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Untold Stories

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Let's enjoy Alan Bennett's revival play for what it is – Daniel Tapper on Alan Bennett's Enjoy guardian.co.uk, 6 February 2009

Untold Stories by Alan Bennett, First Edition - AbeBooks Untold Stories by Alan Bennett, First Edition - AbeBooks

There is much that clearly distresses Bennett about modern Britain, particularly the way that it educates its young, and the encroachment of the market on services such as libraries and galleries. But he disassociates himself firmly from Larkin's fastidious despair. His is a generous sadness; he wants what was good about the past to be available still, and fears that it is not. While he makes it clear that he sees the child of today as, in significant ways, disadvantaged, he also sees that the children themselves are as good as ever. In those days, I don't suppose there was all that much to do in Sardinia, visiting the hospital quite a high point. Nowadays they probably go water-skiing". See Faber authors in conversation and hear readings from their work at Faber Members events, literary festivals and at book shops across the UK. Despite a long history with both the National Theatre and the BBC, Bennett never writes on commission, saying "I don't work on commission, I just do it on spec. If people don't want it then it's too bad." [5] Roger Wilmut, From Fringe to Flying Circus – Celebrating a Unique Generation of Comedy 1960–1980, Eyre Methuen, 1980, ISBN 978-0-413-46950-2

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Dad shakes his head, meaning that these questions seem to him to have little to do with Mam’s current illness. At least, that’s what I take him to mean and I pretend not to see, because while I tend to agree, I don’t think now is the time to make an issue of it.

Untold Stories by Alan Bennett | Waterstones

The Madness of King George (screenplay from his play The Madness of George III and cameo appearance), 1995 Obviously, I thought, we have strayed into the wrong ward, much as Elizabeth Taylor did in the film of Suddenly Last Summer. Mam was not ill like this. She had nothing to do with the distracted creature who sat by the nearest bed, her gown hitched high above her knees, banging her spoon on a tray. But as I turned to go I saw that Dad was walking on down the ward. Leonard Bernstein / Carol Burnett / Rex Harrison / The National Theatre Company of Great Britain / The Negro Ensemble Company (1969) Naturally, the book includes a great deal about the theatre, actors and directors, but one of its more surprising aspects is the amount of writing about paintings. Bennett was made a trustee of the National Gallery in 1993, an inspiration on someone's part. It is hard to imagine anyone getting more pure pleasure out of the trustee's privilege of wandering around the gallery after hours.At some point when he was still a boy Dad took it into his head to learn the violin. Why he chose an instrument that in its initial stages is so unrewarding I don’t know; it’s one of the many questions I never got round to asking him. He got no help at home, where he could only practise in the freezing parlour, the Gimmer too mean even to let him have any light, so that he had to manage with what there was from the gas lamp in the street outside. Whether he was born with perfect pitch I don’t know, but in later life he would play along to the hymns on the wireless, telling you the notes of the tune he was accompanying as easily as if he was spelling a word. In happier circumstances he would have been a professional violinist but there was never any hope of that and a butcher he remained, working first for the Co-op then, in 1946, buying a shop of his own, which he had to sell ten years later because of ill-health, then buying a smaller one and the same thing happening. Having made no money and the job having given him precious little satisfaction, he was never so happy as when in 1966 he was able to abandon butchering for good. Bennett has spent his life observing, and much of the writing in this book describes places. It is cityscapes that interest him most, with people moving about in them; characteristically, he objects to WG Sebald's habit of emptying his landscapes of human presence. But his observations - the precise colour and texture of sooty walls in Leeds, for example, or the evening light - have the peculiarly hungry texture of the condemned man's final look at the sky. In most of these essays and diary entries he was quite evidently looking at everything he saw, thinking he might well be seeing it for the last time. At the end [John Gielgud] was given a round of applause by cast and crew, which I felt had not much to do with the quality of the speech so much as his having stayed alive long enough to deliver it". The shame of this second bankruptcy drove the family to Leeds, where they lived in Wortley, Grandad Peel now managing a gents outfitters in Wellington Road. The three sisters, Kathleen, Lilian and Lemira, and their elder brother Clarence all went to Green Lane School, its gaunt hulk one of the few buildings still undemolished in 1966, rearing up among the new houses, dinky as houses in Monopoly, that were beginning to cover the slopes below Armley Jail; the school, the jail and St Bartholomew’s Church, relics of a thriving neighbourhood, the pillars of a sometime community. Ocr tesseract 5.3.0-3-g9920 Ocr_detected_lang en Ocr_detected_lang_conf 1.0000 Ocr_detected_script Latin Ocr_detected_script_conf 0.9948 Ocr_module_version 0.0.21 Ocr_parameters -l eng Openlibrary_edition

Untold Stories : Alan Bennett : Free Download, Borrow, and Untold Stories : Alan Bennett : Free Download, Borrow, and

Alone in the house, knowing no one in the village well enough to call on them for help, he was both nurse and jailer. Coaxing his weeping parody of a wife to eat, with every mouthful a struggle, then smuggling himself out of the house to do some hasty shopping, hoping that she would not come running down the street after him, he spent every day and every fitful night besieged by Mam’s persistent assaults on reality, foiling her attempts to switch off the television, turn off the lights or pull the curtains against her imaginary enemies, knowing that if he once let her out of his sight she would be at the front door trying to flee this house which was at the same time her prison and her refuge. Then the book lurches into an interminable section of diaries. Friends who read it all tell me there is some good stuff in there, but there was just too much. Yes, I know Bennett is a master at making the banal fun, but there's a limit. Hire an editor, Alan. Faber & Faber was founded nearly a century ago, in 1929. Read about our long publishing history in a decade-by-decade account. Birthday boy" – Blake Morrison salutes Alan Bennett as the writer approaches his 75th birthday The Guardian, 7 May 2009Yet there were others who seemed entirely at ease in these surroundings, elderly sons of vacant mothers, jovial husbands of demented wives, and some whose faces were more coarse and void than those of the patients they were visiting. They sat round the bed in bovine indifference, chatting across the lost creature in their midst as if the lunacy of a loved one was no more than was to be expected. The drowning, though, straightaway shed light on an incident early on in my mother’s depression which at the time I’d thought almost a joke. Dad had gone out and we were alone in the house. Motioning me into the passage where we would not be over-heard, she again whispered that she had done something terrible. I was having none of it, but she got hold of my arm, pulled me up the stairs and pointed to the bathroom, though she would not go in. There were six inches of water in the bath. Your Mam’ll be better when I’ve got the place straight,’ he said. ‘She can’t do with it being all upset.’ So, while she sat fearfully on a hard chair in the passage, he got down to the decorating.

Untold Stories by Alan Bennett | Goodreads Untold Stories by Alan Bennett | Goodreads

I am an Allan Bennett fan so when I came across these I was only to happy,,listening to this audiobook is a great medium to here stories.Ferguson, Euan (31 May 2014). "The Complainers; The Story of Women and Art; Harry and Paul's Story of the Twos – review". The Guardian. I was so surprised by how much I enjoyed this book. I didn't know much about Alan Bennet before but found his story very interesting and beautifully written. Some of the detail on art was a bit dry but I skipped those bits. How long depressions lasted no doctor was prepared to say, nor anyone else that I talked to. There seemed to be no timetable, this want of a timetable almost a definition of the disease. It might be months, but one of the books I looked into talked about years, though what all the authorities did seem agreed on was that, treated or not, depression cleared up in time. One school of thought held that the depression should be allowed to run its course unalleviated and unaccelerated by drugs. But on my mother drugs seemed to have no effect anyway, and if the depression were to run its course and it did take years, many months even, what would happen to my father? There was no question that Mam’s liking for these ancient objets trouvés was entirely genuine, but in acquiring them she was also laying claim to a sort of refinement. It was hard to say where it came from; women’s magazines possibly, and in particular Beverly Nichols’s column in Woman’s Own. Some of it was instinctive, if not inbred. She knew, for instance, without having read it anywhere, that the old-fashioned kitchen range that we had was preferable, had more ‘character’ than the tiled fireplaces everybody round about thought were the height of sophistication, and that the brass pot which held our fire-irons was superior to the ceramic knights in armour wielding poker and tongs that were taking up their post on neighbouring hearthstones.

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