ABSTRACT
Oh, how delightful it is to meet girls like Helen, how alive she is and how grateful one is to Mr. Huxley. All the road may be up in the little port and the loud speaker in the cafe may insist on delivering a talk on sociology, but one is on land again. On land and in a world of civilised people. As observation Mr. Huxley has written nothing better than his description of the Rev. Mr. Thursley waving his empty inkpot about in fury before saying grace. And Joan, his daughter, is extraordinarily good. Eyeless in Gaza is a delight, but on the whole the plan of popping about in time is a mistake. If the chronological method had been followed, I should have stopped reading at page 500 and have missed almost all the boring parts of the book; Anthony ends up with a new wisdom, part of which is to concentrate like a Yogi on the act of putting on his shoes because the means is of more value than the end. What a bore.
