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Updated: June 3, 2025
With a yelp he tried to struggle up the sloping floor; it reared and heaved over the other way, throwing Kielland and Sparks to the other wall amid a heap of instruments. Through the windows they could see the gray mud flats careening wildly below them. It took only an instant to realize what was happening.
"Better get them together and pack them over to Control Tower, fast," said Kielland. "I mean everybody. Every man in the Installation. We may have this thing just about tied up, if we can get out of here soon enough " Kielland's chair gave a sudden lurch and sailed across the room, smashing into the wall.
"Better get up there, or we'll go where Control Tower went." "But everything gone!" "Wrong again. Everything saved." Kielland urged the administrator up the ladder and sighed with relief as the hatch clanged shut. The jets bloomed and sprayed boiling mud far and wide as the landing craft lifted soggily out of the mire and roared for the clouds above.
"This is supposed to be news to me?" said Simpson. "So you've got troubles." "Friend, you're right about that." "Well, we'll straighten them out," Kielland said smoothly. "But first I want to see the foreman who put that wretched landing platform together." Simpson's eyes became wary. "Uh you don't really want to see him?" "Yes, I think I do.
"Go away," said Kielland in disgust, and turned back to the reports with a sour taste in his mouth. Later he called the Installation Comptroller. "What do you pay Mud-pups for their work?" he wanted to know. "Nothing," said the Comptroller. "Nothing!" "We have nothing they can use. What would you give them United Nations coin? They'd just try to eat it." "How about something they can eat, then?"
If we fire him, we'll have to start all over again with another one." Kielland stared at the Venusian, and then at Simpson. "So," he said finally, "I see." "No, you don't," Simpson said with conviction. "You don't even begin to see yet. You have to fight it for a few months before you really see."
To the same exhibition in 1894 she contributed two Swiss landscapes, which were well considered. <b>KIELLAND, KITTY.</b> Sister of the famous Norwegian novelist, Alexander Kielland. Her pictures of the forests and fjords of Norway are the best of her works and painted con amore.
He sat up, wiping mud from his hair and surveying the damage. Bottles and boxes of medicaments were scattered all over the floor of the wardrobe, covered with mud but unopened. Only one large box had been torn apart, its contents ravaged. Kielland stared at it as things began clicking into place in his mind.
The beautiful story Elsie, which, though published separately, is scarcely a full-grown novel, is intended to impress society with a sense of responsibility for its outcasts. While Björnstjerne Björnson is fond of emphasizing the responsibility of the individual to society, Kielland chooses by preference to reverse the relation.
As regards the themes of these "novelettes" (from which the present collection is chiefly made up), it was remarked at the time of their first appearance that they hinted at a more serious purpose than their style seemed to imply. Who can read, for instance, "Pharaoh" (which in the original is entitled "A Hall Mood") without detecting the revolutionary note which trembles quite audibly through the calm and unimpassioned language? There is, by-the-way, a little touch of melodrama in this tale which is very unusual with Kielland. "Romance and Reality," too, is glaringly at variance with the conventional romanticism in its satirical contributing of the pre-matrimonial and the post-matrimonial view of love and marriage. The same persistent tendency to present the wrong side as well as the right side and not, as literary good-manners are supposed to prescribe, ignore the former is obvious in the charming tale "At the Fair," where a little spice of wholesome truth spoils the thoughtlessly festive mood; and the squalor, the want, the envy, hate, and greed which prudence and a regard for business compel the performers to disguise to the public, become the more cruelly visible to the visitors of the little alley-way at the rear of the tents. In "A Good Conscience" the satirical note has a still more serious ring; but the same admirable self-restraint which, next to the power of thought and expression, is the happiest gift an author's fairy godmother can bestow upon him, saves Kielland from saying too much from enforcing his lesson by marginal comments,
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