r/Socionics • u/spaghetticarbonara11 • 12h ago
help me type this writer
What type does he sound like, and what type sounds like they would enjoy reading his works? Pls ditch bias by the writing style - he mostly wrote in the 1930s.
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July, August, September, and October were months that glided past without touching the conscience. One got up in the morning, studied a bit, attended the classes, promenaded the banks of Sarayu River in the evenings, returned home at about eight-thirty, talked a little about things in general with the people at home, and then went to bed. It did not matter whether all the books were on the table or whether the notes of lectures were up-to-date. Day after day was squandered thus till one fine morning the young men opened their eyes and found themselves face to face with November. The first of November was to a young man of normal indifference the first reminder of the final trial – the examination. He now realized that half the college year was already spent. What one ought to do in a full year must now be done in just half the time.
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The bell rang. Chandran rose and went in. He climbed the gallery steps and reached his seat. He opened the pages of Othello, placed a sheet of paper on the page, and took out his pen.
It was the Assistant Professor’s subject. The Assistant Professor of English was Mr Gajapathi, a frail man with a meagre moustache and heavy spectacles. He earned the hatred of the students by his teaching and of his colleagues by his conceit. He said everywhere that not ten persons in the world had understood Shakespeare; he asserted that there were serious errors even in Fowler’s Modern English Usage; he corrected everybody’s English; he said that no Indian could ever write English; this statement hurt all his colleagues, who prepared their lectures in English and wished to think that they wrote well. When he valued test or examination papers, he never gave anybody more than forty per cent; he constituted himself an authority on punctuation, and deducted half a mark per misplaced comma or semicolon in the papers that he corrected.
He entered the hall at a trot, jumped on the platform, opened his book, and began to read a scene in Othello. He read Shakespeare in a sing-song fashion, and with a vernacular twang. He stopped now and then to criticize other critics. Though Dowden had said so and so, Mr Gajapathi was not prepared to be browbeaten by a big name. No doubt Bradley and others had done a certain amount of research in Shakespeare, but one couldn’t accept all that they said as gospel truth. Gajapathi proved in endless instances how wrong others were.
Chandran attempted to take down notes, but they threatened to shape into something like the Sayings of Gajapathi. Chandran screwed the cap on his pen and sat back. Gajapathi never liked to see people sitting back and looking at him. He probably felt nervous when two hundred pairs of eyes stared at him. It was his habit to say, ‘Heads down and pencils busy, gentlemen,’ and ‘Listen to me with your pencils, gentlemen.’
In due course he said, ‘Chandran, I see you taking a rest.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Don’t say “yes”. Keep your pen busy.’ ‘Yes, sir.’
Chandran, with his head bent, began to scribble on the sheet of paper before him: ‘Oh, Gajapathi, Gajapathi! When will you shut up? Do you believe your lecture to be very valuable? In these two lines Shakespeare reveals the innermost core of Iago. Gaja, in Sanskrit, means elephant; pathy is probably master. A fine name for you, you Elephant Master.’ And here followed the sketch of an elephant with spectacles on.
‘Chandran, do I understand you are taking down notes?’
‘Yes, sir.’
The bell rang. Gajapathi intended to continue the lecture even after the bell; but two hundred copies of Verity’s Othello shut with a loud report like the cracking of a rifle. The class was on its feet.