A short and concise story about a garden party and how crisis manifests itself differently across class differences. This work is timeless and probably more relevant now than upon its publication. ( )

This is a short story that is on the list of 1001 Books to Read Before You Die. The group on LibraryThing that consists of people trying to read the 1001 books (actually over 1300 on all editions of the list) suggested that we pick a book that we had never heard of before to read in November 2020. This fit the bill for me; in fact I was unfamiliar with the author as well. After I finished the story, which is only 12 pages long, I looked at the Wikipedia entry on Katherine Mansfield and she seems like an interesting woman for her time period at the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th century. She was only 34 when she died in 1923, just two years after writing this story. She developed pulmonday tuberculosis and in the days before penicillin (it wasn't discovered until 1928) that was pretty much a death sentence.

The story itself starts out on an idyllic summer day in rural England. A garden party is to be held on the grounds of a manor house with all the attendant food, drink and music. Just before it is due to commence one of the daughters of the household hears of the accidental death of a working class person that lives close to the manor house. Her instinct is to cancel the party but she is convinced that the family of the deceased man won't mind if they go ahead. After the party is over her mother sends her to the man's house with a basket full of left-overs from the party. The daughter is quite affected by seeing the body of the accident victim laid out
"There lay a young man, fast asleep--sleeping so soundly, so deeply, that he was far, far away...Oh, so remote, so peaceful. He was dreaming. Never wake him up again. His head was sunk in the pillow, his eyes were closed; they were blind under the closed eyelids. He was given up to his dream. What did garden-parties and baskets and lace frocks matter to him? He was far from all those things. He was wonderful, beautiful. While they were laughing and while the band was playing, this marvel had come to the lane. Happy...happy...All is well, said that sleeping face. This is just as it should be. I am content. But all the same you had to cry..."

The story is very well constructed and conveys a snapshot of class differences in the early 20th century in England. ( )