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Danse Macabre :: Кинг Стивен
Страница: 259 из 359And ironically enough, it is the superficial weakening of her faith which allows the devil a doorway into her life . . . but it is the immutable bedrock of that same faith that allows her to accept "Andy," horns and all.
This is Levin's handling of religious views in the microcosm-on the surface, Rosemary is a typical young modern who could have stepped whole and breathing from Wallace Stevens's poem "Sunday Morning"-the churchbells mean nothing to her as she sits peeling her oranges. But beneath, that parochial schoolgirl Rosemary Reilly is very much there.
His handling of the macrocosm is similar-just bigger.
At the dinner party the Castevets have for the Woodhouses, conversation turns to the impending visit of the Pope to New York. "I tried to keep [the book's] unbelievabilities believable," Levin remarks, "by incorporating bits of `real life' happenings along the way. I kept stacks of newspapers, and writing about a month or two after the fact, worked in events such as the transit strike and Lindsay's election as mayor. When, having decided for obvious reasons that the baby should be born on June 25th, I checked back to see what had been happening on the night Rosemary would have to conceive, you know what I found: the Pope's visit, and the Mass on television. Talk about serendipity! From then on I felt the book was Meant To Be.” The conversation between Guy Woodhouse and the Castevets concerning the Pope seems predictable, even banal, but it expresses the very view which Levin gently suggests is responsible for the whole thing: "I heard on TV that he's going to postpone and wait until (the newspaper strike) is over,” Mrs. Castevet said.
Guy smiled. "Well," he said, "that's show biz.” Mr. and Mrs. Castevet laughed, and Guy along with them. Rosemary smiled and cut her steak . . . . Still laughing, Mr. Castevet said, "It is , you know: That's just what it is: show biz!” "You can say that again," Guy said.
"The costumes, the rituals," Mr. Castevet said; "every religion, not only Catholicism.
Pageants for the ignorant.” Mrs. Castevet said, "I think we're offending Rosemary.” "No, not at all," Rosemary said.
"You aren't religious, my dear, are you?" Mr. Castevet asked.
"I was brought up to be," Rosemary said, "but now I'm an agnostic. I wasn't offended.
Really I wasn't.” We don't doubt the truth of Rosemary Woodhouse's statement, but underneath that surface there is a little parochial schoolgirl named Rosemary Reilly who is very offended, and who probably regards such talk as blasphemy.
This is Levin's handling of religious views in the microcosm-on the surface, Rosemary is a typical young modern who could have stepped whole and breathing from Wallace Stevens's poem "Sunday Morning"-the churchbells mean nothing to her as she sits peeling her oranges. But beneath, that parochial schoolgirl Rosemary Reilly is very much there.
His handling of the macrocosm is similar-just bigger.
At the dinner party the Castevets have for the Woodhouses, conversation turns to the impending visit of the Pope to New York. "I tried to keep [the book's] unbelievabilities believable," Levin remarks, "by incorporating bits of `real life' happenings along the way. I kept stacks of newspapers, and writing about a month or two after the fact, worked in events such as the transit strike and Lindsay's election as mayor. When, having decided for obvious reasons that the baby should be born on June 25th, I checked back to see what had been happening on the night Rosemary would have to conceive, you know what I found: the Pope's visit, and the Mass on television. Talk about serendipity! From then on I felt the book was Meant To Be.” The conversation between Guy Woodhouse and the Castevets concerning the Pope seems predictable, even banal, but it expresses the very view which Levin gently suggests is responsible for the whole thing: "I heard on TV that he's going to postpone and wait until (the newspaper strike) is over,” Mrs. Castevet said.
Guy smiled. "Well," he said, "that's show biz.” Mr. and Mrs. Castevet laughed, and Guy along with them. Rosemary smiled and cut her steak . . . . Still laughing, Mr. Castevet said, "It is , you know: That's just what it is: show biz!” "You can say that again," Guy said.
"The costumes, the rituals," Mr. Castevet said; "every religion, not only Catholicism.
Pageants for the ignorant.” Mrs. Castevet said, "I think we're offending Rosemary.” "No, not at all," Rosemary said.
"You aren't religious, my dear, are you?" Mr. Castevet asked.
"I was brought up to be," Rosemary said, "but now I'm an agnostic. I wasn't offended.
Really I wasn't.” We don't doubt the truth of Rosemary Woodhouse's statement, but underneath that surface there is a little parochial schoolgirl named Rosemary Reilly who is very offended, and who probably regards such talk as blasphemy.