Shem-el-Nessim: An inspiration in perfume
PART TWOEvery now and then in winter, London briefly anticipates spring with an unseasonably long spell of sunlight; a patch of clear blue between the clouds; a brightening of the otherwise pale skies; and a fragrance of mown grass from the parks. On such mornings, Stan Tooprig would walk from York Street to Jermyn Street because three times a week, at eight o’clock, he had an appointment at Klinge & Schneider, the barbershop renowned for the closest shave in London. Read on...
Read Part One of Shem-el-Nessim here.
posted by Chris Bell at 12:00 AM
7 Comments:
The man is a time-traveller. No other explanation of the 1920s period detail. But "timbered respite"?
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There's no reason why a respite couldn't be timbered, anonymous, whether in the 1920s or at any other time. Never heard of a transferred epithet?
Thought you would say that. Great story though.
Transferred epithets are not to your taste; you disagree that "darkly timbered respite" is one; or you don't care for this instance?
Thanks for commenting, though.
I was instructed to steer clear of transferred epithets except in poetry. I guess the reason is that a poetry reader expects to savour and analyse the writing line-by-line whereas a story reader prefers the narrative to flow uninterrupted by "what's this" phrases. That example did not work for me as it might for a literary sophisticate. Cheers.
I love those "What's this?!" moments: discovering slightly different ways of saying ordinary things and being interrupted in my hurry to get to the end... Of course, sometimes one overdoes it. I promise not to transfer any more epithets in this story, anonymous. Thanks for reading.
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