It ascribes the extraordinary occurrences in nature to the influency of invisible beings, and supposes the thunder, the jurricane, and the earthquake, to be the immediate effect of their agency.
It would be foolish to overthink the similarities between Edward St. Aubyn and Patrick Melrose, the protagonist of his celebrated series of five wrenchingly sad, laceratingly witty novels. Certainly there are parallels — both come from aristocratic privilege, both had horrific childhoods and horrific heroin addictions, both speak in hyperfluent prose — but they go only so far.
It was a beautiful day. At Brinsley pit the white steam melted slowly in the sunshine of a soft blue sky; the wheels of the headstocks twinkled high up; the screen, shuffling its coal into the trucks, made a busy noise.
All the signs are right this time / You don't have to try so very hard / If you live in this world / You're feelin' the change of the guard
