Yesterday's answer
This is the quote which was on our Facebook page yesterday:
"It occurred to Jessie, feeling the freshness of the hills and the cicadas singing, that it would be about as good a summer as they'd ever had on the Coast."
It is the last line of a novel called Coal Flat written by New Zealand author Bill Pearson. I highly recommend this book. If you haven't read it, you should. It is beautifully written and is a superb portrait of a small town on the West Coast in 1940s/1950s' New Zealand.
I know we've been featuring a lot of relatively 'old' NZ writers - that's because they are all very good ones - but keep in mind the huge array of current New Zealand writers (ie living and writing now) and bring your mental list into the shop. Think of Fiona Kidman, Emma Neale, Vincent O'Sullivan, Vanda Symon, Laurence Fearnley, Jenny Pattrick, to name but a few. See you at the NZ literature section.
Last of the last lines
I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined place; and, as the morning mists had risen long ago when I first left the forge, so, the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another parting from her."
There's a bit of a hint in the pictures you can see here.
Don't forget to take the New Zealand literature last line challenge on our Facebook page again today. It's a great way to find out about a few books which are well worth reading if you're not au fait with NZ literature.
Answer:
Charles Dickens / Great Expectations
Answer to yesterday's quote
The last line from yesterday's Facebook page challenge:
"No searchlights shone on me, no megaphone warnings were shouted, no machine-guns sprayed me, no police-dogs growled, no truncheons whacked me. I marked through the blazing city. It was rather good to be alive. In 1965, that is."
It came from a book called A Friend of the Family by a famous New Zealand writer called David Ballantyne.
Good book. Come in and get a copy.
Continuing famous last lines
The little quiz on guessing a book title from its last line is carrying on for one more week so if you haven't been participating before today, you can warm up by having a go at all the items from last week. You can also go on our Facebook page and have a look at the quiz there which is to do with last lines from New Zealand literature only.
1. ...or start upright in bed, with the sharp voice of Captain Flint still ringing in my ears: "Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!'
2. Oh, father," said Eppie, "what a pretty home ours is. I think nobody could be happier than we are.
3."He turned out the light and went into Jem's room. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.
The picture shows MK Joseph's book I'll Soldier No More. The last line on our Facebook page quiz on Friday was from that New Zealand novel.
Answers:
Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
Silas Marner by George Eliot
To Kill a Mocking Bird by Harper Lee
Guess the last line continued
Continuing our last line challenge, we have another selection for you to wrack (or rack) your brains over:
"Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf, a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed..
He was withered, wrinkled, and loathsome of visage. It was not till they had examined the rings that they recognised who it was.
"The horror! The horror!... Exterminate all the brutes! It seemed appropriate, if not entirely just.. but after getting suh a concentrated jolt of reality I was not much concerned about justice.
Those of you who looked on our Facebook page yesterday would have seen the last line quoted there. It came from New Zealand author Catherine Chidgey's book In a Fishbone Church
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Hell's Angels by Hunter S Thompson
More famous last lines
Continuing yesterday's theme, here are a few more famous last lines to puzzle over (before checking the answers at the end).
“Tomorrow, I’ll think of some way to get him back. After all, tomorrow is another day.”
“He loved Big Brother.”
“. . . and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.”
If you had a look on our Facebook page, you would have seen a fantastic last line from a very famous New Zealand novel called A Gun in My Hand by Gordon Slatter.
Answers to above
Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind
George Orwell, 1984
James Joyce, Ulysses
Famous last lines
You may have participated in our recent competition of name a book from its first line. Now we are doing the same with some very famous last lines. We will list a few here with answers given at the end (so no peeking). If you enjoy this sort of challenge, then also go to our Facebook page and try the daily closing line there - a bit more difficult than the ones here because they will all be from New Zealand literature. However, try these ones meanwhile:
"It is a far far better thing that I do than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
"The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which."
And the quote which is on our Facebook page is "The Gun is in my hand and the rounds are ready for loading and I wish I had the guts to do it."
Answers:
Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities
Scott Fitzgerald Great Gatsby
George Orwell Animal Farm
Budding writers
We have an essay by Lorrie Moore titled How to Become a Writer.
She starts off like this, "First, try to be something, anything, else."
That's good advice but the best advice probably comes from Charles Bukowski
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.
when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.
there is no other way.
and there never was
