Audience of One

The story, continued

Have a read of part one and part two first.

“Now what weather do you imagine in that passage?” asked the tutor. He was short, balding, wearing a green tweed jacket and an undistinctive tie. He realised the stereotype attached to his subject (English) and profession (academic) and lived up to it as much as he could. The most recent novel on his office shelves was Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited. At home he read Harry Potter fan fiction (the novels themselves being hid inside Dickens’ dust jackets).

The student he was addressing looked down at the page of text in front of her. After last night, it was hard to concentrate.

“I imagine it’s cold but sunny – bright blue sky, maybe a few wispy white clouds…”

“And where in the text have you described this?”

The student suddenly realised what her tutor was getting at. “No – it’s not described in the text. I didn’t think it necessary.”

“Even after the snow of the previous section?”

The student paused. He had a point – sort of. Knowing what the weather was like was unessential to the scene, surely? She kept this to herself though – an argument over her use of pathetic fallacy (or rather its absence) would be forthcoming unless she stayed quiet.

“I guess you’re right.”

The tutor leaned back in his chair, taking the glass of port from his desk. “Right about what?”

The student looked up, suddenly confused. “About needing the description of the weather.”

“Did I say you needed the description of the weather?”

The student sighed resignedly and started to think. “No, but you implied it.”

“Right. It was implied. Just as in your text it was implied that the weather was snowy. Implication is powerful. Where does that leave you for the next scene?”

“Ah. Yes.” So he did have a point. The next scene, of course, relied on slightly more clement weather than snow. His point would have been obvious, had she not been very distracted (and not a little drunk) as she rushed it off after the party last night.

Last night! It wasn’t her fault she was out of it, what with the party replaying in slow motion every few minutes. The look on his face… she would have cried herself to sleep if she’d been able to sleep. As it was, she just cried.

Her tutor got up and went over to his bookcase. He started straightening a Dickens’ novel. “Right, Sarah, that’ll be all. Deadline is Tuesday. Any problems…” He left the offer hanging as usual. She got up, thanked him, and left the office, neglecting even to correct him – her name was Sandra, not Sarah.

The tutor grunted as she left the room. He’d called her Sarah last time – he was pushing it, using that name twice. She might notice that the forgetfulness was only for show. That said, she hadn’t corrected him this time. Maybe it didn’t matter so much.

He looked at his watch, then reached again for the port, and “Great Expectations”.

Matthew @ 20:38, April 19, 2006 to Miscellaneous | Comments (2)