she heard his hand squeaking on the banisters, then striking them.
The heaving we have already noted in another connexion would become here a veritable earthquake. Directing his memory, with all the lights on and all the masks of the mind a-miming, toward the days of his fervid and receptive youth (in a brilliant cosmos that seemed all the fresher for having been abolished by one blow of history), Pnin would get drunk on his private wines as he produced sample after sample of what his listeners politely surmised was Russian humour. Presently the fun would become too much for him; pear-shaped tears would trickle down his tanned cheeks.
Found himself sliding back into his own childhood. This sensation had the sharpness of retrospective detail that is said to be the dramatic privilege of drowning individuals, especially in the former Russian Navy--a phenomenon of suffocation that a veteran psychoanalyst, whose name excapes me, has explained as being the subconsciously evoked shock of one's baptism which causes an explosion of intervening recollections between the first immersion and the last. It all happened in a flash but there is no way of rendering it in less than so many consecutive words.