"Ian Watson - Early, In The Evening" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watson Ian)

Early, in the Evening
a short story by Ian Watson

Foreword

"Early, in the Evening" was published in the April 1996 issue of Asimov's
Science Fiction. It's a story which occurred to me all of a sudden when a
friend said to me, "So I'll see you early evening, then," and I thought to
myself: but the evening isn't early, it's fairly late on in the day.
Stories quite often occur to me this way, ordinary reality turning inside
out and upside down, then I let the story tell itself, taking off into
whatever far region it chooses, in this case the whole history of the
world and human evolution reversed within less than 3000 words, but with a
sense of place and characters (I hope). In Consciousness Explained
(consciousness being a bit of an obsession of mine) Daniel Dennett
suggests that we are all fictional characters, telling ourselves an
ongoing narrative which constructs our life and establishes who we are.
Our existence depends on the persistence of narrative. Consciousness is
the product, not the source, of stories. Furthermore, words fight it out
within us for a chance of expression. We do not so much choose our words;
within contextual constraints the words choose themselves. So, far from
being something non-essential -- mere entertainment -- the creation and
consumption of stories is rooted deep in our very existence and
consciousness. In "Early, in the Evening" that consciousness is
progressively lost as our story un-tells itself.
This is all rationalisation after the event. The story came first, and
told itself to me as the characters and ideas deployed themselves, each
giving rise to the other. And maybe the story has a different meaning.
Maybe it muses about death.
Nor did I quite intend, when I started writing these words, that this
would be what I would say about the story.

Early, in the Evening

Even early in the morning St Thomas's Church consisted of a nave and
chancel. However, Father Hopkins waited until almost noon before
delivering his Snowdrop Sermon. By then the church had undergone numerous
extensions and renovations. A south aisle had been added, followed by a
north aisle. The chancel had been rebuilt. Then a tower had arisen --
otherwise how could Hopkins have rung a bell to summon his flock? North
doorway and chancel arch were remodelled. A south porch was added. Windows
became larger as the sun rose higher. Buttresses strengthened the walls.
A substantial setting for his sermon!
From the pulpit Hopkins proclaimed to his congregation: "Snowdrops push up
spears through iron soil. They enter a world which is, as yet, so scantily
populated. There's so much free space wherein to be the first to flower,
thus the first to die.
"What does the snowdrop know of the riot of Summer?" he preached. "What
does it know of the subsequent heat? Would that hot riot of the mid-months
be a snowdrop's idea of hell? Or does the snowdrop inhabit an eternally