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- Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
In "The High Heart," Basil King weaves a rich tapestry of human emotion and spiritual exploration, set against the backdrop of early 20th-century society. The novel follows the lives of its protagonists as they navigate the complexities of love, sacrifice, and self-discovery, delivered through King's evocative prose and nuanced characterizations. The narrative is marked by an underlying philosophical quest that reflects the era's preoccupation with idealism and the search for authenticity amidst societal expectations, making it a vital piece of literature during a period of significant social change. Basil King, a Canadian author who settled in Britain, drew upon his diverse experiences and rich cultural heritage to inform his writing. His deep engagement with themes of morality and the human condition can be traced to his own encounters with the challenges of modern existence, as well as his reflections on religion and spirituality. These influences resonate throughout "The High Heart," inviting readers to ponder their own values in a rapidly transforming world. I highly recommend "The High Heart" to readers who appreciate a profound exploration of the human spirit. King's masterful storytelling not only challenges the reader to reflect on their ideals but also offers a captivating narrative that lingers long after the final page. It is a timeless examination of what it truly means to live with a 'high heart' in an imperfect world. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - A succinct Introduction situates the work's timeless appeal and themes. - The Synopsis outlines the central plot, highlighting key developments without spoiling critical twists. - A detailed Historical Context immerses you in the era's events and influences that shaped the writing. - A thorough Analysis dissects symbols, motifs, and character arcs to unearth underlying meanings. - Reflection questions prompt you to engage personally with the work's messages, connecting them to modern life. - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
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The High Heart
Table of Contents
Introduction
At its core, The High Heart considers how a person sustains principle and tenderness in the face of pressure, temptation, and the subtle entanglements of social life, asking what it means to live faithfully when the world invites easier compromises and more glittering rewards than the conscience can endorse, and tracing the delicate calibrations by which hope, desire, and obligation reshape one another until a truer measure of courage emerges from quiet decisions as surely as from dramatic gestures, revealing integrity as both a private discipline and a public responsibility.
Basil King’s novel belongs to the tradition of early twentieth-century fiction that blends social observation with psychological inquiry, offering a narrative attentive to inner conflict as well as outward circumstance. Published in that period’s flourishing market for morally serious popular novels, The High Heart addresses readers who expected reflection alongside plot. Without anchoring itself to spectacle, it situates its characters within recognizable modern routines and expectations. The result is a work that draws on the era’s realignments—of class, belief, and personal ambition—while remaining accessible, measured, and resolutely focused on the human scale of choice and consequence.
The premise unfolds through a central figure confronted with competing claims of loyalty, love, and self-respect, a design that favors close attention to motive over sensational turns. Rather than racing from crisis to crisis, the book gathers force through conversation, hesitation, and the incremental clarity that accompanies difficult decisions. Readers encounter a voice patient enough to weigh possibilities and honest enough to acknowledge uncertainty, producing a quietly suspenseful mood. The experience is that of an intimate moral portrait: the plot advances, but the deeper movement is inward, toward the moment when resolve, feeling, and action finally align.
King’s emphasis falls on the tension between conscience and convenience, as well as the uses and misuses of aspiration. The title’s promise of a high heart suggests not just bravery but elevation of motive—an ideal that demands generosity without self-abnegation and discernment without cynicism. Themes of trust, responsibility, and the shaping force of community recur, sharpened by the friction between how one wishes to be seen and what one knows to be right. The novel invites readers to consider the costs of ethical clarity, and the subtle ways affection tests conviction even as it gives strength to sustain it.
Stylistically, the prose is clear, unhurried, and attentive to the ripple effects of seemingly small choices. Scenes accumulate pressure through tone and implication rather than display, and the narrative architecture privileges balance: moments of reflection answer moments of risk, and judgments are weighed rather than declared. King’s method allows character to lead plot, yet he remains alert to the social textures—expectations, courtesies, tacit rules—that make personal decisions both intelligible and consequential. The mood is serious but not severe, composed of sympathy for human limits and respect for the effort required to live up to one’s best sense of self.
For contemporary readers, the book’s questions feel freshly pertinent: how to act with integrity in competitive environments; how to keep faith with others without losing one’s own direction; how to tell prudence from surrender. In an age of public performance and private uncertainty, The High Heart offers a counterpoint of steadiness, suggesting that meaningful change often proceeds by quiet increments rather than dramatic renunciations. It rewards patience, invites self-scrutiny, and models a way of weighing values that neither romanticizes suffering nor trivializes the real demands that principles can impose.
Approached in this spirit, The High Heart becomes a companionable study in courage—less a parade of events than a demonstration of how character is formed, tested, and affirmed. Readers who appreciate psychologically alert, ethically engaged fiction will find a narrative that honors complexity without sinking into opacity. Its satisfactions arise from recognition: of frailty, of persistence, of moments when the next right step is both modest and momentous. By the end, the book has not merely told a story; it has offered a way of noticing the pressures that shape us and the interior resources by which we answer them.
Synopsis
The High Heart opens in a polished urban world of drawing rooms and discreet ambitions, where a young woman is poised between comfort and responsibility. Raised within a family accustomed to security and social regard, she is presented as attentive to outward duties and inward ideals. The narrative establishes the rhythms of visits, obligations, and unspoken expectations that shape her choices. Early chapters underline the contrast between appearances and realities in business and society, sketching the background of a household whose standing depends on confidence and trust. With measured pacing, the book introduces the theme of moral courage, hinting at trials that will test more than fortune.
Amid teas, dinners, and charitable committees, a pattern of presumed futures gathers around the heroine. A conventional path seems readily available in the figure of a polished suitor whose family name promises continuity. At the same time, a more independent character—self-made, practical, and a stranger to inherited privilege—appears at the margins. He speaks less of tradition than of duty, work, and plain dealing. The juxtaposition frames the choice that will animate the plot: between the comforts of accepted custom and the demands of a sterner integrity. The notion of the "high heart" emerges as aspiration, not ornament, setting a standard beyond social success.
The early equilibrium is broken by a financial disturbance that reaches into the family’s inner rooms. Questions arise about accounts, collateral, and the exact meaning of trust when numbers no longer balance. The heroine learns how fragile reputations can be when confidence falters, and how swiftly acquaintances become onlookers. This crisis does not erupt in melodrama; rather, it advances through interviews, letters, and cautious conversations that reveal widening implications. The household shifts from hosting to explaining, from ease to vigilance. By placing the heroine at the center of these adjustments, the narrative signals that her choices—personal and practical—will determine the family’s path forward.
As rumors thicken, the two principal male figures come into clearer relief. The socially suitable suitor offers protection through discretion and connections, proposing to smooth over difficulties with tact. The outsider, familiar with ledgers and labor, insists on straight answers and restitution if wrong has been done. Through them, the story maps competing codes: one prioritizes face-saving continuity, the other corrective action and candor. The heroine’s conversations with each are central scenes, not for romance alone but for moral framing. The book maintains neutrality about outcomes, focusing on how each viewpoint clarifies the price of choices made in the wake of a public doubt.
Practicalities follow: documents must be gathered, interviews given, and arrangements made to steady daily life. The heroine assumes tasks once invisible to her, negotiating servants’ wages, creditors’ patience, and the dignity of routine. Social space tightens; invitations dwindle; friendly nods become measured. Yet she persists in outward composure while inwardly measuring what loyalty and truth may demand. The narrative dwells on small acts—packing papers, closing a desk, accepting a simpler dress—as signs of a larger reordering. The family’s older generation counsels caution; younger voices urge decision. Throughout, the heroine listens, weighs, and refuses to be rushed into denial or to be bluffed by panic.
A midpoint turn arrives with a disclosure that clarifies the scale of the difficulty and the extent to which errors—whether of judgment or intent—have compounded. Legal inquiry hovers at the threshold, and a misstep could fix blame publicly. The outsider introduces her to a world outside drawing rooms: workshops, offices, and practical men who keep promises by the day’s end. This contrast sharpens her perception of value divorced from prestige. The plot tightens around the question of whether to preserve appearances or to confront facts fully, knowing either course will exact a toll. The narrative keeps outcomes suspended, underscoring deliberation over impulse.
Pressure builds as timelines shorten and the social season yields to consequences. A solution appears that would avert scandal at the cost of a personal sacrifice—one that touches the heroine’s future, relationships, and sense of self. Friends advise expediency; the outsider counsels the straight path, difficult though it may be. The conventional suitor reaffirms his offer under conditions that promise safety but limit candor. Scenes of private counsel, family appeals, and solitary reflection follow, emphasizing that the decision is hers. The book’s title gathers meaning here, pointing to standards of action that accept risk in order to be true to a higher conception of honor.
The climactic movement unfolds in public and private arenas: a meeting, an explanation, and a choice that sets the course for everyone involved. The narrative refrains from spectacle, focusing instead on the measured gravity of testimony, letters signed, and hands shaken. Consequences begin to radiate—some immediate, others deferred—altering household arrangements and social alignments. The two men’s positions are tested by the heroine’s decision, which neither flatters nor embarrasses, but clarifies. Without revealing the specific outcome, the book shows the practical aftermath: new addresses, revised expectations, and a steadier rhythm born of accepted responsibility. The crisis resolves into work, not triumph.
In its closing chapters, The High Heart presents a tempered vision of happiness rooted in self-respect and service rather than display. The heroine’s maturation is measured by what she can forego, the plainness she can accept, and the trust she can command by being clear. Relationships settle in forms consistent with choices made, suggesting futures built on earned confidence. The book’s message remains consistent: character outlasts circumstance, and courage consists in telling the truth and paying its price. Without grand gestures, the narrative affirms that a high heart is not an impulse but a discipline, shaping a life that proves quietly durable.
Historical Context
Basil King’s The High Heart (published 1917) unfolds within the Anglo-American world of the mid-1910s, when the Great War transformed daily life on both sides of the Atlantic. Its social canvas is recognizably that of East Coast American cities—New York, Boston—and their transatlantic counterparts, where wealthy families, clergy, professionals, and volunteers circulated between parlors, hospitals, and relief committees. The atmosphere is one of wartime strain and moral testing, shaped by censorship, shortages, and incessant news from Europe. King, a Canadian-born former Episcopal clergyman long resident in the United States, writes from the vantage point of Allied-leaning urban society, attentive to the obligations of duty, philanthropy, and sacrifice under the pressures of 1914–1918.
World War I began after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo on 28 June 1914, triggering the July Crisis and a cascade of declarations: Austria-Hungary against Serbia (28 July), Germany’s invasion of Belgium (4 August) under the Schlieffen Plan, and Britain’s entry the same day. The Western Front solidified from the North Sea to Switzerland after the First Battle of the Marne (6–12 September 1914), inaugurating trench warfare seen at Ypres (1914–1915) and Verdun (1916). This geopolitical convulsion provides the book’s horizon: characters live with casualty lists, refugee reports, and appeals for aid, and King’s Allied sympathies—rooted in his Canadian birth under the British Crown—color the narrative’s moral orientation toward the Entente.
Before April 1917 the United States maintained official neutrality. President Woodrow Wilson’s 19 August 1914 address urged Americans to be “impartial in thought,” yet submarine warfare strained that stance. The sinking of RMS Lusitania on 7 May 1915 killed 1,198, including 128 U.S. citizens, provoking outrage; the 1916 Sussex pledge briefly eased tensions. The Preparedness movement, championed by Theodore Roosevelt and General Leonard Wood, led to the National Defense Act of 3 June 1916, expanding the Army and National Guard, and the Naval Act of 1916. The novel mirrors this debate by placing elite households, clergy, and social workers between pacifist conscience and civic responsibility, charting their turn from private benevolence to organized war relief.
The American decision to enter the war on 6 April 1917 followed Germany’s resumption of unrestricted U-boat warfare (1 February 1917) and the Zimmermann Telegram’s interception and publication (1 March 1917). Congress passed the Selective Service Act on 18 May 1917, and General John J. Pershing led the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF) to France beginning June 1917. U.S. troops fought at Cantigny (28 May 1918), Belleau Wood (June 1918), Saint-Mihiel (12–16 September 1918), and in the Meuse-Argonne offensive (26 September–11 November 1918). Approximately 116,516 Americans died. In King’s framework, such milestones are the moral metronome behind private decisions—who enlists, who nurses, who funds relief—binding drawing-room dilemmas to national mobilization and sacrifice.
Mobilization on the home front reordered institutions and habits. The War Industries Board (July 1917, chaired by Bernard Baruch) coordinated production; Herbert Hoover’s U.S. Food Administration promoted “meatless Mondays” and “wheatless Wednesdays”; the Fuel Administration, under Harry Garfield, decreed “heatless Mondays.” The Committee on Public Information (April 1917, George Creel) orchestrated propaganda; four Liberty Loan drives and a Victory Loan (1917–1919) raised over $21 billion, dramatized by parades down Fifth Avenue and celebrity bond rallies. The American Red Cross, YMCA, YWCA, and church charities expanded hospitals, canteens, and refugee aid. The High Heart reflects this civic choreography by foregrounding voluntary service—particularly by women of means—as an arena where status, conscience, and genuine utility collide.
Wartime patriotism shaded into surveillance and repression. The Espionage Act (15 June 1917) and Sedition Act (May 1918) criminalized interference with the draft and disloyal speech; in Schenck v. United States (1919), the Supreme Court upheld restrictions under the “clear and present danger” test. The American Protective League (1917–1919) enlisted some 250,000 volunteers to conduct “slacker raids” for draft evaders. Anti-German sentiment produced school bans on German, the renaming of foods (e.g., “liberty cabbage”), and vigilante violence, including the lynching of Robert Prager (Collinsville, Illinois, April 1918). King’s narrative registers these pressures as ethical trials for clergy and laity alike, probing the boundary between sincere loyalty and coercive conformity.
The war accelerated women’s public roles and suffrage momentum. While the National American Woman Suffrage Association under Carrie Chapman Catt supported mobilization, the National Woman’s Party led by Alice Paul picketed the White House in 1917; arrests and hunger strikes at Occoquan Workhouse galvanized opinion. Congress approved the Nineteenth Amendment on 4 June 1919; ratification came on 18 August 1920. Simultaneously, women served as nurses with the Red Cross, staffed canteens, managed relief bureaus, and entered offices and factories. The High Heart engages this transformation by situating female protagonists in leadership of committees and hospitals, testing Victorian prescriptions of duty against modern competence, and revealing how wartime service recast class and gender expectations.
As social and political critique, the book exposes the complacencies of affluent Atlantic society when faced with total war. It interrogates the moral alibi of charity that substitutes check-writing for risk, contrasts ostentatious patriotism with quiet service, and discloses the asymmetry of sacrifice across classes and immigrant communities. By staging dilemmas under the Espionage regime and in bond-drive culture, it questions coercive consensus and xenophobia. Its clergy and lay figures sift spiritual from performative duty, indicting profiteering and status display while honoring genuine courage. In this way, The High Heart articulates a wartime ethic that challenges privilege, validates women’s public agency, and insists on conscience over conformity.
