The Luncheon by S. Maugham; внеклассное чтение по английскому языку
методическая разработка (7, 8, 9, 10, 11 класс)

 William Somerset Maugham

William Somerset Maugham is one of the best known English writers of the 20th century. He was not only a novelist, but also one of the most successful dramatist and short-story writers.

He was born in Paris in 1874. His parents died when he was very young and the boy was brought up by his uncle, clergyman. After his parents' death the boy was taken away from the French school which he had attended, and went for his lessons daily to the apartment of the English clergyman at the church.At the age of ten the boy was sent to England to attend school. In 1890 he went abroad and studied at the University of Heidelberg from which he returned to England in 1892 and as his parents had destined him for the medical profession, he became a medical student at St. Thomas's hospital in London.His experience in treating the sick gave Maugham material for his first work "Lisa of Lambeth". After that, although he became a fully qualified doctor, Somerset decided to devote his life to literature. "I didn't want to be a doctor. I didn't want to be anything but a writer".

Soon after the publication of his first novel Maugham went to Spain and travelled widely to all parts of the world. He visited Russia, America, Africa, Asia. The technique of the short story had always interested Maugham. De Maupassant and Chekhov influenced him but he developed a form of a story that has unmistakable Maugham's flavor.

Somerset Maugham has written 24 plays, 19 novels and a large number of short stories. The most mature period of his life began in 1915, when he published one of his most popular novels.

Maugham wants the readers to draw his own conclusion about the characters and events described in his novels. The most prominent works by Somerset Maugham are: "Cakes and Ale", "Theatre", and "The Razor's Edge".

Realistic portrayal of life, keen character observation, and interesting plots coupled with beautiful, expressive language, simple and lucid style, place Somerset Maugham on a level with the greatest English writers of the 20th century.

The text under discussion, «the Luncheon» entitled, is a short story by Maugham. The basis of the story is an event, which was 20 years ago and a man remembers it. It’s a plot story: it has a close structure, one collision in the basis.

The story is relatively simple. At the beginning of the story, the writer gives a general notion. It is an exposition. The first action we can see at the theater and then in a restaurant.

The central hero is a poor man, he was a writer, and a woman; it’s not clear whether she is rich or doesn’t.

The young woman invites the men to a luncheon in an expensive restaurant, where this man must pay for a luncheon. The main hero was too poor, «he keeps body and soul together» and couldn’t  afford it.But the man was young and so glad of her attention that he agreed completely to do it. It was applied that the woman likes to eat, but doesn't pay for her appetite. In text there are such words as: enormous, excessive, huge. It proved that the luncheon was unwise, silly.

The climax (the state of upper tension) is a paying for this luncheon. The tension was more and more strained with each dish.  The woman behaves silly and selfish. Then the woman goes to Paris ultimately.

There is no doubt, this story can recur in another situation (don’t by luncheon, for example, in other places). By luncheon people become friends, as a rule but in this story they differentiate after the luncheon. They are strange socially and innerly.

The story teaches us, through lines, that all people are different and we must be more attentive to other possibilities. It's the main idea of the text.

This simple story of life deserves to be read.

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 You can also read the text at the end of this document  

Read the text and make the tasks after reading

 1.     Fill each gap with a word or word combination in italics in an appropriate form.

 1.     I _______________ her at the play.

2.     "Well, it's many years since we first met. _______________!

3.     We are _______________. Do you remember the first time I saw you?

4.     I was earning barely enough money to _______________.

5.     I was startled when the menu was brought, for the prices were a _______________higher than I had expected.

6.     I knew I could _______________caviar, but I could not tell her that.

7.     I see that you're in _______________of eating a heavy luncheon. I'm sure it's a mistake

8.     My _______________. I had seen them in the shops and I knew that they were horribly expensive.

9.     if you insist I _______________.

10.                       _______________. It was not a question now how much money I should have left for the rest of the month, but whether I had enough to pay the bill.

11.                       It was _______________ to me now, so I ordered coffee for myself and an ice-cream and coffee for her.

12.                       The waiter, with a smile on his _______________, came up to us bearing a large basket full of huge peaches.

13.                       But I have had my _______________  at last. Today she weighs twenty-one stone.

2.         Translate the words. Make word combinations

3.         Translate into english:

1. Это произошло 20 лет назад, когда я жил в Париже.
2. Она прочитала мою книгу и написала мне об этом. 
3. Я был польщен и слишком молод, чтобы сказать женщине нет.
4. Когда принесли меню, я увидел, что цены были гораздо выше, чем я ожидал.
5. Я никогда не ем больше одного блюда на завтрак. Немножко рыбы, пожалуй.
6. Люди едят слишком много в наше время.
7. У меня екнуло сердце. Я знал, что не могу позволить себе заказать икру.
8. Я видел спаржу в магазинах и знал, что она ужасно дорогая.
9. Утром я выпиваю чашку кофе, потом обедаю, а на второй завтрак я всегда ем не больше одного блюда.
10. У меня был месяц впереди и ни копейки в кармане.

4.     Discuss the following:

a.         Why do you think she wrote to the author? Do you think many people send letters to writers? Could you write to a writer? What writer could you send a letter to and what would you write about?

b.          Why do you think she asked him to give her a luncheon at Foyot’s? Why did she order the most expensive things? Why did she repeatedly say she never ate anything for luncheon? Did she really mean it or was it a trick?

c.         ‘She gave me the impression of having more teeth, white and large and even, than there were necessary for any practical purpose’. Why do you think the author pays special attention to the description of the woman’s teeth?

d.      What do you think is the author’s attitude to the reading public: good-humored, ruthless, ironical or skeptical?

5.         Retell the story if you were the lady.

6.         Retell the story if you were the waiter.

The Luncheon

William Somerset Maugham

I caught sight of her at the play, and in answer to her beckoning, I went over during the interval and sat down beside her. It was long since I had last seen her, and if someone had not mentioned her name I hardly think I would have recognized her.

She addressed me brightly.

"Well, it's many years since we first met.  How time does fly! We're none of us getting any younger. Do you remember the first time I saw you? You asked me to luncheon.”

Did I remember?

It was twenty years ago and I was living in Paris. I had a tiny apartment in the Latin quarter overlooking a cemetery, and I was earning barely enough money to keep body and soul together. She had read a book of mine and had written to me about it. I answered, thanking her, and presently I received from her another letter saying that she was passing through Paris and would like to have a chat with me; but her time was limited, and the only free moment she had was on the following Thursday; she was spending the morning at the Luxembourg and would I give her a little luncheon at Foyot's afterwards? Foyot's is a restaurant at which the French senators eat, and it was so far beyond my means that I had never even thought of going there. But I was flattered, and I was too young to have learned to say no to a woman. (Few men, I may add, learn this until they are too old to make it of any consequence to a woman what they say.) I had eighty francs (gold francs) to last me the rest of the month, and a modest luncheon should not cost more than fifteen. If I cut out coffee for the next two weeks I could manage well enough.

I answered that I would meet my friend-by correspondence-at Foyot's on Thursday at half-past twelve. She was not so young as I expected and in appearance imposing rather than attractive. She was, in fact, a woman of forty (a charming age, but not one that excites a sudden and devastating passion at first sight), and she gave me the impression of having more teeth, white and large and even, than were necessary for any practical purpose. She was talkative, but since she seemed inclined to talk about me I was prepared to be an attentive listener.

I was startled when the bill of fare was brought, for the prices were a great deal higher than I had anticipated. But she reassured me.

"I never eat anything for luncheon," she said.

"Oh, don't say that!" I answered generously.

"I never eat more than one thing. I think people eat far too much nowadays. A little fish, perhaps. I wonder if they have any salmon."

Well, it was early in the year for salmon and it was not on the bill of fare, but I asked the waiter if there was any. Yes, a beautiful salmon had just come in, it was the first they had had. I ordered it for my guest. The waiter asked her if she would have something while it was being cooked.

"No," she answered, "I never eat more than one thing unless you have a little caviare, I never mind caviare."

My heart sank a little. I knew I could not afford caviare, but I could not very well tell her that. I told the waiter by all means to bring caviare. For myself I chose the cheapest dish on the menu and that was a mutton chop.

"I think you are unwise to eat meat," she said. "I don't know how you can expect to work after eating heavy things like chops. I don't believe in overloading my stomach."

Then came the question of drink.

"I never drink anything for luncheon," she said.

"Neither do I," I answered promptly.

"Except white wine," she proceeded as though I had not spoken.

"These French white wines are so light. They're wonderful for the digestion."

"What would you like?" I asked, hospitable still, but not exactly effusive.

She gave me a bright and amicable flash of her white teeth.

"My doctor won't let me drink anything but champagne."

I fancy I turned a trifle pale. I ordered half a bottle. I mentioned casually that my doctor had absolutely forbidden me to drink champagne.

"What are you going to drink, then?"

"Water."

She ate the caviare and she ate the salmon. She talked gaily of art and literature and music. But I wondered what the bill would come to. When my mutton chop arrived she took me quite seriously to task.

"I see that you're in the habit of eating a heavy luncheon. I'm sure it's a mistake. Why don't you follow my example and just eat one thing? I'm sure you'd feel ever so much better for it."

"I am only going to eat one thing." I said, as the waiter came again with the bill of fare.

She waved him aside with an airy gesture.

"No. no. I never eat anything for luncheon. Just a bite, I never want more than that, and I eat that more as an excuse for conversation than anything else. I couldn't possibly eat anything more unless they had some of those giant asparagus. I should be sorry to leave Paris without having some of them."

My heart sank. I had seen them in the shops, and I knew that they were horribly expensive. My mouth had often watered at the sight of them.

"Madame wants to know if you have any of those giant asparagus." I asked the waiter.

I tried with all my might to will him to say no. A happy smile spread over his broad, priest-like face, and he assured me that they had some so large, so splendid, so tender, that it was a marvel.

"I'm not in the least hungry," my guest sighed, "but if you insist I don't mind having some asparagus."

I ordered them.

"Aren't you going to have any?"

"No, I never eat asparagus."

"I know there are people who don't like them. The fact is, you ruin your palate by all the meat you eat."

We waited for the asparagus to be cooked. Panic seized me. It was not a question now of how much money I should have left over for the rest of the month, but whether I had enough to pay the bill. It would be mortifying to find myself ten francs short and be obliged to borrow from my guest. I could not bring myself to do that. I knew exactly how much I had, and if the bill came to more I had made up my mind that I would put my hand in my pocket and with a dramatic cry start up and say it had been picked. Of course, it would be awkward if she had not money enough either to pay the bill. Then the only thing would be to leave my watch and say I would come back and pay later.

The asparagus appeared. They were enormous, succulent, and appetizing. The smell of the melted butter tickled my nostrils as the nostrils of Jehovah were tickled by the burned offerings of the virtuous Semites. I watched the abandoned woman thrust them down her throat in large voluptuous mouthfuls, and in my polite way I discoursed on the condition of the drama in the Balkans. At last she finished.

"Coffee?" I said.

"Yes, just an ice cream and coffee,” she answered.

I was past caring now. So I ordered coffee for myself and an ice cream and coffee for her.

"You know, there's one thing I thoroughly believe in," she said, as she ate the ice cream. "One should always get up from a meal feeling one could eat a little more."

"Are you still hungry?" I asked faintly.

"Oh, no, I'm not hungry; you see, I don't eat luncheon. I have a cup of coffee in the morning and then dinner, but I never eat more than one thing for luncheon. I was speaking for you."

"Oh, I see!"

Then a terrible thing happened. While we were waiting for the coffee, the head waiter, with an ingratiating smile on his false face, came up to us bearing a large basket full of huge peaches. They had the blush of an innocent girl; they had the rich tone of an Italian landscape. But surely peaches were not in season then? Lord knew what they cost. I knew too what they cost-a little later, for my guest, going on with her conversation, absentmindedly took one.

"You see, you've filled your stomach with a lot of meat"-my one miserable little chop- "and you can't eat any more. But I've just had a snack and I shall enjoy a peach."

The bill came and when I paid it I found that I had only enough for a quite inadequate tip. Her eyes rested for an instant on the three francs I left for the waiter, and I knew that she thought me mean. But when I walked out of the restaurant I had the whole month before me and not a penny in my pocket.

"Follow my example," she said as we shook hand, "and never eat more than one thing for luncheon."

"I'll do better than that," I retorted. "I'll eat nothing for dinner to-night."

"Humorist!" she cried gaily, jumping into a cab, "you're quite a humorist!"

But I have had my revenge at last. I do not believe that I am a vindictive man, but when the immortal gods take a hand in the matter it is pardonable to observe the result with complacency. Today she weighs twenty-one stone.