“ Six months after the death of Mrs Yabsley, Ada and Mrs Herring sat in the back parlour of the Angel sipping brandy. They had drunk their fill and it was time to be going, but Ada had no desire to move. She tapped her foot gently as she listened to the other woman's ceaseless flow of talk, but her mind was elsewhere. She had reached the stage when the world seemed a delightful place to live in; when it was a pleasure to watch the people moving and gesticulating like figures in a play, without jar or fret, as machines move on well-oiled cogs. ”
Louis Stone
Biographical details
Louis Stone, an English author renowned for his vivid social realism, is best known for his novel Jonah, a narrative steeped in the intricacies of working-class life. His prose captures the rhythms of daily existence through richly drawn characters and settings, blending observational detail with a theatrical flair.
Themes of economic struggle, personal transformation, and the interplay between environment and identity pervade his work. Stone’s affinity for commonplace yet evocative scenes, akin to those found in the works of Henry Mayhew and H. V. Morton, positions him as a chronicler of lived experience, where the ordinary becomes extraordinary through precise, almost anthropological attention to detail.
Quotes by Louis Stone
“ The cares of the shop had told on Pinkey's looks, for the last two years spent with Chook's mother had been like a long honeymoon, and Pinkey had led the life of a lady, with nothing to do but scrub and wash and help Chook's mother keep her house like a new pin. So she had grown plump and pert like a well-fed sparrow, but the care and worry of the new shop had sharpened the angles of her body. Not that Pinkey cared. She had the instinct for property, the passionate desire to call something her own, an instinct that lay dormant and undeveloped while she lived among other people's belongings. ”
“ Dad Grimes was a man of fifty, wearing a frock coat that showed a faint green where the light fell on the shoulders, and a tall silk hat that had grown old with the wearer. But for his nose he might have been an undertaker. It was an impossible nose, the shape and size of a potato, and the colour of pickled cabbage--the nose for a clown in the Carnival of Venice. Its marvellous shape was none of Dad's choosing, but the colour was his own, laid on by years of patient drinking as a man colours a favourite pipe. ”
