As opposed to sitting in a classical music concert, asking: what is this making me feel?" Fell also resists the idea that clubs are purely escapist.
The 14-year-old who has been reading Wilde and Balzac and Thomas Mann has been reading Hopkins too – "I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day" – and wraps himself in the fell, a second animal skin, of self-disgust and isolation.
I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
"I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day," observed the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, a depressive 19th-century Jesuit priest.
In his sonnet about insomnia "I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day," Hopkins suffered not a physical but a spiritual crisis.
Would it alter how we experience Gerard Manley Hopkins's dark sonnets ("I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. / What hours, O what black hours we have spent / This night!"), if we knew he may have sawed Zzzzs?
"I felt really good," Fell said.
It was as if something clicked in my head and all of the excuses that I had made for why I felt so crappy fell by the wayside and I could finally see the light.
I expected the earth-shaking whump I'd felt when I'd felled sounder trees myself.
After resigning, he exits the store in blinding sunlight, then, in the concluding sentence, he turns back and sees, through a big window, that the store manager is temporarily manning his register: "His face was dark gray and his back stiff, as if he'd just had an injection of iron, and my stomach kind of fell as I felt how hard the world was going to be to me from here on in".
