A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute (English) Paperback Book

Description: A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute This classic novel is a heart-rending story of human fortitude set in the jungles of Malaya during the Japanese occupation, where a group of European women and children struggles to survive on a forced march. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description From the hugely acclaimed author of On the Beach—a tale of love and war that follows its enterprising heroine from the Malayan jungle during World War II to the rugged Australian outback. • "Entertaining ... Dramatic ... Shute is a natural and effective story-teller." —The New York TimesJean Paget, a young Englishwoman living in Malaya, is captured by the invading Japanese and forced on a brutal seven-month death march with dozens of other women and children. A few years after the war, Jean is back in England, the nightmare behind her. However, an unexpected inheritance inspires her to return to Malaya to give something back to the villagers who saved her life. But it turns out that they have a gift for her as well: the news that the young Australian soldier, Joe Harmon, who had risked his life to help the women, had miraculously survived. Jeans search for Joe leads her to a desolate Australian outpost called Willstown, where she finds a challenge that will draw on all the resourcefulness and spirit that carried her through her war-time ordeals. Author Biography NEVIL SHUTE NORWAY was born in 1899 in Ealing, London. He studied Engineering Science at Balliol College, Oxford. Following his childhood passion, he entered the fledgling aircraft industry as an aeronautical engineer working to develop airships and, later, airplanes. In his spare time he began writing and he published his first novel, Marazan, in 1926, using the name Nevil Shute to protect his engineering career. In 1931 he married Frances Mary Heaton and they had two daughters. During the Second World War he joined the Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve where he worked on developing secret weapons. After the war he continued to write and settled in Australia where he lived until his death in 1960. His most celebrated novels include Pied Piper (1942), A Town Like Alice (1950), and On the Beach (1957). Review "Entertaining. . . . Dramatic. . . . Shute is a natural and effective story-teller." —The New York Times"A ripping tale of budding romance and grace under pressure." —The Times (London)"A harrowing, exciting, and in the end very satisfying war romance." —Harpers Review Quote "Entertaining. . . . Dramatic. . . . Shute is a natural and effective story-teller." -The New York Times "A ripping tale of budding romance and grace under pressure." -The Times(London) "A harrowing, exciting, and in the end very satisfying war romance." -Harpers Excerpt from Book I James Macfadden died in March 1905 when he was forty-seven years old; he was riding in the Driffield Point-to-Point. He left the bulk of his money to his son Douglas. The Macfaddens and the Dalhousies at that time lived in Perth, and Douglas was a school friend of Jock Dalhousie, who was a young man then, and had gone to London to become junior partner in a firm of solicitors in Chancery Lane, Owen, Dalhousie, and Peters. I am now the senior partner, and Owen and Dalhousie and Peters have been dead for many years, but I never changed the name of the firm. It was natural that Douglas Macfadden should put his affairs into the hands of Jock Dalhousie, and Mr Dalhousie handled them personally till he died in 1928. In splitting up the work I took Mr Macfadden on to my list of clients, and forgot about him in the pressure of other matters. It was not until 1935 that any business for him came up. I had a letter from him then, from an address in Ayr. He said that his brother-in-law, Arthur Paget, had been killed in a motor car accident in Malaya and so he wanted to redraft his will to make a trust in favour of his sister Jean and her two children. I am sorry to say that I was so ignorant of this client that I did not even know he was unmarried and had no issue of his own. He finished up by saying that he was too unwell to travel down to London, and he suggested that perhaps a junior member of the firm might be sent up to see him and arrange the matter. This fitted in with my arrangements fairly well, because when I got this letter I was just leaving for a fortnights fishing holiday on Loch Shiel. I wrote and told him that I would visit him on my way south, and I put the file concerning his affairs in the bottom of my suitcase to study one evening during my vacation. When I got to Ayr I took a room at the Station Hotel, because in our correspondence there had been no suggestion that he could put me up. I changed out of my plus-fours into -a dark business suit, and went to call upon my client. He did not live at all in the manner I had expected. I did not know much about his estate except that it was probably well over twenty thousand pounds, and I had expected to find my client living in a house with a servant or two. Instead, I discovered that he had a bedroom and a sitting-room on the same floor of a small private hotel just off the sea front. He was evidently leading the life of an invalid though he was hardly more than fifty years old at that time, ten years younger than I was myself. He was as frail as an old lady of eighty, and he had a peculiar grey look about him which didnt look at all good to me. All the windows of his sitting-room were shut and after the clean air of the lochs and moors I found his room stuffy and close; he had a number of budgerigars in cages in the window, and the smell of these birds made the room very unpleasant. It was clear from the furnishings that he had lived in that hotel and in that room for a good many years. He told me something about his life as we discussed the will; he was quite affable, and pleased that I had been able to come to visit him myself. He seemed to be an educated man, though he spoke with a marked Scots accent. I live very quietly, Mr Strachan, he said. My health will not permit me to go far abroad. Whiles I get out upon the front on a fine day and sit for a time, and then again Maggie - thats the daughter of Mrs Doyle who keeps the house - Maggie wheels me out in the chair. They are very good to me here. Turning to the matter of the will, he told me that he had no close relatives at all except his sister, Jean Paget. Forbye my father might have left what you might call an indiscretion or two in Australia, he said. I would not say that there might not be some of those about, though I have never met one, or corresponded. Jean told me once that my mother had been sore distressed. Women talk about these things, of course, and my father was a lusty type of man. His sister Jean had been an officer in the WAACs in the 1914-1918 War, and she had married a Captain Paget in the spring of 1917. It was not a very usual sort of marriage, he said thoughtfully. You must remember that my sister Jean had never been out of Scotland till she joined the army, and the greater part of her life had been spent in Perth. Arthur Paget was an Englishman from Southampton, in Hampshire. I have nothing against Arthur, but we had all naturally thought that Jean would have married a Scot. Still, I would not say but it has been a happy marriage, or as happy as most. After the war was over Arthur Paget had got a job upon a rubber estate in Malaya somewhere near Taiping, and Jean, of course, went out there with him. From that time Douglas Macfadden had seen little of his sister; she had been home on leave in 1926 and again in 1932. She had two children, Donald born in 1918 and Jean born in 1921; these children had been left in England in 1932 to live with the Paget parents and to go to school in Southampton, while their mother returned to Malaya. My client had seen them only once, in 1932 when their mother brought them up to Scotland. The present position was that Arthur Paget had been killed in a motor accident somewhere near Ipoh; he had been driving home at night from Kuala Lumpur and had driven off the road at a high speed and hit a tree. Probably he fell asleep. His widow, Jean Paget, was in England; she had come home a year or so before his death and she had taken a small house in Bassett just outside Southampton to make a home for the children and to be near their schools. It was a sensible arrangement, of course, but it seemed to me to be a pity that the brother and the sister could not have arranged to live nearer to each other. -I fancy that my client regretted the distance that separated them, because he referred to it more than once. He wanted to revise his will. His existing will was a very simple one, in which he left his entire estate to his sister Jean. I would not alter that, he said. But you must understand that Arthur Paget was alive when 1 made that will, and that in the nature of things 1expected him to be alive when Jean inherited from me, and 1 expected that he would be there to guide her in matters of business. 1 shall not make old bones. He seemed to have a fixed idea that all women were unworldly creatures and incapable of looking after money; they were irresponsible, and at the mercy of any adventurer. Accordingly, although he wanted his sister to have the full use of his money after his death, he wanted to create a trust to ensure that her son Donald, at that time a schoolboy, should inherit the whole estate intact after his mothers death. There was, of course, no special difficulty in that. I presented to him the various pros and cons of a trust such as he envisaged, and 1 reminded him that a small legacy to Mrs Doyle, in whose house he had lived for so many years, might not be out of place provided that he was still living with them at the time of his death. He agreed to that. He told me then that he had no close relations living, and he asked me if I would undertake to be the sole trustee of his estate and the executor of his will. That is the sort of business a family solicitor frequently takes on his shoulders, of course. I told him that in view of my age he should appoint a co-trustee, and he agreed to the insertion of our junior partner, Mr Lester Robinson, to be co-trustee with me. He also agreed to a charging clause for our professional services in connection with the trust. There only remained to tidy up the loose ends of what was, after all, a fairly simple will. I asked him what should happen if both he and his sister were to die before the boy Donald was twenty-one, and I suggested that the trust should terminate and the boy should inherit the estate absolutely when he reached his majority. He agreed to this, and I made another note upon my pad. Supposing then, I said, that Donald should die before his mother, or if Donald and his mother should die in some way before you. The estate would then pass to the girl, Jean. Again, I take it that the trust would terminate when she reached her majority? Ye mean, he asked, when she became twenty-one? I nodded. Yes. That is what we decided in the case of her brother. He shook his head. I think that would be most imprudent, Mr Strachan, if I may say so. No lassie would be fit to administer her own estate when she was twenty-one. A lassie of that age is at the mercy of her sex, Mr Strachan, at the mercy of her sex. I would want the trust to continue for much longer than that. Till she was forty, at the very least. From various past experiences I could not help agreeing with him that twenty-one was a bit young for a girl to have absolute control over a large sum of money, but forty seemed to me to be excessively old. I stated my own view that twenty-five would be a reasonable age, and very reluctantly he receded to thirty-five. I could not move him from that position, and as he was obviously tiring and growing irritable I accepted that as the maximum duration of our trust. It meant that in those very unlikely circumstances the trust would continue for twenty-one years from that date, since the girl Jean had been born in 1921 and it was then 1935- That finished our business and I left him and went back to London to draft out the will, which I sent to him for signature. I never saw my client again. It was my fault that I lost touch with him. It had been my habit for a great many years to take my holiday in the spring, when I would go with my wife to Scotland for a fortnights fishing, usually to Loch Shiel. I th Details ISBN0307474003 Author Nevil Shute Short Title TOWN LIKE ALICE Language English ISBN-10 0307474003 ISBN-13 9780307474001 Media Book Format Paperback DEWEY 823.912 Year 2010 Residence US Birth 1899 Death 1960 Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2010-02-09 NZ Release Date 2010-02-09 US Release Date 2010-02-09 UK Release Date 2010-02-09 Pages 368 Publisher Random House USA Inc Series Vintage International Publication Date 2010-02-09 Imprint Random House Inc Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:43650422;

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