Fast Fiction: The Literary Lecture
Pity Mr Bill Selsey. He intended to talk about Thomas Churchyard, the poet. The chairman announces the subject as Sex and Sin in 20th Century Literature. The protagonist in Richard Mallinson’s story finds himself among the literary greats.
The chairman said, 'Here is Mr Bill Selsey, who will now deliver this year's| lecture on Sex And Sin In 20th Century Literature.
Well, that was a surprise. I had assumed that my subject, as previously agreed, was Thomas Churchyard, Poet.
Clearly something had gone wrong and I was left bemused. Still, a word or two about Thomas Churchyard might be in order here . . .
He outlived the Tudors (just) and celebrated James I's entry into London. Then he died, aged 84.
According to C S Lewis, he had written drab pageant verses and metrical journalism about wars: 'Here and there, we meet a poem less bad than the rest.'
Oh dear. Poor old Thomas Churchyard ... In the corner of which English churchyard, I wonder, does he lie buried? (No, don't tell me.)Anyway, what was I to do? I could hardly contradict the chairman in public. He was a prickly fellow at the best of times. I merely surveyed the audience.
In the front row , ignoring each other, were Kingsley Amis, William (Naked Lunch) Burroughs, Virginia Woolf and DH Lawrence.
Behind them were William Faulkner, Graham Greene and F Scott Fitzgerald.
Among others farther back were George Gissing (scowling), Raymond Carver (smoking), Evelyn Waugh (snoring) and Kafka (trying to hide.)
Also I spotted gaunt Kierkegaard, whose name, I suddenly remembered, means churchyard in Danish. And next to him, fittingly, was J-P Sartre.
A voice boomed, 'You there, hurry up, I need to get back to Majorca.'
I leaned forward, obsequiously.
'Certainly, Mr Graves,' I said, 'I will do everything that I can.'
'Well, then, for god's sake be quick' - and I thought to myself I don't have to put up with this sort of crap, do I?
(Or any sort of crap.)
A languid cheer arose as I shot off the platform.
