Dixon was alive again. Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way; not for him the slow, gracious wandering from the halls of sleep, but a summary, forcible ejection. he lay sprawled, too wicked to move, spewed up like a broken spider-crab on the tarry shingle of the morning. The light did him harm, but not as much as looking at things did; he resolved, having done it once, never to move his eyeballs again.A dusty thudding in his head made the scene before him beat like a pulse. His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum. During the night, too, he'd somehow been on a cross-country run and then been expertly beaten up by secret police. He felt bad.There is a literary point of some significance here pace Bridget Jones' Diary, to be discussed in Tuesday's lecture.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Helen Fielding on Hangovers
The (to me, hilarious) passage that I read out in lecture from Kingsley Amis' Lucky Jim that, I suggest, Helen Fielding has in mind in her portrayal of Bridget Jones' hangover (pp 59-60) reads as follows, for you to better make the comparison.