London, December 1915. In the master bedroom (never was the estate agent's epithet more appropriate) of Flat 21, Carlyle Mansions, Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, the distinguished author is dying - slowly, but surely. In Flanders, less than two hundred miles away, other men are dying more quickly, more painfully, more pitifully - young men, mostly, with their lives still before them, blank pages that will never be filled. The author is seventy-two. He has had an interesting and varied life, written many books, travelled widely, enjoyed the arts, moved in society (one winter he dined out 107 times), and owns a charming old house in Rye as well as the lease of this spacious London flat with its fine view of the Thames. He has had deeply rewarding friendships with both men and women. If he has never experienced sexual intercourse, that was by his own choice, unlike the many young men in Flanders who died virgins either for lack of opportunity or because they hoped to marry and were keeping themselves chaste on principle. .David Lodge
About This Quote
In December 1915, England was at war with Germany. At the time, the author was a young man in his early twenties. He had been a student at Oxford and had been relatively well-off for a few years. After a few years of marriage to a woman he did not love, he left her and began what would be a very busy and eventful life as a writer. The author is speaking of the end of his life in December 1915, when he was seventy-two years old.
He then shares that there were many young men dying in Flanders in 1915 who would never know the pleasures of sex in their lives. It is clear that this author has experienced great loss in his life, including the loss of both parents when he was only ten years old.
Source: Author, Author
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