Patrick OâBrian
more from Post Captain
A great joy in reading OâBrian is what he can create in a short narrative. Here establishing another aspect of Maturinâs character, who has borrowed a beautiful set of pistols for a duel. Heâs on a âmild horseâ moving towards dunes on a seashore. Heâs reflecting on his experiencing. Aubrey does not reflect. Â
âThere are days - good evening to you, sirâ - a parson went by walking with his cat, the smoke from his pipe keeping him company as he walked - âthere are days,â he reflected, âwhen one sees as though one had been blind the rest of oneâs life. Such clarity - perfection in everything, not merely in the extraordinary. One lives in the very present moment; lives intently. There is no urge to be doing; being is the highest good. However.â he said, guiding the horse left-handed into the dunes, âdoing of some kind there must be.ââ
the parson walking by with his cat, âthe smoke from his pipe keeping him company.â Â
âguiding his horse left-handed into the dunesâ If language is inadequate, itâs not the fault of OâBrian
...
   ââI have never know such consistently accurate weapons.â he said aloud. âI wonder, can I still do Dillonâs old trick?â He took a coin from his pocket, tossed it high, and shot it fair and square on the the top of the rise, between climbing and falling. âCharming instruments indeed: I must cover them from the dew.â The sun had set; the light had so far diminished that the red tongue of flame lit up the mist hollow at each discharge...â
He is about to go into a duel with his close friend over a woman Maturin loves.Â
â.. he turned to his diary. âThis is perhaps the final detachment; and this is perhaps the only way to live - free, surprising light and well, no diminution of interest but no commitment: a liberty I have early ever know. Life in its purest form - admirable in every way, only for the fact that it is not living, as I have ever understood the word. How it changes the nature of time! The minutes and the course stretch out; there is leisure to see the movement of the present. I shall walk out beyond Walmer Castle, by way of the sand-dunes: there is a wilderness of time in that arenaceous world.ââÂ












