the woman.
But if he did nothing to scare the shit out of this loudmouth the womanâs enjoyment of the Prentis, and his own, would be greatly negatived. Manse believed he had a responsibility to her and to the Edward Prentis and to the world of art generally. He remembered a scene from that American TV gangster show, The Sopranos , where one of the toughs thinks a group in a nightclub are getting too boisterous. He puts up with it for a while but then goes and whispers something to one of the men in the group who suddenly looks terrified, and the nuisance behaviour stops at once. A girl watching is fascinated by the delicate show of power and gets to fancy the tough. Theyâre soon off somewhere as a pair and well into passion. But Manse couldnât be sure this woman in front of the Prentis would feel like that. Manse preferred to be rated a Prentis person, a Pre-Raphaelite person, not a Soprano-type person.
Yes, tricky, tricky. Yes, complicated, complicated.
âWhat a crummy old picture theyâre looking at, anyway,â the father said.
âCrap,â the younger boy said.
âFeeble,â the mother said. âHalf-baked. Wishy-washy.â
And to Manse now the comments seemed to mean that, unavoidably, he would have to scare the shit out of this loudmouth by sudden nearness and a handful of sotto words. Shale spent a little while carefully selecting the sotto words to be spoken into the loudmouthâs ear. They were: âGet these kids under control, as would be suitable for a room of beautiful and fascinating works, Iâm sure youâll agree, cunt, or Iâll have your fucking throat out.â Manse could see that the loudmouth heard this pretty well. His face went like that frightened face in The Sopranos.
âWhat did he say, Geoff?â the wife snarled with genuine interest.
âExcuse me, I didnât intend to interrupt your gaze at the Burne-Jones etcetera, but I asked Geoff which of the seven or eight pictures in this room he thought the most Pre-Raphaelitish, if we take âPre-Raphaelitishâ to mean âin the style of the Pre-Raphaelitesâ,â Manse said.
âWhat?â the wife said. âGeoff, are you all right?â
âI think Geoffâs trying to make up his mind on which to choose,â Manse said. âItâs a bit challenging to have a question like that chucked at you without warning.â
âBoys, weâre going,â Geoff said. âNow.â
âWhy?â the older one said. âBecause of ugly mug?â
âWhy?â the wife said.
âNow,â Geoff said.
âHas he scared you somehow?â the wife said.
âThese arenât my kind of pictures,â Geoff said.
âGeoff seems to me more a Michelangelo man. Itâs a matter of taste,â Manse replied. When the family had gone, he went and stood next to the woman again, studying the Prentis.
âWhen it comes to pictures, peopleâs tastes are various and unpredictable,â she said.
âMy mother used to remark, âThereâs no accounting for taste.â She didnât mean it in a cruel or snobby way. No. Just that people varied. One taste was not better than another, but different , nothing else. The Pre-Raphaelites donât do the trick for some folk and it is entirely their right to state this and move on to some other art, for instance Michelangelo, as I suggested, or, perhaps, Per Kirkeby or Manet or, indeed, Monet. Or, then, Jackson Pollock. I always think of taste as being truly democratic.â
âBut I definitely would not say wishy-washy for Remembrance .â
âNor half-baked. Iâd prefer the words âsubtleâ, ârefinedâ,â Manse said.
Chapter Eleven
2009
For Harpur, another very notable thing about Iles was that occasionally he would accept advice. At these moments he definitely seemed to realize there might be people around who knew more about a
But if he did nothing to scare the shit out of this loudmouth the womanâs enjoyment of the Prentis, and his own, would be greatly negatived. Manse believed he had a responsibility to her and to the Edward Prentis and to the world of art generally. He remembered a scene from that American TV gangster show, The Sopranos , where one of the toughs thinks a group in a nightclub are getting too boisterous. He puts up with it for a while but then goes and whispers something to one of the men in the group who suddenly looks terrified, and the nuisance behaviour stops at once. A girl watching is fascinated by the delicate show of power and gets to fancy the tough. Theyâre soon off somewhere as a pair and well into passion. But Manse couldnât be sure this woman in front of the Prentis would feel like that. Manse preferred to be rated a Prentis person, a Pre-Raphaelite person, not a Soprano-type person.
Yes, tricky, tricky. Yes, complicated, complicated.
âWhat a crummy old picture theyâre looking at, anyway,â the father said.
âCrap,â the younger boy said.
âFeeble,â the mother said. âHalf-baked. Wishy-washy.â
And to Manse now the comments seemed to mean that, unavoidably, he would have to scare the shit out of this loudmouth by sudden nearness and a handful of sotto words. Shale spent a little while carefully selecting the sotto words to be spoken into the loudmouthâs ear. They were: âGet these kids under control, as would be suitable for a room of beautiful and fascinating works, Iâm sure youâll agree, cunt, or Iâll have your fucking throat out.â Manse could see that the loudmouth heard this pretty well. His face went like that frightened face in The Sopranos.
âWhat did he say, Geoff?â the wife snarled with genuine interest.
âExcuse me, I didnât intend to interrupt your gaze at the Burne-Jones etcetera, but I asked Geoff which of the seven or eight pictures in this room he thought the most Pre-Raphaelitish, if we take âPre-Raphaelitishâ to mean âin the style of the Pre-Raphaelitesâ,â Manse said.
âWhat?â the wife said. âGeoff, are you all right?â
âI think Geoffâs trying to make up his mind on which to choose,â Manse said. âItâs a bit challenging to have a question like that chucked at you without warning.â
âBoys, weâre going,â Geoff said. âNow.â
âWhy?â the older one said. âBecause of ugly mug?â
âWhy?â the wife said.
âNow,â Geoff said.
âHas he scared you somehow?â the wife said.
âThese arenât my kind of pictures,â Geoff said.
âGeoff seems to me more a Michelangelo man. Itâs a matter of taste,â Manse replied. When the family had gone, he went and stood next to the woman again, studying the Prentis.
âWhen it comes to pictures, peopleâs tastes are various and unpredictable,â she said.
âMy mother used to remark, âThereâs no accounting for taste.â She didnât mean it in a cruel or snobby way. No. Just that people varied. One taste was not better than another, but different , nothing else. The Pre-Raphaelites donât do the trick for some folk and it is entirely their right to state this and move on to some other art, for instance Michelangelo, as I suggested, or, perhaps, Per Kirkeby or Manet or, indeed, Monet. Or, then, Jackson Pollock. I always think of taste as being truly democratic.â
âBut I definitely would not say wishy-washy for Remembrance .â
âNor half-baked. Iâd prefer the words âsubtleâ, ârefinedâ,â Manse said.
Chapter Eleven
2009
For Harpur, another very notable thing about Iles was that occasionally he would accept advice. At these moments he definitely seemed to realize there might be people around who knew more about a
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