Questions to be answered in your text interpretation:

Questions to be answered in your text interpretation:

1) Composition: define the composition of the text. Explain the function and role of each compositional part. Find elements of foreshadowing in the text.
2) Character drawing: what do we learn about Mr. Nilson (and Mr. Tandram) from indirect portrayal? What is implied rather than presented directly? Consider behavior, flow of thoughts.
3) Tone and atmosphere: give examples of the manner of writing. Is it formal? Matter of fact? Emotional? Dramatic? What atmosphere is created throughout the story? Do our feelings change from the beginning to the end of the story?
4) Point of view: where is the narrator of the story placed, inside or outside of the story? Prove your position. Is the point of view shifting? Give examples.
5) Mode of presentation: which modes of presentation are used, what is the significance of description, narrative, dialogue, inner monologue.
6) How does the plot promote the primary theme of the story?
7) What messages do you see in the story? How are they revealed?

J. Galsworthy THE JAPANESE QUINCE

Since its first publication in 1910 in the collection A MOTLEY, John Galsworthy's THE JAPANESE QUINCE has been popular with readers for its richly suggestive, yet subdued, narrative. The story recounts an episode from the life of Mr. Nilson, who is momentarily diverted by the sights, sounds, and smells of an early spring morning. Seized by the beauty of the natural world, Mr. Nilson is briefly lifted out of his highly regimented, well-ordered life. Born to wealth and having lived his entire life in the Victorian English world of the upper middle class, Galsworthy wrote about what he knew. The hollow lives of his patrician characters provide the matrix for the primary pathos of his work. He once stated that "The Japanese Quince" was his attempt to "produce in the reader the sort of uneasy feeling that now and then we run up against ourselves." Like much of Galsworthy's fiction, this story has been commended for its complex insights into the ambivalence of human nature, and for its glimpse into a world that reveals its shortcomings while suggesting the possibilities for its redemption.

Read the story. Answer the questions at the end.

As Mr. Nilson, well known in the City, opened the window of his dressing room on Campden Hill, he experienced a peculiar sweetish sensation in the back of his throat, and a feeling of emptiness under his fifth rib. Hooking the window back, he noticed that a little tree in the Square Gardens had come out in blossom, and that the thermometer stood at sixty. “Perfect morning,” he thought; “spring at last!”

Resuming his meditations on the price of Tintos, he took up an ivory-backed handglass and scrutinized his face. His firm, well-colored cheeks, with their neat brown mustaches, and his round, well-opened, clear grey eyes, wore a reassuring appearance of good health. Putting on his black frock coat, he went downstairs.

In the dining room his morning paper was laid out on the sideboard. Mr. Nilson had scarcely taken it in his hand when he again became aware of that queer feeling. Somewhat concerned, he went to the French window and descended the scrolled iron steps into the fresh air. A cuckoo clock struck eight.

“Half an hour to breakfast,” he thought; “I’ll take a turn in the Gardens.”

He had them to himself, and proceeded to pace the circular path with his morning paper clasped behind him. He had scarcely made two revolutions, however, when it was borne in on him that, instead of going away in the fresh air, the feeling had increased. He drew several deep breaths, having heard deep breathing recommended by his wife’s doctor; but they augmented rather than diminished the sensation – as of some sweetish liquor in course within him, together with a faint aching just above his heart. Running over what he had eaten the night before, he could recollect no unusual dish, and it occurred to him that it might possibly be some smell affecting him. But he could detect nothing except a faint sweet lemony scent, rather agreeable than otherwise, which evidently emanated from the bushes budding in the sunshine. He was on the point of resuming his promenade, when a blackbird close by burst into a song, and, looking up, Mr. Nilson saw at a distance of perhaps five yards a little tree, in the heart of whose branches the bird was perched. He stood staring curiously at this tree, recognizing it for that which he had noticed from his window. It was covered with young blossoms, pink and white, and little bright green leaves both round and spiky; and on all this blossom and these leaves the sunlight glistened. Mr. Nilson smiled; the little tree was so alive and pretty! And instead of passing on, he stayed there smiling at the tree.

“Morning like this!” he thought; “and here I am the only person in the Square who has the – to come out and –!” But he had no sooner conceived this thought than he saw quite near him a man with his hands behind him, who was also staring up and smiling at the little tree. Rather taken aback, Mr. Nilson ceased to smile, and looked furtively at the stranger. It was his next-door neighbour, Mr. Tandram, well known in the City, who had occupied the adjoining house for some five years. Mr. Nilson perceived at once the awkwardness of his position, for, being married, they had not yet had occasion to speak to one another. Doubtful as to his proper conduct, he decided at last to murmur: “Fine morning!” and was passing on, when Mr. Tandram answered: “Beautiful, for the time of year!” Detecting a slight nervousness in his neighbour’s voice, Mr. Nilson was emboldened to regard him openly. He was of about Mr. Nilson’s own height, with firm, well-colored cheeks, neat brown mustaches, and round, well-opened, clear grey eyes; and he was wearing a black frock coat. Mr. Nilson noticed that he had his morning paper clasped behind him as he looked up at the little tree. And, visited somehow by the feeling that he had been caught out, he said abruptly:

“Er – can you give me the name of that tree?” Mr. Tandram answered:

“I was about to ask you that,” and stepped towards it. Mr. Nilson also approached the tree.

“Sure to have its name on, I should think,” he said. Mr. Tandram was the first to see the little label, close to where the blackbird had been sitting. He read it out. “Japanese quince!”

“Ah!” said Mr. Nilson, “thought so. Early flowers.” “Very,” assented Mr. Tandram, and added: “Quite a feelin’ in the air today.”

Mr. Nilson nodded. “It was a blackbird singin’,” he said.

“Blackbirds,” answered Mr. Tandram. “I prefer them to thrushes myself; more body in the note.” And he looked at Mr. Nilson in an almost friendly way.

“Quite,” murmured Mr. Nilson. “These exotics, they don’t bear fruit. Pretty blossoms!” and he again glanced up at the blossom, thinking: “Nice fellow, this, I rather like him.”

Mr. Tandram also gazed at the blossom. And the little tree, as if appreciating their attention, quivered and glowed. From a distance the blackbird gave a loud, clear call. Mr. Nilson dropped his eyes. It struck him suddenly that Mr. Tandram looked a little foolish; and, as if he had seen himself, he said: “I must be going in. Good morning!”

A shade passed over Mr. Tandram’s face as if he, too, had suddenly noticed something about Mr. Nilson.

“Good morning,” he replied, and clasping their journals to their backs they separated.

Mr. Nilson retracted his steps towards his garden window, walking slowly so as to avoid arriving at the same time as his neighbour. Having seen Mr. Tandram mount his scrolled iron steps, he ascended his own in turn. On the top step he paused.

Within the slanting spring sunlight darting and quivering into it, the Japanese quince seemed more living than a tree. The blackbird returned to it, and was chanting out his heart.

Mr. Nilson sighed; again he felt that queer sensation, that choky feeling in his throat.

The sound of a cough or sigh attracted his attention. There, in the shadow of his French window, stood Mr. Tandram, also looking forth across the Gardens at the little quince tree.

Unaccountably upset, Mr. Nilson turned abruptly into the house, and opened his morning paper.

Как Г-Н Нильсон, известная в городе, открыл окно из своей гримерки на Кемпден-Хилл, он испытал своеобразный сладковатый ощущение в горле, и ощущение пустоты под пятое ребро. Зацепив окно обратно, он заметил, что маленькая елка на площади садов вышли в цвету, и, чтобы столбик термометра стоял на шестьдесят. “Идеальное утро”, - подумал он; “весна наконец-то!”
Возобновление его размышления о цене Tintos, он взял из слоновой кости покрытием handglass и разглядывал его лицо. Его фирма, хорошо окрашивается щеки, с их аккуратными коричневыми усами, и его круглые, хорошо раскрытые, ясные серые глаза, носил обнадеживает появление крепкого здоровья. Надев свой черный сюртук, он спустился вниз.
В столовой его утренней газете лежал на буфете. Г-н Нильсон едва взял его в руку, когда он снова осознал, что странное чувство. Несколько обеспокоенный, он подошел к французскому окну и спустился по железным ступенькам прокручивается на свежий воздух. Часы с кукушкой пробили восемь.
“За полчаса до завтрака, - думал он, - я возьму свою очередь в сады.”
Он их сам себе, и принялся вышагивать по круговой траектории с его утренней газете, заложив за ним. Едва он сделал два оборота, однако, когда его несли к нему, что, вместо того, чтобы идти от отеля на свежем воздухе, чувство увеличилось. Он нарисовал несколько глубоких вдохов, услышав глубокое дыхание, рекомендованный жены доктор; но они дополненной не ослабил, а ощущение - как некоторых сладковатый ликер в ход в него, вместе со слабым болит чуть выше его сердца. Работает над тем, что он ел накануне вечером, он не смог вспомнить никаких необычное блюдо, и ему пришло в голову, что это может быть какой-нибудь запах, влияющие на него. Но он мог обнаружить ничего, кроме слабым сладковато-лимонный запах, скорее приятный, чем иначе, что очевидно, исходила из кустов бутонизации в лучах солнца. Он был на грани возобновления его набережной, когда черный Дрозд неподалеку разразился песней, и, глядя вверх, мистер Нильсон увидел на расстоянии пяти ярдов, возможно, немного дерева, в центре которого ветки птица примостилась. Он стоял, с любопытством глядя на это дерево, признавая его за то, что он заметил из своего окна. Она была покрыта молодой цветов, розовые и белые, маленькие и ярко-зелеными листьями оба круглые и колючие; и на все это цветение и эти листья в солнечном свете блестели. Г-н Нильсон улыбнулся; деревцо было так живо и красиво! И вместо пас на, он остался там улыбается на дерево.
“Утро!” - подумал он; “и вот я единственный человек в сквере у кого - выйти и -!” Но не успел он задумал эту мысль, чем он увидел совсем рядом с ним мужик с руками за спиной, который тоже глядя вверх и улыбаясь маленьким деревцем. Скорее озадачен, г-н Нильсон перестала улыбаться, и украдкой смотрели на незнакомца. Это был его сосед, мистер Tandram, хорошо известен в городе, который был оккупирован соседнем доме около пяти лет. Г-н Нильсон воспринимается сразу на неловкость своего положения, ибо, будучи в браке, они еще не имели случая поговорить друг с другом. Сомнительно также его надлежащее поведение, он решил наконец-то роптать: “прекрасное утро!” и проходил мимо, когда г-н Tandram ответил: “красивая, для данного времени года!” Обнаруживая небольшая нервозность в его голосе соседа, г-н Нильсон был расположит отношении него открыто. Он был около г-н Нильсон собственного роста, с твердыми, хорошо окрашивается щеки, аккуратные коричневые усы, и круглая, хорошо раскрытые, ясные серые глаза; и он был одет в черный сюртук. Г-н Нильсон заметил, что он держал утреннюю газету, заложив за него, когда он взглянул на маленькое дерево. И, посетил как-то ощущение, что он был пойман, он сказал резко:
“Эр - можете ли вы дать мне название этого дерева?” Г-н Tandram ответил:
“Я собирался спросить вас о том, что” и шагнул к ней. Господин Нильсон тоже подошел к дереву.
“Уверен, что его имя, я должен подумать, - сказал он. Г-н Tandram был первым, чтобы увидеть маленькую этикетку, где черный Дрозд сидел. Он прочитал его. “Японская айва!”
“Ах!” сказал г-н Нильсон, - так я и думал. Ранние цветы.” “Очень, - подтвердил г-н Tandram, и добавил: “вполне себя чувствуешь в воздухе сегодня.”
Г-н Нильсон кивнул. “Это был черный Дрозд поет, - сказал он.
“Дроздов, - ответил г-н Tandram. “Я предпочитаю им дрозды себя; больше тела в записке.” И он посмотрел на Г-Н Нильсон в почти дружески.
“Довольно, - пробормотал мистер Нильсон. “Эти экзоты, они не плодоносят. Красивые цветы!” и он снова взглянул на цветение, думая: “хороший парень, этот, мне очень понравился его.”
Г-н Tandram также смотрел на цветок. И деревцо, как бы оценивая их внимание, дрожал и светился. Издали черный Дрозд дал громкий, четкий призыв. Г-н Нильсон опустил глаза. Его поразило вдруг, что Г-Н Tandram выглядел немного глупо; и, как если бы он видел себя, он сказал: “я должен идти в. Доброе утро!”
Тень набежала г-н Tandram лицо, как будто он тоже вдруг заметил кое-что О Г-Н Нильсон.
- Доброе утро, - ответил он, и обхватив их журналы, чтобы их спинами они расстались.
Г-н Нильсон отказался от своих шагов в направлении его сад окно, медленно ступая так, чтобы избегать прибывающих в то же время, что и его сосед. Увидев г-на Tandram смонтировать его прокручивать железным ступенькам, он взошел на свою собственную, в свою очередь. На верхней ступеньке он остановился.
В косом солнечном свете весны наметывание и трепещет в него, японской айвы казалась более живой, чем дерево. Дрозд вернулся к ней, и стал скандировать его сердце.
Г-н Нильсон вздохнул; снова он почувствовал, что странное ощущение, что choky ощущение в горле.
Звук кашля или вздох привлек его внимание. Там, в тени его французское окно, стоял мистер Tandram, также глядя вперед через сады отеля Little айвой.
Безотчетно расстроен, мистер Нильсон резко повернулся в дом, и открыл утреннюю газету.

Questions on comprehension:

1. Although we are given only a brief glimpse of Mr. Nilson’s life, there are many clues as to what the whole of his life is like. What kind of house and district does he live in? To what social class does he belong? What kind of existence does he lead? What clues enable us to answer these questions?

2. Mr. Nilson at first thinks something is wrong with his health. What really is troubling him? How do the terms in which his symptoms are described (paragraphs 1 and 5) help to define his “ailment”?

3. In what ways might Mr. Nilson’s fragmentary sentence at the beginning of paragraph 6 be completed? Why doesn’t Mr. Nilson complete it?

4. How are Mr. Nilson and Mr. Tandram alike in appearance, manner, and situation? Of what significance are these similarities?

Questions for discussion:

1. Mr. Nilson’s meeting Mr. Tandram at the tree might be described as a coincidence. Is it pure coincidence or does it have antecedent causes? Is it a legitimate device in terms of the story? Why or why not?

2. The quince tree is a symbol. What qualities or ideas does it seem to you to represent?

3. Although this story contains little action, it dramatizes a significant conflict. What are the opposed forces? How can the conflict be stated in terms of protagonist and antagonist? Is the conflict external or internal? How is it resolved – that is, which force wins?

4. The story demonstrates how a very slight plot may be used to provide a considerable illumination of life. How would you describe, in a couple of sentences, the purpose and message of the story?

Tasks for written analysis:

1. Comment briefly on Mr. Nilson’s reaction to the quince tree. Is “The Japanese Quince” an appropriate title for this story? Why?

2. Similarities of Mr. Nilson and Mr. Tandram: how are they brought out and what ideas this portrayal emphasizes?

3. Comment on Mr. Nilson’s “problem”. What ways of revealing the problem does the author use?

4. Comment upon the composition of the story: how are the theme and the composition interrelated? How is the theme of the story developed by the compositional dynamics?

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