Cold Comfort Farm
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? Quite simply one of the funniest satirical novels of the last century.?
?Nancy Pearl, NPR's "Morning Edition"
THE DELIRIOUSLY ENTERTAINING "Cold Comfort Farm" is ?very probably the funniest book ever written? ("The Sunday Times," London)?a hilarious parody of D. H. Lawrence's and Thomas Hardy's earthy, melodramatic novels. When the recently orphaned socialite Flora Poste descends on her relatives at the aptly named Cold Comfort Farm in deepest Sussex, she finds a singularly miserable group in dire need of her particular talent? organization.
tortured ferment of spring growth; worm jarred with worm and seed with seed. Frond leapt on root and hare on hare. Beetle and finch-fly were not spared. The trout-sperm in the muddy hollow under Nettle Flitch Weir were agitated, and well they might be. The long screams of the hunting owls tore across the night, scarlet lines on black. In the pauses, every ten minutes, they mated. It seemed chaotic, but it was more methodically arranged than you might think. But Adam’s deafness and blindness came
’tweren’t no good. Her couldn’t.’ ‘Wouldn’t the spirit work or something?’ ‘Nay, it worked. But I wouldn’t have it. I reckoned the Lord’s ways is dark and there’d been a mistake, and the spirit that was meant for me had fallen on Deborah. So I just struck her down wi’ the gurt old Bible, to let the devil out of her soul.’ ‘And did it come out?’ asked Flora, endeavouring with some effort to maintain the proper spirit of scientific enquiry. ‘Ay, he came out. We heard no more o’ Deborah’s tryin’
man’s eternal blind attack and woman’s inevitable yielding and loss. Flora had experienced some distaste, but her wish to tidy up Cold Comfort had compelled her to pursue her enquiries. She asked when the young people were to be married, knowing full well what the answer would be. Adam gave a loud and unaccustomed sound which she had with some difficulty interpreted as a mirthless laugh. ‘When apples grow on the sukebind ye may see lust buy hissen a wedding garment,’ he had replied, meaningly.
thoughtfulness, and picked his sister up and strode off with her across the yard. He made a second journey for Flora, and she hardly had time to decide whether or not he was holding her unnecessarily tightly when she found herself safely popped into the car, and squeezing the outstretched hands of Claud, with Elfine smiling prettily in the corner. ‘My dear, why all this Fall-of-the-House-of-Usher stuff?’ enquired Claud. ‘I mean, this is too good to be true. Where do we go from here?’ Seth was
bringing back to his cave. The miracle for which she had conjured the love god had befallen. Richard had realized, not that Elfine was beautiful, but that he loved Elfine. (Young men frequently need this fact pointing out to them, as Flora knew by observing the antics of her friends.) Now she must wait patiently until the end of the ball, when Elfine would tell her whether Richard had proposed marriage. She felt that the anxiety of waiting to know whether her diplomacy had succeeded might