John Patrick Higgins, a “fine” hanging in a quiet despair
If a friend says things are fine, he may worry. This friend should not be a dog in a burning room with a small hat – we are further. Paul Raskh, Study of Personality in theatrical Writer John Patrick Higgins A novel for the first timeHe says “fine” a lot. When the bar servant asks if the companion of Paul’s chaotic and drinking is fine, Paul excuses: “He is fine.” When a young man in a bus refuses Paul’s apology for racist stereotypes, Paul summarizes this by the negative English language method: “fine.” Meaning “Well, make it on your way.” Paul says he is fine. Paul is not fine.
Higgins created himself with the 2016 play, Every day I wake up optimisticThe 43 -year -old Malachi wanders on his own through depression, thinking about suicide, and peripheral disease. It is a comedy, but it plays despair and recognized pain. Through more plays and short stories and PodcastHiggins continued to explore the calm despair in which the British attached. Even his property, in the Farhan Memorandum of Social Dental Care, I made a mistake, Teeth: oral history. The lives of middle -aged men are John Patrick Higgins as a statue Izymandias La Chili: Epic, broken, and Tragi-Comic. The effects of the unit that no one visits. Now, after nearly a decade has passed pooterish Other than the hero, a person who is nearly a decade.
Paul is a 57 -year -old London. He is single. It is an orphan. It is alone. His favorite band is Smith. Nothing is anything proud to. Paul loves to be proud of something, but it is difficult now to be the right time to achieve anything that has almost passed. He used to be in the band. He is trying to write a novel. It is good.
He tries to write in a café, where Verisimailade may pick up the way people speak. This is because of his novel about magnetic hypnota made from vampires who live in modern Belfast, an unprecedented city. He does not go well and is the café’s mistake. These places were full of real people and now they are full of them Middle -layer furnished. He believes this while trying to write a novel in front of everyone.
When a woman asks Paul to see her bag, he is pleased to admit that he is responsible and capable. With an overwhelming happiness and relief to take a break from the universal novel. However, he does not believe that the person who is due to demanding that the bag is the same woman who left her with him, so he refuses to allow her to take her. He sees himself as an initial man, but the rest of the cafe believes he is just a late. It is similar to something of the British comic play that Paul watched as a child: The rise and fall of Rignald Perrinand Sorryand Dear John. There were many of them. In each one, a man who is more than 40 his minds loses slowly, and like the master of this type, David NobsJohn Patrick HighGins Stage is running a joyful of this middle -aged infection. Paul firmly should see all this coming – see all the offers – but his generation I think they are different.
He was born in 1967, a day Sergeant. Bieber club is single hearts He was released, imagined by the sex brought by the Beatles and DH Lawrence to England Four years ago. He used to tell people this at parties. Love Salim SinaiWho, in Salman Rushdie Midnight children are born, at the present time, India is gaining independence, a firm Paul’s life in a step with the liberation of Britain from suffocating matching, respect, and offices who suffer from the Ramy. The villain will witness and after the villain. It is the tenth generation. He did not mention the truth of the Beatles at parties anymore. He does not go to parties anyway and his co -workers do not know.
Paul does not say much to anyone. It is easier to say “fine”. Coming from Latin, VeniceIt suggests the end, ending. On paper music, it indicates the final. Stop. This is the way Paul uses, to stop or abandon the conversation. Paul cannot argue with young people on the bus to exempt him from white guilt. fine. He cannot recognize his friend, alcohol addiction in Brendan. He is fine. Just stop. Stop conversation. Paul no longer controls him anymore. Not cultural conversation. No between people.
The only person he is talking about himself and he is all the things he cannot express, and the things he fears to say, and that he feels that he cannot say. It is not like a former fallen hero, Morisi, but the inner monologue of constipation thought. He lived alone so long that he is supported by repercussions and self -analysis. If these ideas will share with anyone, this will isolate him more. Brendan drunk does not say what he really thinks. He ascended to the right thing he says to young people and makes things worse. Therefore, it publishes “fine”, like Finance At the end of a French movie.
In a pub, while he again tries to write, the beautiful servant and her unpleasant music friend notice. What is the benefit of what he does to tell them what he really thinks about, about the world? Why shouldn’t you care. He is retreating inside him, and he did not go well, but he believes, long and uninterrupted: “The planet is on the donkey, his companion, and you are ridiculous in the band? In the Corsac made of human skin and drink each other, not for fun, although it looks like it is in a band.
Of course, Paul was in a band once. Now he writes a novel. A novel for the first time. In his time.
It is not a good novel. This knows very much, and he stares in the sentence that he was able to press: “Robinson pushed his hand to the sofa’s belly and met with something warm and connected, something hairy and vital with small rough teeth.” What ends on the page is not anywhere near his own ideas. Paul envies accurately CalvinoCamel, comic craft Wodehouse. If Paul can get out of himself, they will undoubtedly feel jealous of John Patrick Higgins, whose high -fiber sentences such as Umber are flowing on the wonderful artist brush: “I pulled my phone from my pocket and started passing through the pages, my thumb is fair like a belly The stomach is backward across the screen. There is a gap between thought, feeling and action.
He does not transfer anything with the novel. He only stands instead of communicating. Paul writes in the cafe to be written. He writes in the pub to persuade the server by writing there is bright and early. Another tape sponsor is to click on a laptop – perhaps a novel also writes, and they may be able to bond. They do not.
The book is an excuse for work, not the work itself. It is an attempt that can be perceived in a way that Paul can control, but we can never control how to realize us. Here, the novel moves from the catalog of failure to the transformational narration. Paul cannot avoid perceived and determined correctly as what is: a middle -aged man. It is not the initial hero who saves a woman’s handbag. The sheikh is not in the right that recognizes the racist problems of London youth.
The liberation from the respect in which he did nothing to change this. Even at home in his apartment, he cannot escape perception. The window cleaner holds it while he masturbates the pornography of the Internet, and while Paul was climbing trousers to close the curtains, he would fall on his face. The window cleaner invites an ambulance. They will not do it for a younger man.
Paul is not fake. He is completely aware of his mistakes, and he may be very aware. However, not the public error: he is middle -aged, lost and out of touch. Certainly, though, there is a medium floor, and some self -image meetings can agree on it. Paul wisely believes that he can formulate this happy space in a novel – Anhofel about magnetic hypnotic.
This barely surprised. His life was run with youth culture and pop consumption. His apartment is the “Del waste from dead media” – two thousand LPS Venil, a thousand DVD tablets, five hundred compressed tablets. Consumption has stopped instead of identity, personality and work. These things – jacket badges, modern spoils, and hairstyles – communicate with who was when the stick was unable to move the thick tank of the inner monologue. But what do you do when these precautions no longer have a cultural currency, when they are mysterious like Ogham’s signs? Paul is considering writing a book specifically when no one reads the books anymore. Is anyone still reading Wodehouse? He asks, vows and brings in the future his literary failure.
This is the continuous interrogation that provides Paul from being a mere drip of middle -aged self -pity. However, the continuous interrogation objects to its way. It prevents him from acting.
It is difficult to blame him. We see what happens when he behaves – is insulted. He behaves, like speech, only confirms the victory of the general perception over the subjective image. Therefore, of course, he will not finish the novel. It is a very great danger. He does not know if this is good. “I wish I had someone to ask him,” he confesses, “A person I loved, trustworthy, or both. Someone to talk to him.”
This is the true purpose of the novel, but it cannot be honest with himself: he writes a story about magnetic hypnotic in Belfast instead. The novel stands instead of the thing that Paul really needs and wants it: an intimate relationship or friendship. A person can confirm that Paul, not the novel, is good. He’s fine. “Stop talking, Paul,” they will say, “Stop thinking, just.”
Without awareness, Paul should know this. His novel is in Belfast an excuse. An old friend and eternal flame live there now. The “research” that takes from Paul to visit it, but in fact, the motivation for the companion, a person will imagine you in good faith, not only as you see yourself, but as you can be, a mid -point between you and you and free. This is what love, whether it is romantic or Platonic love.
This maneuver does not work for urine, but the answer comes to him in a way. It is a comic theatrical method in the 1970s, of course, where the different threads return to return to the story A, B and C. Nothing happens without purpose or result. The novel, which initially appears as an infringement of one of the man, in fact, a plan of intervention and saving tightly drawn by the author of the unpopular personality. The work lines are not visible and accurately made like any of the beautiful sentences of the writer. Both the intestine funny and sad. The line between tragic and comedy is, of course, a good line.
John Patrick Higgins, a good knowledge of British comedy like Paul Raskh, has learned his lessons from that ancient comic play: A middle -aged man will find himself lost in modernity because respect and erosion are not affected to all of us. However, one conference in the comic play has ended: the world does not re -seize and eventually return. In a novel, the character and the world must change, no matter how small, and ideally, for the better. Paul was firmly right in this matter: the novel was the appropriate way for him. A somewhat better man comes out of it.
