They walk in the city priestley краткое содержание

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Priestley, John Bointon (1894-1984) is the author of numerous novels, plays and literary essays well-known all over the world. Of his pre-war novels the most famous are "The Good Companions", "Angel Pavement", "They Walk in the City", and "Wonder Hero". His war novels "Blackout in Greatley", "Daylight on Saturday" and "Three Men in New Suits", were very popular with the readers during and after the Second World War. The daring and unusual composition of some of his plays (such as "Dangerous Corner", "Time and the Conways") is a device for revealing people's real selves hidden under conventional masks.

Priestley loves people. His favourite character is a little man, an unimportant shy person, lost in the jungle of the big city, helpless in the face of forces which he cannot combat. In the description of an elderly comic actor in the given extract you will find something of the sad tenderness and compassion characteristic of Priestley's attitude towards "little men".

When they arrived at the music-hall,73 the doors for the second house were just opening,74 and they walked straight into the stalls, which were very cheap. The audience made a great deal of noise, especially in the balcony. Mrs. Burlow led the way to the front and found two very good seats for them. Rose bought a programme for twopence, gave it to Mrs. Burlow, then looked about her brightly.

It was a nice friendly little place, this music-hall, warmer and cosier and altogether more human than the picture theatres75 she usually attended. One thing she noticed. There were very few young people there. They were nearly all about Mrs. Burlow's age. So were the attendants. So were the members of the orchestra, who soon crept into their pit, wiping their mouths. Very few of the turns76 were young; they themselves, their creased and fading scenery, their worn properties, their jokes and many of their songs were getting on in years. And the loudest applause always came when a performer said he would imitate "our dear old favourite" So-and-so, and named a music-hall star that Rose had never heard of, or when a singer would tell them that the new songs were all very well in their way but that the old songs were best and he or she would "endeavour to render" one of their old favourite ditties. The result of this was that though the whole place was so cosy and friendly, it was also rather sad. Youth had fled from it. There was no bloom on anything here. Joints were stiff, eyes anxious behind the mask of paint.

One turn was an eccentric fellow with a grotesque makeup, a deadwhite face and a very red nose, and his costume was that of a ragged tramp. He made little jokes, fell over himself, and then climbed on to the back of a chair, made more little jokes and played the accordion, Rose thought him quite funny at first, but very soon changed her mind about him. She was sitting near enough to see his real face, peering anxiously through that mask. It was old, weary, desolate. And from where she sat, she could see into the wings and standing there, never taking her eyes off the performer, was an elderly woman, holding a dressing gown in one hand and a small medicine glass in the other. And then Rose wanted him to stop clowning for them, wanted the curtain to come down, so that he could put on that dressing gown, drink his medicine or whatever it is, and go away with the elderly woman, and rest and not worry any more.But she said nothing to Mrs. Burlow, who was enjoying herself, and laughing and clapping as hard as anyone there, perhaps because she too was no longer young and was being entertained by people of her own age.

IV. Answer the questions:

1. When did Rose and Mrs. Burlow arrive at the music-hall? 2. Where were their seats? 3. Were the stalls expensive? 4. In what way did the audience behave? 5. What kind of place was the music-hall? What was its most characteristic feature? 6. Were the attendants and the members of the orchestra young or elderly people? 7. What did the scenery and the properties look like? 8. When did the loudest applause come? Why? 9. Why does the author say that the music-hall was rather sad though it was cosy and friendly? 10. Why were the actor's eyes anxious behind the mask of paint? 11. What did the man in the costume of a tramp do on the stage? 12. Did Rose like his acting? 13. What did she see in the wings? 14. Why did she say nothing to Mrs. Burlow? 15. How does this episode characterize Rose? 16. What does the author want to tell us by this episode?

Этот отрывок взят из "Они гуляют по городу" Джона Бойнтона Пристли (1894-1984), британского писателя и диктора, который выражал юмористический взгляд на английскую жизнь в своих романах. Среди многих его пьес - "Опасный поворот". Он также писал о литературе, путешествиях и обществе. Главной героиней романа "Они гуляют по городу" является Роуз Сэлтер, родившаяся в небольшом текстильном городе Англии, которая приезжает в Лондон и становится официанткой.

Что делать Роуз показала старшая официантка, которая носила приготовленные на медленном огне яйца на тосте и чайники с чаем в течение последних десяти лет, по имени Уэйд. Она знала каждую уловку, помогающую увильнуть от работы, и всегда говорила о клиентах так, как будто они были достаточно любезными, но иногда опасными сумасшедшими, при этом она считала, что клиент всегда неправ.

Это было удачей для Роуз, которая, несмотря на ее беспокойство до дрожи в начале, которое делало каждый поход к столу ужасающим испытанием, не могла не допускать ошибок. Труднее всего Роуз было понимать, что говорили люди. Она привыкла слышать, как люди кричат изо всех сил своими грубыми халифордскими голосами.

Здесь люди или бормотали что-то в свои газеты или болтали высоким птичьим лондонским тоном, в котором вообще не было никакого смысла. Некоторые были неприятны: ими самими управлял бос примерно половину дня, а теперь наступала их очередь становиться важнее и неприятнее кого-то.

В отличие от мисс Уэйд, которая относилась к этому легко, и у которой было минимум свободного времени и симпатии, которые она тратила бы на клиентов, Роуз делала все не только с рвением, но и доброжелательно. Она сочувствовала большинству людей, которые приходили; они выглядели настолько взволнованными и усталыми; и она разве что была слишком сильно взволнована, убегая и принося им кварты чая и горы приготовленных на медленном огне яиц. Некоторые из них были также интересными. В ее третий день там у нее был настоящий разговор с одним странным и интересным человеком. Он вошел, неся кучу печатных листов в изорванной синей упаковке, опустился на стул, и вместо того, чтобы смотреть в меню, он смотрел уныло на эти печатные листы. Когда Роуз спросила его, чего он хотел, он даже не поднял глаз, но простонал: "Чего-нибудь".

"О, я не знаю. " Он посмотрел из-за своих грязных печатных листов на меню, и из-за меню на Роуз. Тогда он улыбнулся, вполне доброжелательно, и быстро заказал язык и салат, и булочку с кофе.

Он посмеялся над этим, хотя Роуз не видела ничего забавного в этом. Но он был довольно приятен. "Тогда, что Вы думаете о Лондоне, мисс Хэлифорд?"

"Ну", сказала Роуз осторожно, "Я думаю, что он мне понравится. Конечно, я еще не видела его большую часть."

"Конечно," сказал он серьезно, "Вы бы и не сумели. Фактически, Вы еще и не начали его осматривать, не так ли?"

Нет, она не начала. Он, казалось, хотел поговорить, и она была готова слушать, таким образом, она сумела задержаться, не выглядя при этом простой сплетницей.

"Это не город, такое место, как Халифорд, нет, это не город, знаешь ли," он медленно продолжал. "Это - дикая местность. Это - амазонские джунгли. Это - еще один Большой каньон. Целые племена живут там, захороненные вдали ото всех, никто не знает о них почти ничего. Однажды ночью Вы можете блуждать по одному из таких, и о вас больше никто никогда не услышит. Это - Лондон, девушка — это - Лондон." Он вздохнул, и Роуз, которая не могла понять эту ерунду, смотрела неопределенно сочувственно. Тогда он улыбнулся, и она улыбнулась в ответ ему, и в результате все его лицо засияло. "Вы - такая, каким должен быть этот салат — молодая и свежая, румяная и зеленая. И где Вы живете? В Ислингтоне? И почему в Ислингтоне? О, вам рекомендовали поехать туда? Ну, будьте осторожны. Есть старые ведьмы в Ислингтоне, живущие на вторых этажах за кружевными занавесками." Он вернулся к своему ланчу, и Роуз оставила его.

Когда она подошла, чтобы отдать ему счет, он посмотрел серьезно на нее. "Пожелайте мне удачи," сказал он. Роза сделала это, когда он встал. Он посмотрел на нее снова тяжелым взглядом. "Не забывайте о неизвестных племенах. И старых ведьмах в Ислингтоне. Берегитесь! Будьте осторожны, говорю я вам. Стоит вам повернуть не на ту улицу Лондона, и вы потеряны навсегда. До свидания, дитя мое."

This extract comes from "They Walk in the City", by John Boynton Priestley (1894-1984), a British writer and broadcaster who took a humorous view of English life in his novels. His many plays include "Dangerous Corner". He also wrote about literature, travel and society. The main character of the novel "They Walk in the City" is Rose.

Rose was shown what to do by a senior waitress, who had been carrying poached eggs on toast and pots of tea for the last ten years, called Wade. She knew every labour-saving trick and spoke of the customers always as if they were fairly amiable but occasionally.

This was fortunate for Rose, who, in spite of her trembling anxiety at first which made every trip to a table a terrific ordeal, could not help making a few mistakes. Rose's chief difficulty was in understanding what people said. She was used to.

Here people either mumbled into their newspapers or rattled away in high birdlike London tones that made no sense at all. Some were disagreeable: they had been bossed about half the day themselves, and now it.

Unlike Miss Wade, who took it easy and had only the minimum time and no real sympathy to spare for customers, Rose was not only willing but deeply sympathetic. She felt sorry for most of the people who came in; they looked so worried and tired; and she was only too anxious to rush away and bring them quarts of tea,1 and mounds of poached eggs. Some of them were exciting, too. On her third afternoon there she had quite a talk with one odd and exciting person. He came in carrying a mass of typed sheets in a ragged blue cover, flopped into a chair, and instead of.

"Oh, I dunno." He looked from his messy typed sheets to the menu, and from the menu up to Rose. Then he smiled, quite cheerfully, and promptly gave an order.

"No, I'm not," she told him. "Haliford. And — my God — what a place!" He said nothing more for a moment while she was setting out his lunch. Then he.

He laughed at that, though Rose saw nothing funny about it. But he was quite pleasant. "And what do you think of.

No, she hadn't. He seemed to want to talk and she was ready to listen, so she contrived to linger on without looking.

"It isn't a town, a place like Haliford, this isn't, y'know," he continued slowly. "It's a wilderness. It's the Amazonian jungle. It's another Grand Canyon. Whole tribes live here, buried away, nobody knows much about 'em. One night you might wander into the middle of one of 'em, and never be heard of again. That's London, lass — that's London." He sighed, and Rose, who could not make head or tail of this nonsense, looked vaguely sympathetic. Then he smiled, and so she smiled back at him, and the effect was to make his whole face to light up. "You're what this salad ought to have been — young and fresh and crisp and green. And where d'you live? Islington? And why Islington? Oh.

When she went to give him his bill, he stared gravely at her. "Wish me luck," he said. Rose did, as he got up. He looked hard at her again. "Don't forget the unknown tribes. Or the old witches in Islington. Watch out! Be careful, I say. Turn down the.

*Цитирирование части задания со ссылкой на учебник производится исключительно в учебных целях для лучшего понимания разбора решения задания.

TEXT. ROSE AT THE MUSIC-HALL From "They Walk in the City"by J. B. Priestley
Priestley, John Bointon (1894-1984) is the author of numerous novels, plays and literary essays well-known all over the world. Of his pre-war novels the most famous are "The Good Companions", "Angel Pavement", "They Walk in the City", and "Wonder Hero". His war novels "Blackout in Greatley", "Daylight on Saturday" and "Three Men in New Suits", were very popular with the readers during and after the Second World War. The daring and unusual composition of some of his plays (such as "Dangerous Corner", "Time and the Conways") is a device for revealing people's real selves hidden under conventional masks.Priestley loves people. His favourite character is a little man, an unimportant shy person, lost in the jungle of the big city, helpless in the face of forces which he cannot combat. In the description of an elderly comic actor in the given extract you will find something of the sad tenderness and compassion characteristic of Priestley's attitude towards "little men".

When they arrived at the music-hall, the doors for the second house were just opening, and they walked straight into the stalls, which were very cheap. The audience made a great deal of noise, especially in the balcony. Mrs. Burlow led the way to the front and found two very good seats for them. Rose bought a programme for twopence, gave it to Mrs. Burlow, then looked about her brightly.

It was a nice friendly little place, this music-hall, warmer and cosier and altogether more human than the picture theatres she usually attended. One thing she noticed. There were very few young people there. They were nearly all about Mrs. Burlow's age. So were the attendants. So were the members of the orchestra, who soon crept into their pit, wiping their mouths. Very few of the turns were young; they themselves, their creased and fading scenery, their worn properties, their jokes and many of their songs were getting on in years. And the loudest applause always came when a performer said he would imitate "our dear old favourite" So-and-so, and named a music-hall star that Rose had never heard of, or when a singer would tell them that the new songs were all very well in their way but that the old songs were best and he or she would "endeavour to render" one of their old favourite ditties. The result of this was that though the whole place was so cosy and friendly, it was also rather sad. Youth had fled from it. There was no bloom on anything here. Joints were stiff, eyes anxious behind the mask of paint.

But she said nothing to Mrs. Burlow, who was enjoying herself, and laughing and clapping as hard as anyone there, perhaps because she too was no longer young and was being entertained by people of her own age.

This was one of those mornings when the smoke and the Thames Valley mist decide to work a few miracles for their London, and especially for the oldest part of it, the City. The City, on these mornings, is an enchantment. There is a faintly luminous haze, now silver, now old gold, over everything. The buildings have shape and solidity but no weight; they hang in the air, like palaces out of the Arabian Nights; you could topple the dome off St. Paul's with a forefinger, push back the Mansion House, send the Monument floating into space. On these mornings, the old churches cannot be counted; there are more of them than ever. There is no less traffic than usual; the scarlet stream of buses still flows through the ancient narrow streets; the pavements are still thronged with bank messengers, office boys, policemen, clerks, typists, commissionaires, directors, secretaries, crooks, busy-bodies, idlers; but on these mornings all the buses, taxicabs, vans, lorries and all the pedestrians lose something of their ordinary solidity; they move behind gauze; they are tyred in velvet; their voices are muted; their movement is in slow motion. Whatever is new and vulgar and foolish contrives to lose itself in the denser patches of mist. But all the glimpses of ancient loveliness are there, perfectly framed and lighted: round every corner somebody is whispering a line or two of Chaucer. And on these mornings, the river is simply not true: there is no geography, nothing but pure poetry, down there; the water has gone and shapes out of an adventurous dream drift by on a tide of gilded and silvered air. Such is the City on one of these mornings, a place in a Gothic fairy tale, a mirage, a vision.

(From "They Walk in the City" by J. B. Priestley. Abridged)

XVII. Role-playing:

A group of guides suggests possible sightseeing routes about London (Moscow) to their office director. Each one speaks in favour of his/her suggestion trying to convince both the director and the guides that the route is the best. In the end the participants of the talk choose the most appropriate route.

XVIII. Describe (in writing) a sight or a view that once struck yon as picturesque, beautiful or unusual.

The best essays may be read in class and then placed in a wall paper, a special bulletin issued by the literary club, etc.

Note: The text above may serve as a perfect example of such description

XIX. Film: "Mr. Brown's Holiday." Film segment 3 "In Dear Old England" (Broadstairs). a) Watch and listen, b) Do the exercises from the guide to the film.

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