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516 pages, Paperback
First published February 22, 2010
"Fantasy does tend to be heavily plot-driven. But plot has gotten a bad rap for the past century, ever since the Modernists (who I revere, don’t get me wrong) took apart the Victorian novel and left it lying in pieces on an old bedsheet on the garage floor. Books like “Ulysses” and “The Sound and the Fury” and “Mrs. Dalloway” shifted the emphasis away from plot onto other things: psychology; dense, layered writing; a fidelity to moment-to-moment lived experience. Plot fell into disrepute.
But that was modernism. That was the 1920s and 1930s. It was a movement – a great movement, but like all movements, a thing of its time. Plot is due for a comeback. We’re remembering that it means something too."
“That’s the thing,” she said. “You add on getting rid of starvation and poverty like it’s a fringe benefit. Like the slice of lemon you get with a plate of whitebait.”
He laughed. “That’s why I succeed,” he said, “where the men with beautiful souls always fail. If you walk through the market asking the stallholders to give you a slice of lemon for free, they’d laugh in your face. Pay for the whitebait and you get a good meal of whitebait for your money, plus the free lemon.”
“You have a knack of getting yourself into the most appalling trouble, which then turns out to your advantage. You might argue that a truly fortunate man wouldn’t get into the dreadful mess in the first place; he’d live a life of blameless, uneventful rectitude and eventually die, happy and obscure. You, on the other hand, have all the luck; the good sort and the bad. If your enemies took you out into the bay and threw you in the sea, you’d come up a few minutes later with a fistful of pearls.”
Suddenly, Bassano smiled. “You like talking about her.”
“She’s the person I love most in the world,” Basso replied.
Bassano nodded slowly. “You reckon that if I go into business, it’ll make me all nasty and twisted.”
“That’s something of an oversimplification,” Basso said quietly, “but you’re on the right lines. I think that if you go into business, and you knuckle down and try really hard and apply yourself and harness all your considerable abilities, you might end up something like me. And that,” he added softly, “would be a dreadful shame. That’s all.”
“You’re an infuriating man, Uncle. Why?”
Basso stopped. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said. “My father always used to say, the man who wins in the end is the man who can get the most out of a defeat.”