Text extracted from opening pages of book: Copyright, 1910, by D. APPLETON & COMPANY HIS HOUR CHAPTER I The Sphinx was smiling its eternal smile. It was two o'clock in the morning The tourists had re turned to Cairo, and only an Arab or two lingered near the boy who held Tamara's camel, and then gradually slunk away; thus, but for Hafis, she was alone alone with her thoughts and the Sphinx. The strange, mystical face looked straight at her from the elevation where she sat. Its sensual mock ing calm penetrated her brain. The creature seemed to be laughing at all humanity and saying There is no beyond live and enjoy the things of the present Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow you die, and I I who sit here and know, tell you there is no beyond. The things you can touch and hold to your bodies are the only ones worth grasping. No, no said Tamara, half aloud, I will not I will not believe it. Fool, said the Sphinx. What is your soul? And if you have one, what have you done with it hitherto? Are you any' light in the world? No, 2 HIS HOUR you have lived upon the orders of others, you have let your individuality be crushed these twenty-four years since the day you could speak. Just an echo it is that fine thing, your soul Show it then, if you have one Do you possess an opinion? Not a bit of it. You simply announce platitudes that you have been taught were the right answers to all questions Be lieve me, you have no soul. So take what you can a body You certainly have that, one can see it well, snatch what it can bring you, since you have not enough will to try for higher things. Grasp what you may, poor weakling. That is the wisdom sitting here for eternity has taught me. Tamarastirred her hands in protest but she knew the indictment was true. Yes, her life had been one long commonplace vista of following leads like a sheep. But was it too late to change? Had she the cour age? Dared she think for herself? If not, the mys tic message of the Sphinx's smile were better followed: Eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow you die/' The blue of the sky seemed to soothe her, and speak of hope. Could any other country produce a sky of so deep a sapphire as the night sky of Egypt? All around was intense sensuous warmth and stillness al most as light as day. How wise she had been to break through the con ventionality which surrounded her; and it had re HIS HOUR 3 quired some nerve so as to be able to come here alone, on this one of her last nights in Egypt. She half smiled when she thought of Millicent Hard castle's face when she had first suggested it. My dear Tamara, what what an extraordinary thing for a woman to do Go to the Sphinx all alone at two o'clock in the morning. Would not people think it very strange?'* Tamara felt a qualm for a second, but was rebellious. Well, perhaps but do you know, Millicent, I be lieve I don't care. That carven block of stone has had a curious effect upon me. It has made me think as I have never done before. I want to take the clearest picture away with me I must go. And even Mrs. Hardcastle's mild assertion that it could equally well be viewed and studied at a more reasonable hour did not move Tamara, and while her friend slumbered comfortably in her bed at Mena House, she had set off, a self-conscious feeling of a tru ant schoolboy exalting and yet frightening her. Tamara was a widow. James Loraine had been everything that athoroughly respectable English hus band ought to be. He had treated her with kindness, he had given her a comfortable home he had only asked her to spend ten months of the year in the coun try, and he had never caused her a moment's jealousy. She could not remember her heart having beaten an atom faster; or slower for his coming or going. 4 HIS HOUR She had loved him, and her sisters and' brother, and father, all in the same devoted way, and when pneu monia had carried him off nearly two years before, she had grieved with the measure the loss of any one of them would hav
Elinor Sutherland was born in St Helier, Jersey, the younger daughter of Douglas Sutherland (1838–1865), a civil engineer of Scottish descent, and his wife Elinor Saunders (1841–1937).
Her father died when Elinor was two months old and her mother returned to the parental home in Guelph, Ontario, Canada with her two daughters, Lucy Christiana and Elinor.
Back in Canada, Elinor was schooled by her grandmother, Lucy Anne Saunders, in the ways of upper-class society. This early training not only gave her an entrée into aristocratic circles on her return to Europe, but it led to her being considered an authority on style and breeding when she worked in Hollywood in the 1920s.
Her mother remarried a Mr. Kennedy in 1871 and when Elinor was eight years old the family returned to Jersey. When there her schooling continued at home with a succession of governesses.
Elinor married Clayton Louis Glyn (1857–1915), a wealthy but spendthrift landowner, on 27 April 1892. The couple had two daughters, Margot and Juliet, but the marriage apparently foundered on mutual incompatibility although the couple remained together.
As a consequence Elinor had affairs with a succession of British aristocrats and some of her books are supposedly based on her various affairs, such as 'Three Weeks' (1907), allegedly inspired by her affair with Lord Alistair Innes Ker. That affair caused quite a furore and scandalized Edwardian society and one of the scenes in the book had one unnamed poet writing, Would you like to sin With Elinor Glyn On a tiger skin? Or would you prefer To err with her On some other fur?
She had began her writing in 1900, starting with a book based on letters to her mother, 'The Visits of Elizabeth'. And thereafter she more or less wrote one book each year to keep the wolf from the door, as her husband was debt-ridden from 1908, and also to keep up her standard of living. After several years of illness her husband died in 1915.
Early in her writing career she was recognised as one of the pioneers of what could be called erotic fiction, although not by modern-day standards, and she coined the use of the world 'It' to mean at the time sex-appeal and she helped to make Clara Bow a star by the use of the sobriquet for her of 'The It Girl'.
On the strength of her reputation and success she moved to Hollywood in 1920 and in 1921 was featured as one of the famous personalities in a Ralph Barton cartoon drawn especially for 'Vanity Fair' magazine.
A number of her books were made into films, most notably 'Beyond the Rocks' (1906), which starred Rudolph Valentino and Gloria Swanson, and she was a scriptwriter for the silent movie industry, working for both MGM and Paramount Pictures in the mid-1920s. In addition she also had a brief career as one of the earliest female directors.
In 1927, by which time she had published 32 novels, she once again appeared in some verse of the day. Songsmith Lorenz Hart immortalised her in his song 'My Heart Stood Still' when he wrote, I read my Plato Love, I thought a sin But since your kiss I'm reading missus Glyn!
She was so universally popular and well-known in the 1920s that she even made a cameo appearance as herself in the 1928 film 'Show People'.
As well as her novels, she wrote wrote magazine articles for the Hearst Press giving advice on 'how to keep your man' and also giving health and beauty tips. In 1922 she published 'The Elinor Glyn System of Writing', which gives an insight into writing for Hollywood studios and magazine editors.
In later life she moved to the United Kingdom, settling in London. She wrote over 40 books, the last of which was 'The Third Eye' (1940) and she died in Chelsea on 23 September 1943, being survived by her two daughters.
This book was ridiculous even for Glyn, although I did enjoy aspects of the heroine's characterisation, and I appreciated the Russian setting. Still -- can you believe that a woman who had been married for several years before she was widowed would be unable to tell whether or not she'd been raped while unconscious by her tempestuous Russian love interest? I can't. The fact that he leaves her to stew in suspense as preparations for their wedding are underway -- because he wants her to love him in spite of anything he may have done to her -- didn't improve matters. Gah. This would have been one star, except that I really did enjoy the book up until the end, and it's not like I expect Glyn's work to be remotely aligned with my own feminist liberal ideology.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I read this book when I was about 13 years old. I was very much impressed with it and even though never forgot some of it`s tender scenes I couldn't remember neither the name nor the author of it. Finally, I placed a search post on "WHAT'S THE NAME OF THAT BOOK???" group on goodreads and FINALLY someone came up with the right book 4 years after the initial posting. I would like to take this opportunity to THANK the group members who tried to help over the years, especially to ANA who, in fact, came up with the actual book suggestion.
As for the book; on my second reading I wasn't impressed as much as when I first read it. Everything has more impact on youth. Within time we get jaded in our reading taste as well as anything else in life. Unfortunately, passage of time cost us the inoconcent delight we get from many things in life.
Con i suoi romanzi, Elinor Glyn gira un po' tutto il mondo del suo tempo (ancora ignaro della globalizzazione che ne avrebbe fatto un'unica massa amorfa) cercando di cogliere il carattere profondo di ogni paese. E questo principe russo, così selvaggio e passionale, non mi è sembrato più improbabile e convenzionale dei protagonisti dei romanzi di Lermontov (che l'autrice cita ripetutamente, e aveva sulla questione informazioni di primo piano). La storia d'amore si accende e incendia rapidamente, come un'unica, sfolgorante fiammata, trascinando il lettore nel suo mondo esotico e un po' fiabesco.
Okropne. Po pierwszych stronach oczekiwałam czegoś więcej, a dostałam pierwowzór słabych wattpadowskich opowiadań. Może nie miałabym aż tak wielkich zarzutów, gdyby nie ta obrzydliwa końcówka. Romantyzowanie takich rzeczy, okropieństwo. Romantyzowanie takich postaci jak główny bohater, któremu wszystko uchodzi na sucho, żałosne. Niemożliwe, że ta książka ma aż tyle gwiazdek.
ALL THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. The Barbara Cartland source books collection is a deep vein of 'take me away' from responsibility fantasies, and this is one. If you meet this guy in real life, RUN!
I read this because I remember the line about Elinor Glyn from The Music Man, and I wanted to see how scandalous she really was. Also, I was interested in seeing how Glyn portrays pre-Revolution Russia. Glyn actually is not a bad writer overall; she keeps things interesting. The main hero is portrayed much the way that sheiks and similar characters are still used in romance novels today--dangerous and exotic, but very attractive. Her portrayal of Russians is about what I expected, but I agree with the other reviewer that the ending ruins it all. Perhaps Glyn is to blame for the piles of romance novels where the man does everything short of raping the woman (and in some cases actually does), and the woman loves it. If so, thanks a lot, Glyn.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Seriously, as I continued to read this book, I started to hate Girtzko more and more. I enjoyed reading this for the most part, but the ending just ruins it for me. I'm glad he didn't really force himself on, her but letting her think that he really did so that she will marry him and love him regardless of what he does, ruined the ending for me. It's a shame too because the writing was good and kept me interesting in find out what would happen next.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A very unusual main character. The prince was a puzzle but you knew he was honest. Perhaps more honest than any of us are deep down. I could relate with him in a way that I would never want to admit to. He could be compared to a modern day cave man. I do not know but I am glad I read this book. I was surprised by the ending.