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袛褉褍谐懈褌械 懈 屑芯褟 屑懈谢芯褋褌
The narrator purchases a country house in need of major updates. Leaving his wife to keep an eye on their London home, he and his 21-year-old son and 19- and 9-year-old daughters move to a nearby cottage until their new property is ready to occupy.
200 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1909
13 people are currently reading
243 people want to read
About the author
Jerome K. Jerome
781听books1,266听followersJerome Klapka Jerome was an English writer and humorist, best known for the comic travelogue Three Men in a Boat (1889). Other works include the essay collections Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow (1886) and Second Thoughts of an Idle Fellow; Three Men on the Bummel, a sequel to Three Men in a Boat; and several other novels. Jerome was born in Walsall, England, and, although he was able to attend grammar school, his family suffered from poverty at times, as did he as a young man trying to earn a living in various occupations. In his twenties, he was able to publish some work, and success followed. He married in 1888, and the honeymoon was spent on a boat on the River Thames; he published Three Men in a Boat soon afterwards. He continued to write fiction, non-fiction and plays over the next few decades, though never with the same level of success.
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December 7, 2017
鈽呪槄鈽呪槄鈽� (5/5)
A selection of favourite passages from the book
鈥� I wonder to myself sometimes, Is literature to the general reader ever anything more than a fairy-tale? We write with our heart's blood, as we put it. We ask our conscience, Is it right thus to lay bare the secrets of our souls? The general reader does not grasp that we are writing with our heart's blood: to him it is just ink. He does not believe we are laying bare the secrets of our souls: he takes it we are just pretending
鈥� A farmer has a way of standing on one leg and looking at a thing that isn't there. It sounds simple, but there is knack in it. The farmer is not surprised it is not there. He never expected it to be there. It is one of those things that ought to be, and is not. The farmer's life is full of such. Suffering reduced to a science is what the farmer stands for
鈥� He is tall and thin, with a sensitive, mobile face, and a curious trick of taking his head every now and again between his hands, as if to be sure it is still there
鈥� To pay your dividend鈥攖o earn your two thousand鈥攜ou have to do work that brings you no pleasure in the doing. Content with five hundred, you could afford to do only that work that does give you pleasure
鈥� In the perfect world the thinker would be worth more than the mere jester. In the perfect world the farmer would be worth more than the stockbroker
鈥� never minds what happens to him, and is equally contented if it doesn't
鈥� The influences that make for reformation in human character are subtle and unexpected
鈥� Hers is that type of beauty that escapes attention by its own perfection. It is the eccentric, the discordant, that arrests the roving eye. To harmony one has to attune oneself
鈥� She had a temper鈥攁 woman without a temper is insipid; but it was that kind of temper that made you love her all the more
鈥� Subjects that I feel will never be of the slightest interest or consequence to me have been insisted upon with almost tiresome reiteration
鈥� the writer of books is, generally speaking, an exceptionally moral man. That is what leads him astray: he is too good
鈥� In the book, you, not he, would have tumbled over the mat. In this wicked world it is the wicked who prosper
鈥� That will be our chief pleasure鈥攎aking them good and happy. It won't be their pleasure, but that will be owing to their ignorance
鈥� We will let them play games鈥攏ot stupid games, golf and croquet, that do you no good and lead only to language and dispute鈥攂ut bears and wolves and whales; educational sort of games that will aid them in acquiring knowledge of natural history. We will show them how to play Pirates and Red Indians and Ogres鈥攕ensible play that will help them to develop their imaginative faculties
鈥� But we, of course, must choose their friends for them鈥攏ice, well-behaved ladies and gentlemen, the parents of respectable children
鈥� I'm not quite sure what fool it was who described a bore as a man who talked about himself. As a matter of fact it is the only subject the average man knows sufficiently well to make interesting
鈥� "When our desires leave us, says Rochefoucauld," I remarked, "we pride ourselves upon our virtue in having overcome them."
鈥� The screech-owl in the yew-tree emitted a blood-curdling scream. He perches there each evening on the extreme end of the longest bough. Dimly outlined against the night, he has the appearance of a friendly hobgoblin. But I wish he didn't fancy himself as a vocalist. It is against his own interests, I am sure, if he only knew it. That American college yell of his must have the effect of sending every living thing within half a mile back into its hole
鈥� A lover does not point out his mistress's shortcomings to her
鈥� Our modern morality! Why, compared with the teachings of nature, it is but a few days old
鈥� It will not be me that he will want: only my youth, and the novelty of me, and the mystery. And when that is gone鈥�
鈥� when Love's frenzy is faded, like the fragrance of the blossom, like the splendour of the dawn; there will remain to you, just what was there before鈥攏o more, no less
鈥� If passion was all you had to give to one another, God help you. You have had your hour of madness. It is finished. If greed of praise and worship was your price鈥攚ell, you have had your payment. The bargain is complete
鈥� What remains to you will depend not upon what you THOUGHT, but upon what you ARE
鈥� If behind the lover there was the man鈥攂ehind the impossible goddess of his love-sick brain some honest, human woman, then life lies not behind you, but before you
鈥� Life is giving, not getting
鈥� The lover's delight is to yield, not to claim
鈥� Life is doing, not having
鈥� The passion passes to give place to peace. The trembling lover has become the helper, the comforter, the husband
鈥� the whole art of marriage is the art of getting on with the other fellow. It means patience, self- control, forbearance. It means the laying aside of our self-conceit and admitting to ourselves that, judged by eyes less partial than our own, there may be much in us that is objectionable, that calls for alteration. It means toleration for views and opinions diametrically opposed to our most cherished convictions. It means, of necessity, the abandonment of many habits and indulgences that however trivial have grown to be important to us. It means the shaping of our own desires to the needs of others
鈥� They cry with one voice, "Give us back our Youth with its burdens, and a heart to bear them! Give us back Life with its mingled bitter and sweet!"
A selection of favourite passages from the book
鈥� I wonder to myself sometimes, Is literature to the general reader ever anything more than a fairy-tale? We write with our heart's blood, as we put it. We ask our conscience, Is it right thus to lay bare the secrets of our souls? The general reader does not grasp that we are writing with our heart's blood: to him it is just ink. He does not believe we are laying bare the secrets of our souls: he takes it we are just pretending
鈥� A farmer has a way of standing on one leg and looking at a thing that isn't there. It sounds simple, but there is knack in it. The farmer is not surprised it is not there. He never expected it to be there. It is one of those things that ought to be, and is not. The farmer's life is full of such. Suffering reduced to a science is what the farmer stands for
鈥� He is tall and thin, with a sensitive, mobile face, and a curious trick of taking his head every now and again between his hands, as if to be sure it is still there
鈥� To pay your dividend鈥攖o earn your two thousand鈥攜ou have to do work that brings you no pleasure in the doing. Content with five hundred, you could afford to do only that work that does give you pleasure
鈥� In the perfect world the thinker would be worth more than the mere jester. In the perfect world the farmer would be worth more than the stockbroker
鈥� never minds what happens to him, and is equally contented if it doesn't
鈥� The influences that make for reformation in human character are subtle and unexpected
鈥� Hers is that type of beauty that escapes attention by its own perfection. It is the eccentric, the discordant, that arrests the roving eye. To harmony one has to attune oneself
鈥� She had a temper鈥攁 woman without a temper is insipid; but it was that kind of temper that made you love her all the more
鈥� Subjects that I feel will never be of the slightest interest or consequence to me have been insisted upon with almost tiresome reiteration
鈥� the writer of books is, generally speaking, an exceptionally moral man. That is what leads him astray: he is too good
鈥� In the book, you, not he, would have tumbled over the mat. In this wicked world it is the wicked who prosper
鈥� That will be our chief pleasure鈥攎aking them good and happy. It won't be their pleasure, but that will be owing to their ignorance
鈥� We will let them play games鈥攏ot stupid games, golf and croquet, that do you no good and lead only to language and dispute鈥攂ut bears and wolves and whales; educational sort of games that will aid them in acquiring knowledge of natural history. We will show them how to play Pirates and Red Indians and Ogres鈥攕ensible play that will help them to develop their imaginative faculties
鈥� But we, of course, must choose their friends for them鈥攏ice, well-behaved ladies and gentlemen, the parents of respectable children
鈥� I'm not quite sure what fool it was who described a bore as a man who talked about himself. As a matter of fact it is the only subject the average man knows sufficiently well to make interesting
鈥� "When our desires leave us, says Rochefoucauld," I remarked, "we pride ourselves upon our virtue in having overcome them."
鈥� The screech-owl in the yew-tree emitted a blood-curdling scream. He perches there each evening on the extreme end of the longest bough. Dimly outlined against the night, he has the appearance of a friendly hobgoblin. But I wish he didn't fancy himself as a vocalist. It is against his own interests, I am sure, if he only knew it. That American college yell of his must have the effect of sending every living thing within half a mile back into its hole
鈥� A lover does not point out his mistress's shortcomings to her
鈥� Our modern morality! Why, compared with the teachings of nature, it is but a few days old
鈥� It will not be me that he will want: only my youth, and the novelty of me, and the mystery. And when that is gone鈥�
鈥� when Love's frenzy is faded, like the fragrance of the blossom, like the splendour of the dawn; there will remain to you, just what was there before鈥攏o more, no less
鈥� If passion was all you had to give to one another, God help you. You have had your hour of madness. It is finished. If greed of praise and worship was your price鈥攚ell, you have had your payment. The bargain is complete
鈥� What remains to you will depend not upon what you THOUGHT, but upon what you ARE
鈥� If behind the lover there was the man鈥攂ehind the impossible goddess of his love-sick brain some honest, human woman, then life lies not behind you, but before you
鈥� Life is giving, not getting
鈥� The lover's delight is to yield, not to claim
鈥� Life is doing, not having
鈥� The passion passes to give place to peace. The trembling lover has become the helper, the comforter, the husband
鈥� the whole art of marriage is the art of getting on with the other fellow. It means patience, self- control, forbearance. It means the laying aside of our self-conceit and admitting to ourselves that, judged by eyes less partial than our own, there may be much in us that is objectionable, that calls for alteration. It means toleration for views and opinions diametrically opposed to our most cherished convictions. It means, of necessity, the abandonment of many habits and indulgences that however trivial have grown to be important to us. It means the shaping of our own desires to the needs of others
鈥� They cry with one voice, "Give us back our Youth with its burdens, and a heart to bear them! Give us back Life with its mingled bitter and sweet!"
August 1, 2022
Temi importanti trattati con un complice sorriso bonario
Vi sono scrittori che si identificano in un solo libro. 脠 sicuramente il caso di Jerome Klapka Jerome, che fu giornalista e autore di numerosi romanzi, per lo pi霉 umoristici, ma che vede la sua fama indissolubilmente legata al pi霉 famoso tra questi, Tre uomini in barca (per non parlar del cane), che ancora oggi 猫 considerato un classico dell'umorismo di tutti i tempi.
Per la verit脿 anche altre opere dell'autore inglese sono edite ai nostri giorni, ma 猫 indubbio che l'ingombrante capolavoro costituisca di gran lunga il medium attraverso il quale il grande pubblico si accosta a Jerome, anche perch茅 il resto della sua produzione letteraria non raggiunge, a detta della critica, le vette umoristiche toccate nel suo piccolo capolavoro.
Tra le opere minori di Jerome una certa attenzione editoriale, anche nel nostro Paese, 猫 stata dedicata a Loro e io, romanzo del 1909, scritto quindi vent'anni dopo Tre uomini in barca, quando l'autore, cinquantenne, si era ormai affermato proprio a causa del clamoroso successo anche internazionale di tale romanzo, cui per la verit脿 non ne era segu矛to di analogo per le sue opere successive.
Come spesso accade nelle opere di Jerome, Loro e io 猫 scritto in prima persona. Il narratore 猫 scopertamente l'autore stesso: si tratta infatti di uno scrittore umoristico cinquantenne, sposato con Ethelbertha e padre di tre rampolli, che acquista una casa in campagna. Il rapporto tra il padre e i figli, i cambiamenti nella vita della famiglia che questo trasloco comporta, il nuovo ambiente e le nuove conoscenze, i piccoli inconvenienti derivanti dal doversi adattare alla nuova realt脿 sono altrettanti spunti umoristici che Jerome sviluppa con il consueto garbo e con una prosa che, anzich茅 indurre al riso a volte sfrenato come accade in Tre uomini in barca, qui porta il lettore tuttalpi霉 verso il sorriso.
Il padre narratore e i tre figli sono i protagonisti assoluti attorno a cui ruota tutto il romanzo, come si pu貌 dedurre anche dal suo titolo. Il maggiore 猫 Dick, ventunenne che studia svogliatamente a Cambridge. Di poco pi霉 giovane di lui 猫 Robina, avviata ad un futuro di moglie messo per貌 in dubbio dalla sua personalit脿 in qualche modo irrequieta e ribelle. Infine c'猫 Veronica, di nove anni, che vive come un sopruso il suo stato infantile e la cui logica ingenua ma ferrea 猫 in grado di mandare in crisi le convenzioni cui 猫 sottoposta per il suo essere la pi霉 piccola della famiglia.
La trama 猫 molto esile. Il romanzo inizia con la comunicazione del padre ai figli di avere scelto la casa da acquistare: non 猫 la casa dei suoi sogni ma gli sembra una buona scelta. Ciascun figlio rivendica spazio per s茅 e ritiene di dover imporre il proprio gusto nella ristrutturazione e nell'arredamento dell'edificio, dal momento che la casa necessita di lavori prima di essere abitabile. Dopo una prima animata discussione, padre e figli decidono di andare insieme a vivere in una casetta rustica nei pressi della nuova casa, cos矛 da poter seguire i lavori per la sua ristrutturazione. Ethelbertha, la Piccola Madre, come viene chiamata in famiglia, presumibilmente 猫 malata, perch茅 li seguir脿 non appena si sar脿 rimessa in forze.
Ha cos矛 inizio la nuova vita della famigliola, del tutto impreparata alla realt脿 della vita in campagna. Il primo inconveniente si verifica con una mucca, acquistata dai figli per avere latte fresco, che inizia a muggire in piena notte per essere munta, operazione della quale il quartetto non ha la minima cognizione. Quindi giunge sul posto il Sig. Bute, giovane architetto incaricato di progettare i lavori nella nuova casa, il quale, affascinato da Robina, viene da lei trattato a pesci in faccia. Subito la famiglia conosce i vicini, i St. Leonard: Hubert, il capofamiglia, 猫 un ex agente di cambio che ha abbracciato l'agricoltura in nome di una vita pi霉 tranquilla; ha una moglie piuttosto stupida e una carrettata di bambini, tra cui la ventenne Janie, vera anima pratica della famiglia e di cui si invaghisce Dick, che anche a causa di ci貌 ritiene di avere a sua volta trovato nell'agricoltura la sua ragione di vita.
Quando Veronica, in combutta con un ragazzino del posto, fa esplodere la cucina economica, rischiando la tragedia, il padre torna in citt脿 per avvisare la madre di quanto accaduto e per portarla in campagna, cosa di cui Ethelbertha non 猫 entusiasta. I due raggiungono di nuovo i figli dopo qualche giorno, e tutti partecipano, non senza inconvenienti, ad un ricevimento dai St. Leonard, durante il quale Ethelbertha rivede i propri pregiudizi nei loro confronti. Il romanzo si chiude con l'inaugurazione della nuova casa, che tra l'altro prevede la rappresentazione in famiglia di uno spettacolo teatrale scritto dal protagonista e di uno invece scritto dalla piccola Veronica, che immagina un mondo in cui i bambini educano gli adulti.
Lungo questa trama, il cui filo conduttore 猫 dato essenzialmente, pi霉 che dagli avvenimenti, dalle numerose discussioni che il padre narratore ha con i suoi figli, sono cuciti innumerevoli episodi collaterali, frutto di digressioni del narratore che, secondo un modo di narrare tipico di Jerome, divengono vere e proprie storie nella storia, ed 猫 spesso in queste che si annidano i rari gioielli umoristici del romanzo.
Uno di questi, che troviamo subito nel primo capitolo, 猫 la storia di Rory Malooney, un amico irlandese di Dick, e della sua propensione a combinare disastri giocando a biliardo, con biglie che scavalcano la sponda del tavolo e rischiano di colpire persone e oggetti. 脠 un episodio che permette al lettore di esplorare i meccanismi comici di Jerome, basati, secondo lo standard dello humor inglese che l'autore ha sicuramente contribuito a definire, sulla descrizione impersonale, giornalistica, di situazioni assurde accompagnata dall'attribuzione agli oggetti (in questo caso alle biglie del biliardo) di una volont脿 perversa di mettere in difficolt脿 chi li usa. La comicit脿 nasce quindi quasi sempre dal ribaltamento del rapporto di causa-effetto degli eventi funesti che vengono descritti: l'incapacit脿 del soggetto di gestire la situazione non viene mai attribuita a sue deficienze, ma ad una precisa volont脿 dell'oggetto di comportarsi come vuole, con il risultato paradossale di far emergere in maniera pi霉 netta le incapacit脿 del soggetto. 脠 un meccanismo comico molto sottile, che come detto in questo romanzo si limita spesso ad indurre al sorriso, ma che costituisce una sorta di marchio di fabbrica dell'autore.
Da quanto detto si intuisce che ci troviamo di fronte ad un libro di genere, scritto avendo presente il pubblico a cui si rivolgeva e le sue esigenze. Del resto Jerome 猫 autore di genere per eccellenza, e questo romanzo a mio avviso rappresenta uno degli esempi paradigmatici dei prodotti dell'industria culturale, che all'inizio del XX secolo in Gran Bretagna stava vivendo il suo primo impetuoso sviluppo. La letteratura ha ormai definitivamente perso il suo carattere d'elite, anche la piccola borghesia e in qualche modo le classi popolari possono accedervi, ed autori come Arthur Conan Doyle e Jerome Klapka Jerome vendono milioni di copie dei loro romanzi pi霉 fortunati. Ovviamente gli autori che possono raggiungere tale popolarit脿 vengono accuratamente selezionati tra quelli che offrono messaggi rassicuranti e veicolano il clima di ottimismo positivistico che caratterizza quegli anni.
Lo stile comico di Jerome, cos矛 garbato, cos矛 mainstream, centrato sui piccoli difetti degli individui e sui piccoli inconvenienti della vita, che prende in giro con leggerezza l'organizzazione sociale senza mai n茅 metterne in dubbio le fondamenta n茅 evidenziarne davvero le contraddizioni, 猫 perfetto per dare al pubblico una parvenza di satira sociale intrisa della bonomia di uno sguardo indulgente. Cos矛, Loro ed io affronta un tema di grande importanza, quello del rapporto tra padre e figli in un'epoca che inizia a vedere profonde smagliature nel rigido moralismo gerarchico dell'et脿 vittoriana, restando tuttavia avvolto in un universo di rapporti che 鈥� sia pure in alcuni casi trattato con una certa problematicit脿 鈥� finisce per rimanere del tutto convenzionale. Loro e io 猫 infatti un romanzo che dietro e oltre il genere comico si propone un compito morale, esattamente come Tre uomini in barca era stato originariamente scritto per essere una guida alla scoperta del Tamigi: il compito morale di Loro e io 猫 quello di far riflettere i genitori britannici dell'epoca sulla natura del rapporto con i loro figli. Nel romanzo si assiste infatti ad una evoluzione del rapporto del protagonista con i tre figli. All'inizio questo 猫 infatti conflittuale, ed i figli sono descritti dal protagonista, che non dimentichiamolo narra in prima persona, come dei rompiscatole con i quali di fatto non c'猫 comunicazione. Ciascuno dei tre vorrebbe utilizzare la nuova casa per le proprie esigenze, che sono in contrasto sia con quelle dei genitori sia con quelle dei fratelli. La vita in campagna per貌, con i suoi imprevisti e i suoi inconvenienti, cambia profondamente i rapporti tra i protagonisti. I figli si responsabilizzano, anche se ciascuno a modo suo, e tra i fratelli si fa strada un sottile filo di solidariet脿 reciproca. Ma sono i rapporti con il padre che cambiano drasticamente, perch茅 in lui si fa strada la coscienza della necessit脿 di ascoltare i figli, di stabilire un rapporto paritario con loro. Negli ultimi capitoli del libro, infatti, sono contenuti lunghi dialoghi tra padre e figli, fra i quali spiccano prima quello con la piccola Veronica, durante il quale il padre riconosce i torti del mondo degli adulti nei confronti della psicologia infantile, quindi i colloqui sull'amore con i figli pi霉 grandi, che contengono tra l'altro l'unica storia triste del romanzo.
Traspare quindi nel romanzo un intento educativo, ed in qualche modo si pu貌 anche dire che, mettendo in dubbio l'assoluta autorit脿 paterna, indubbiamente uno dei cardini della societ脿 dell'epoca, il romanzo giochi tale intento anche con un certo coraggio.
Come detto, per貌, il romanzo non riesce ad uscire dai binari di una convenzionalit脿 di fondo. I due figli maggiori vanno incontro a ruoli sociali di fatto predeterminati dal loro sesso: cos矛 mentre Dick deve scegliere se continuare negli svogliati studi o dedicarsi all'agricoltura, essendo comunque il portatore di un futuro produttivo, la scelta che si presenta a Robina 猫 di fatto quella tra lo sposarsi e il non sposarsi mai che rivendica come atto di ribellione. Cos矛, per rimanere in tema di rapporto tra i generi, il ruolo della donna, con la parziale eccezione della giovane Janie, 猫 quello di supporto al capofamiglia, come ben esemplificato anche dalla marginalit脿 che nel romanzo assume la moglie del protagonista. Naturalmente, infine, l'amore che spesso viene evocato in relazione ai due figli maggiori non ha nulla di fisico, 猫 puro sentimento idealizzato.
A mio avviso il personaggio pi霉 fresco e pi霉 sovversivo del romanzo 猫 Veronica, la pi霉 piccola dei figli del narratore, capace di mandare in crisi l'autorit脿 genitoriale pi霉 degli ormai incanalati fratelli maggiori. 脠 lei che emblematicamente fa esplodere la cucina di casa, ed 猫 sempre lei che in qualche modo contesta il ruolo del padre sul suo stesso terreno, scrivendo un'opera teatrale nella quale i bambini hanno il potere e educano i loro adulti. In uno dei capitoli finali del libro 猫 citato J. M. Barrie, l'autore di Peter Pan (che all'epoca era stato pubblicato da cinque anni), e credo si possa azzardare che l'opera di Barrie, la sua capacit脿 di interpretare il mondo infantile, abbia in qualche modo influito sulla caratterizzazione di questo personaggio di Jerome.
Per concludere, la lettura di questo romanzo poco conosciuto di Jerome Klapka Jerome mi ha lasciato impressioni contrastanti. Da un lato Loro e io 猫 senza dubbio un romanzo di genere, una garbata critica all'incapacit脿 dei genitori di dialogare e comprendere le esigenze dei figli, accompagnata anche da una bonaria satira della visione convenzionale che la borghesia urbana inglese aveva della campagna, rivolto ad un pubblico che voleva sorridere di s茅 stesso e dei suoi piccoli difetti senza per貌 che ci貌 mettesse in discussione le basi del suo essere sociale ed etico. 脠 per貌 anche un libro che, pur giocando un ruolo complessivo di strumento di rassicurazione del suo pubblico, ha il coraggio di toccare alcuni temi importanti, ed il sorriso che accompagna la sua lettura a volte sveste i panni dell'indulgenza per farsi un poco pi霉 affilato.
Vi sono scrittori che si identificano in un solo libro. 脠 sicuramente il caso di Jerome Klapka Jerome, che fu giornalista e autore di numerosi romanzi, per lo pi霉 umoristici, ma che vede la sua fama indissolubilmente legata al pi霉 famoso tra questi, Tre uomini in barca (per non parlar del cane), che ancora oggi 猫 considerato un classico dell'umorismo di tutti i tempi.
Per la verit脿 anche altre opere dell'autore inglese sono edite ai nostri giorni, ma 猫 indubbio che l'ingombrante capolavoro costituisca di gran lunga il medium attraverso il quale il grande pubblico si accosta a Jerome, anche perch茅 il resto della sua produzione letteraria non raggiunge, a detta della critica, le vette umoristiche toccate nel suo piccolo capolavoro.
Tra le opere minori di Jerome una certa attenzione editoriale, anche nel nostro Paese, 猫 stata dedicata a Loro e io, romanzo del 1909, scritto quindi vent'anni dopo Tre uomini in barca, quando l'autore, cinquantenne, si era ormai affermato proprio a causa del clamoroso successo anche internazionale di tale romanzo, cui per la verit脿 non ne era segu矛to di analogo per le sue opere successive.
Come spesso accade nelle opere di Jerome, Loro e io 猫 scritto in prima persona. Il narratore 猫 scopertamente l'autore stesso: si tratta infatti di uno scrittore umoristico cinquantenne, sposato con Ethelbertha e padre di tre rampolli, che acquista una casa in campagna. Il rapporto tra il padre e i figli, i cambiamenti nella vita della famiglia che questo trasloco comporta, il nuovo ambiente e le nuove conoscenze, i piccoli inconvenienti derivanti dal doversi adattare alla nuova realt脿 sono altrettanti spunti umoristici che Jerome sviluppa con il consueto garbo e con una prosa che, anzich茅 indurre al riso a volte sfrenato come accade in Tre uomini in barca, qui porta il lettore tuttalpi霉 verso il sorriso.
Il padre narratore e i tre figli sono i protagonisti assoluti attorno a cui ruota tutto il romanzo, come si pu貌 dedurre anche dal suo titolo. Il maggiore 猫 Dick, ventunenne che studia svogliatamente a Cambridge. Di poco pi霉 giovane di lui 猫 Robina, avviata ad un futuro di moglie messo per貌 in dubbio dalla sua personalit脿 in qualche modo irrequieta e ribelle. Infine c'猫 Veronica, di nove anni, che vive come un sopruso il suo stato infantile e la cui logica ingenua ma ferrea 猫 in grado di mandare in crisi le convenzioni cui 猫 sottoposta per il suo essere la pi霉 piccola della famiglia.
La trama 猫 molto esile. Il romanzo inizia con la comunicazione del padre ai figli di avere scelto la casa da acquistare: non 猫 la casa dei suoi sogni ma gli sembra una buona scelta. Ciascun figlio rivendica spazio per s茅 e ritiene di dover imporre il proprio gusto nella ristrutturazione e nell'arredamento dell'edificio, dal momento che la casa necessita di lavori prima di essere abitabile. Dopo una prima animata discussione, padre e figli decidono di andare insieme a vivere in una casetta rustica nei pressi della nuova casa, cos矛 da poter seguire i lavori per la sua ristrutturazione. Ethelbertha, la Piccola Madre, come viene chiamata in famiglia, presumibilmente 猫 malata, perch茅 li seguir脿 non appena si sar脿 rimessa in forze.
Ha cos矛 inizio la nuova vita della famigliola, del tutto impreparata alla realt脿 della vita in campagna. Il primo inconveniente si verifica con una mucca, acquistata dai figli per avere latte fresco, che inizia a muggire in piena notte per essere munta, operazione della quale il quartetto non ha la minima cognizione. Quindi giunge sul posto il Sig. Bute, giovane architetto incaricato di progettare i lavori nella nuova casa, il quale, affascinato da Robina, viene da lei trattato a pesci in faccia. Subito la famiglia conosce i vicini, i St. Leonard: Hubert, il capofamiglia, 猫 un ex agente di cambio che ha abbracciato l'agricoltura in nome di una vita pi霉 tranquilla; ha una moglie piuttosto stupida e una carrettata di bambini, tra cui la ventenne Janie, vera anima pratica della famiglia e di cui si invaghisce Dick, che anche a causa di ci貌 ritiene di avere a sua volta trovato nell'agricoltura la sua ragione di vita.
Quando Veronica, in combutta con un ragazzino del posto, fa esplodere la cucina economica, rischiando la tragedia, il padre torna in citt脿 per avvisare la madre di quanto accaduto e per portarla in campagna, cosa di cui Ethelbertha non 猫 entusiasta. I due raggiungono di nuovo i figli dopo qualche giorno, e tutti partecipano, non senza inconvenienti, ad un ricevimento dai St. Leonard, durante il quale Ethelbertha rivede i propri pregiudizi nei loro confronti. Il romanzo si chiude con l'inaugurazione della nuova casa, che tra l'altro prevede la rappresentazione in famiglia di uno spettacolo teatrale scritto dal protagonista e di uno invece scritto dalla piccola Veronica, che immagina un mondo in cui i bambini educano gli adulti.
Lungo questa trama, il cui filo conduttore 猫 dato essenzialmente, pi霉 che dagli avvenimenti, dalle numerose discussioni che il padre narratore ha con i suoi figli, sono cuciti innumerevoli episodi collaterali, frutto di digressioni del narratore che, secondo un modo di narrare tipico di Jerome, divengono vere e proprie storie nella storia, ed 猫 spesso in queste che si annidano i rari gioielli umoristici del romanzo.
Uno di questi, che troviamo subito nel primo capitolo, 猫 la storia di Rory Malooney, un amico irlandese di Dick, e della sua propensione a combinare disastri giocando a biliardo, con biglie che scavalcano la sponda del tavolo e rischiano di colpire persone e oggetti. 脠 un episodio che permette al lettore di esplorare i meccanismi comici di Jerome, basati, secondo lo standard dello humor inglese che l'autore ha sicuramente contribuito a definire, sulla descrizione impersonale, giornalistica, di situazioni assurde accompagnata dall'attribuzione agli oggetti (in questo caso alle biglie del biliardo) di una volont脿 perversa di mettere in difficolt脿 chi li usa. La comicit脿 nasce quindi quasi sempre dal ribaltamento del rapporto di causa-effetto degli eventi funesti che vengono descritti: l'incapacit脿 del soggetto di gestire la situazione non viene mai attribuita a sue deficienze, ma ad una precisa volont脿 dell'oggetto di comportarsi come vuole, con il risultato paradossale di far emergere in maniera pi霉 netta le incapacit脿 del soggetto. 脠 un meccanismo comico molto sottile, che come detto in questo romanzo si limita spesso ad indurre al sorriso, ma che costituisce una sorta di marchio di fabbrica dell'autore.
Da quanto detto si intuisce che ci troviamo di fronte ad un libro di genere, scritto avendo presente il pubblico a cui si rivolgeva e le sue esigenze. Del resto Jerome 猫 autore di genere per eccellenza, e questo romanzo a mio avviso rappresenta uno degli esempi paradigmatici dei prodotti dell'industria culturale, che all'inizio del XX secolo in Gran Bretagna stava vivendo il suo primo impetuoso sviluppo. La letteratura ha ormai definitivamente perso il suo carattere d'elite, anche la piccola borghesia e in qualche modo le classi popolari possono accedervi, ed autori come Arthur Conan Doyle e Jerome Klapka Jerome vendono milioni di copie dei loro romanzi pi霉 fortunati. Ovviamente gli autori che possono raggiungere tale popolarit脿 vengono accuratamente selezionati tra quelli che offrono messaggi rassicuranti e veicolano il clima di ottimismo positivistico che caratterizza quegli anni.
Lo stile comico di Jerome, cos矛 garbato, cos矛 mainstream, centrato sui piccoli difetti degli individui e sui piccoli inconvenienti della vita, che prende in giro con leggerezza l'organizzazione sociale senza mai n茅 metterne in dubbio le fondamenta n茅 evidenziarne davvero le contraddizioni, 猫 perfetto per dare al pubblico una parvenza di satira sociale intrisa della bonomia di uno sguardo indulgente. Cos矛, Loro ed io affronta un tema di grande importanza, quello del rapporto tra padre e figli in un'epoca che inizia a vedere profonde smagliature nel rigido moralismo gerarchico dell'et脿 vittoriana, restando tuttavia avvolto in un universo di rapporti che 鈥� sia pure in alcuni casi trattato con una certa problematicit脿 鈥� finisce per rimanere del tutto convenzionale. Loro e io 猫 infatti un romanzo che dietro e oltre il genere comico si propone un compito morale, esattamente come Tre uomini in barca era stato originariamente scritto per essere una guida alla scoperta del Tamigi: il compito morale di Loro e io 猫 quello di far riflettere i genitori britannici dell'epoca sulla natura del rapporto con i loro figli. Nel romanzo si assiste infatti ad una evoluzione del rapporto del protagonista con i tre figli. All'inizio questo 猫 infatti conflittuale, ed i figli sono descritti dal protagonista, che non dimentichiamolo narra in prima persona, come dei rompiscatole con i quali di fatto non c'猫 comunicazione. Ciascuno dei tre vorrebbe utilizzare la nuova casa per le proprie esigenze, che sono in contrasto sia con quelle dei genitori sia con quelle dei fratelli. La vita in campagna per貌, con i suoi imprevisti e i suoi inconvenienti, cambia profondamente i rapporti tra i protagonisti. I figli si responsabilizzano, anche se ciascuno a modo suo, e tra i fratelli si fa strada un sottile filo di solidariet脿 reciproca. Ma sono i rapporti con il padre che cambiano drasticamente, perch茅 in lui si fa strada la coscienza della necessit脿 di ascoltare i figli, di stabilire un rapporto paritario con loro. Negli ultimi capitoli del libro, infatti, sono contenuti lunghi dialoghi tra padre e figli, fra i quali spiccano prima quello con la piccola Veronica, durante il quale il padre riconosce i torti del mondo degli adulti nei confronti della psicologia infantile, quindi i colloqui sull'amore con i figli pi霉 grandi, che contengono tra l'altro l'unica storia triste del romanzo.
Traspare quindi nel romanzo un intento educativo, ed in qualche modo si pu貌 anche dire che, mettendo in dubbio l'assoluta autorit脿 paterna, indubbiamente uno dei cardini della societ脿 dell'epoca, il romanzo giochi tale intento anche con un certo coraggio.
Come detto, per貌, il romanzo non riesce ad uscire dai binari di una convenzionalit脿 di fondo. I due figli maggiori vanno incontro a ruoli sociali di fatto predeterminati dal loro sesso: cos矛 mentre Dick deve scegliere se continuare negli svogliati studi o dedicarsi all'agricoltura, essendo comunque il portatore di un futuro produttivo, la scelta che si presenta a Robina 猫 di fatto quella tra lo sposarsi e il non sposarsi mai che rivendica come atto di ribellione. Cos矛, per rimanere in tema di rapporto tra i generi, il ruolo della donna, con la parziale eccezione della giovane Janie, 猫 quello di supporto al capofamiglia, come ben esemplificato anche dalla marginalit脿 che nel romanzo assume la moglie del protagonista. Naturalmente, infine, l'amore che spesso viene evocato in relazione ai due figli maggiori non ha nulla di fisico, 猫 puro sentimento idealizzato.
A mio avviso il personaggio pi霉 fresco e pi霉 sovversivo del romanzo 猫 Veronica, la pi霉 piccola dei figli del narratore, capace di mandare in crisi l'autorit脿 genitoriale pi霉 degli ormai incanalati fratelli maggiori. 脠 lei che emblematicamente fa esplodere la cucina di casa, ed 猫 sempre lei che in qualche modo contesta il ruolo del padre sul suo stesso terreno, scrivendo un'opera teatrale nella quale i bambini hanno il potere e educano i loro adulti. In uno dei capitoli finali del libro 猫 citato J. M. Barrie, l'autore di Peter Pan (che all'epoca era stato pubblicato da cinque anni), e credo si possa azzardare che l'opera di Barrie, la sua capacit脿 di interpretare il mondo infantile, abbia in qualche modo influito sulla caratterizzazione di questo personaggio di Jerome.
Per concludere, la lettura di questo romanzo poco conosciuto di Jerome Klapka Jerome mi ha lasciato impressioni contrastanti. Da un lato Loro e io 猫 senza dubbio un romanzo di genere, una garbata critica all'incapacit脿 dei genitori di dialogare e comprendere le esigenze dei figli, accompagnata anche da una bonaria satira della visione convenzionale che la borghesia urbana inglese aveva della campagna, rivolto ad un pubblico che voleva sorridere di s茅 stesso e dei suoi piccoli difetti senza per貌 che ci貌 mettesse in discussione le basi del suo essere sociale ed etico. 脠 per貌 anche un libro che, pur giocando un ruolo complessivo di strumento di rassicurazione del suo pubblico, ha il coraggio di toccare alcuni temi importanti, ed il sorriso che accompagna la sua lettura a volte sveste i panni dell'indulgenza per farsi un poco pi霉 affilato.
September 11, 2023
Como Mi familia y otros animales, de Gerald Durrell, pero casi sin animales (no humanos) y con un mont贸n de digresiones humor铆sticas.
L谩stima que en los tres 煤ltimos cap铆tulos (de doce) caiga en un moralismo algo cursi y desfasado a cuenta del tema del matrimonio (hombres vs. mujeres circa 1909), porque hasta entonces me hab铆a parecido muy divertido, fresco y entonado.
Apuesto a que tambi茅n arranc贸 carcajadas a Durrell.
L谩stima que en los tres 煤ltimos cap铆tulos (de doce) caiga en un moralismo algo cursi y desfasado a cuenta del tema del matrimonio (hombres vs. mujeres circa 1909), porque hasta entonces me hab铆a parecido muy divertido, fresco y entonado.
Apuesto a que tambi茅n arranc贸 carcajadas a Durrell.
February 3, 2014
I started and finished this book today and I laughed the whole way through it! Jerome K Jerome has for sure made his place on my favorite author list! If you like and understand witty British humor, you will enjoy this book!
August 16, 2020
Having just begun and read the first chapter, not only very hilarious but also very relaxing, as one proceeds to the next, one wonders suddenly if the BBC sitcom Outnumbered was inspired by this work of Jerome K. Jerome written close to a century before it aired. Not that it's dialogues or anything that literal, but it's the general theme of a parent dealing with children, not quite master of the situation, and yet not feeling a failure, but quite human.
Soon, though, the doubt is dispelled - this isn't exactly about the theme familiar in Outnumbered, although the germ, or a seed, is there. One could say it's about the family shifting from very much city to quite country, but this book is really the quintessential Jerome K. Jerome as he wanders into whatever comes to mind, and is so hilarious that one can only split sides and relax before one knows it.
The protagonist seems to be an author, and one wonders if this is autobiographical at all. He's just bought a house away from city, after having looked at several in various districts from Dorset to Essex, in vicinity of Bristol channel, and the older daughter Robina is enthusiastic about a country life for the three of them, herself and her siblings Dick and Veronica.
Off they go to begin the idyllic country life.
............
"It was the cow that woke me the first morning. I did not know it was our cow鈥攏ot at the time. I didn't know we had a cow. I looked at my watch; it was half-past two. ... "
" ... I was on the point of dozing off again when a pair of pigeons settled on the window-sill and began to coo. It is a pretty sound when you are in the mood for it. I wrote a poem once鈥攁 simple thing, but instinct with longing鈥攚hile sitting under a tree and listening to the cooing of a pigeon. But that was in the afternoon. My only longing now was for a gun. Three times I got out of bed and "shoo'd" them away. The third time I remained by the window till I had got it firmly into their heads that I really did not want them. My behaviour on the former two occasions they had evidently judged to be mere playfulness. I had just got back to bed again when an owl began to screech. That is another sound I used to think attractive鈥攕o weird, so mysterious. It is Swinburne, I think, who says that you never get the desired one and the time and the place all right together. If the beloved one is with you, it is the wrong place or at the wrong time; and if the time and the place happen to be right, then it is the party that is wrong. The owl was all right: I like owls. The place was all right. He had struck the wrong time, that was all. Eleven o'clock at night, when you can't see him, and naturally feel that you want to, is the proper time for an owl. Perched on the roof of a cow-shed in the early dawn he looks silly. He clung there, flapping his wings and screeching at the top of his voice. What it was he wanted I am sure I don't know; and anyhow it didn't seem the way to get it. He came to this conclusion himself at the end of twenty minutes, and shut himself up and went home. I thought I was going to have at last some peace, when a corncrake鈥攁 creature upon whom Nature has bestowed a song like to the tearing of calico-sheets mingled with the sharpening of saws鈥攕ettled somewhere in the garden and set to work to praise its Maker according to its lights. I have a friend, a poet, who lives just off the Strand, and spends his evenings at the Garrick Club. He writes occasional verse for the evening papers, and talks about the "silent country, drowsy with the weight of languors." One of these times I'll lure him down for a Saturday to Monday and let him find out what the country really is鈥攍et him hear it. He is becoming too much of a dreamer: it will do him good, wake him up a bit. The corncrake after awhile stopped quite suddenly with a jerk, and for quite five minutes there was silence.
""If this continues for another five," I said to myself, "I'll be asleep." I felt it coming over me. I had hardly murmured the words when the cow turned up again. I should say she had been somewhere and had had a drink. She was in better voice than ever.
"It occurred to me that this would be an opportunity to make a few notes on the sunrise. The literary man is looked to for occasional description of the sunrise. The earnest reader who has heard about this sunrise thirsts for full particulars. Myself, for purposes of observation, I have generally chosen December or the early part of January. But one never knows. Maybe one of these days I'll want a summer sunrise, with birds and dew-besprinkled flowers: it goes well with the rustic heroine, the miller's daughter, or the girl who brings up chickens and has dreams. I met a brother author once at seven o'clock in the morning in Kensington Gardens. He looked half asleep and so disagreeable that I hesitated for awhile to speak to him: he is a man that as a rule breakfasts at eleven. But I summoned my courage and accosted him.
""This is early for you," I said.
""It's early for anyone but a born fool," he answered.
""What's the matter?" I asked. "Can't you sleep?"
""Can't I sleep?" he retorted indignantly. "Why, I daren't sit down upon a seat, I daren't lean up against a tree. If I did I'd be asleep in half a second."
""What's the idea?" I persisted. "Been reading Smiles's 'Self Help and the Secret of Success'? Don't be absurd," I advised him. "You'll be going to Sunday school next and keeping a diary. You have left it too late: we don't reform at forty. Go home and go to bed." I could see he was doing himself no good.
""I'm going to bed," he answered, "I'm going to bed for a month when I've finished this confounded novel that I'm on. Take my advice," he said鈥攈e laid his hand upon my shoulder鈥�"Never choose a colonial girl for your heroine. At our age it is simple madness.""
............
"Young Bute told me that a friend of his, a well-to-do young fellow, who lived in Piccadilly, had had the whim to make his flat the reproduction of a Roman villa. There were of course no fires, the rooms were warmed by hot air from the kitchen. They had a cheerless aspect on a November afternoon, and nobody knew exactly where to sit. Light was obtained in the evening from Grecian lamps, which made it easy to understand why the ancient Athenians, as a rule, went to bed early. You dined sprawling on a couch. This was no doubt practicable when you took your plate into your hand and fed yourself with your fingers; but with a knife and fork the meal had all the advantages of a hot picnic. You did not feel luxurious or even wicked: you only felt nervous about your clothes. The thing lacked completeness. He could not expect his friends to come to him in Roman togas, and even his own man declined firmly to wear the costume of a Roman slave. The compromise was unsatisfactory, even from the purely pictorial point of view. You cannot be a Roman patrician of the time of Antoninus when you happen to live in Piccadilly at the opening of the twentieth century. All you can do is to make your friends uncomfortable and spoil their dinner for them. Young Bute said that, so far as he was concerned, he would always rather have spent the evening with his little nephews and nieces, playing at horses; it seemed to him a more sensible game."
............
"Algy is four; till last year he was always called the baby. Now, of course, there is no excuse; but the name still clings to him in spite of his indignant protestations. Father called upstairs to him the other day: 'Baby, bring me down my gaiters.' He walked straight up to the cradle and woke up the baby. 'Get up,' I heard him say鈥擨 was just outside the door鈥�'and take your father down his gaiters. Don't you hear him calling you?' He is a droll little fellow. Father took him to Oxford last Saturday. He is small for his age. The ticket- collector, quite contented, threw him a glance, and merely as a matter of form asked if he was under three. 'No,' he shouted before father could reply; 'I 'sists on being honest. I'se four.' It is father's pet phrase.""
"Father is trying. He loves experiments, and a woman hates experiments. Last year it was bare feet. I daresay it is healthier. But children who have been about in bare feet all the morning鈥攚ell, it isn't pleasant when they sit down to lunch; I don't care what you say. You can't be always washing. He is so unpractical. He was quite angry with mother and myself because we wouldn't. And a man in bare feet looks so ridiculous. This summer it is short hair and no hats; and Sally had such pretty hair. Next year it will be sabots or turbans鈥� something or other suggesting the idea that we've lately escaped from a fair. On Mondays and Thursdays we talk French. We have got a French nurse; and those are the only days in the week on which she doesn't understand a word that's said to her. We can none of us understand father, and that makes him furious. He won't say it in English; he makes a note of it, meaning to tell us on Tuesday or Friday, and then, of course, he forgets, and wonders why we haven't done it. He's the dearest fellow alive. When I think of him as a big boy, then he is charming, and if he really were only a big boy there are times when I would shake him and feel better for it.""
............
Chapter VI begins lackadaisical and meanders a la Jerome K. Jerome - into bordering hilarious. Robins and Veronica say they've lunched, and there is only a little left for father and son, so the latter throws a fit, asking where it all went, since he'd seen the sisters deal with preparations. It's explained when Robina asks him to bring back half a dozen men to deal with the disaster in kitchen.
""He is going to turn over a new leaf;" said Robina:
""I am sure he will make an excellent farmer." "I did not want a farmer," I explained; "I wanted a Prime Minister. Children, Robina, are very disappointing. Veronica is all wrong. I like a mischievous child. I like reading stories of mischievous children: they amuse me. But not the child who puts a pound of gunpowder into a red-hot fire, and escapes with her life by a miracle.""
Next chapters keep the reader simmering at bordering hilarious. Robina convinced her father to go to town for a few days, and Veronica walked with him to the station.
"The trouble about arguing with children is that they will argue too."
Robina wrote:-
""Wildly exaggerated accounts of the affair are flying round the neighbourhood; and my chief fear is that Veronica may discover she is a local celebrity. Your sudden disappearance is supposed to have been heavenward. An old farm labourer who saw you pass on your way to the station speaks of you as 'the ghost of the poor gentleman himself;' and fragments of clothing found anywhere within a radius of two miles are being preserved, I am told, as specimens of your remains. Boots would appear to have been your chief apparel. Seven pairs have already been collected from the surrounding ditches. Among the more public-spirited there is talk of using you to start a local museum.""
The author uses Dick, the young son of the protagonist, for expounding his own views.
............
"Of course we made the usual mistake: they talked to me about books and plays, and I gave them my views on agriculture and cub-hunting. I'm not quite sure what fool it was who described a bore as a man who talked about himself. As a matter of fact it is the only subject the average man knows sufficiently well to make interesting. There's a man I know; he makes a fortune out of a patent food for infants. He began life as a dairy farmer, and hit upon it quite by accident. When he talks about the humours of company promoting and the tricks of the advertising agent he is amusing. I have sat at his table, when he was a bachelor, and listened to him by the hour with enjoyment. The mistake he made was marrying a broad-minded, cultured woman, who ruined him鈥� conversationally, I mean. He is now well-informed and tiresome on most topics. That is why actors and actresses are always such delightful company: they are not ashamed to talk about themselves. I remember a dinner-party once: our host was one of the best-known barristers in London. A famous lady novelist sat on his right, and a scientist of world-wide reputation had the place of honour next our hostess, who herself had written a history of the struggle for nationality in South America that serves as an authority to all the Foreign Offices in Europe. Among the remaining guests were a bishop, the editor-in-chief of a London daily newspaper, a man who knew the interior of China as well as most men know their own club, a Russian revolutionist just escaped from Siberia, a leading dramatist, a Cabinet Minister, and a poet whose name is a household word wherever the English tongue is spoken. And for two hours we sat and listened to a wicked-looking little woman who from the boards of a Bowery music-hall had worked her way up to the position of a star in musical comedy. Education, as she observed herself without regret, had not been compulsory throughout the waterside district of Chicago in her young days; and, compelled to earn her own living from the age of thirteen, opportunity for supplying the original deficiency had been wanting. But she knew her subject, which was Herself鈥攈er experiences, her reminiscences: and bad sense enough to stick to it. Until the moment when she took "the liberty of chipping in," to use her own expression, the amount of twaddle talked had been appalling. The bishop had told us all he had learnt about China during a visit to San Francisco, while the man who had spent the last twenty years of his life in the country was busy explaining his views on the subject of the English drama. Our hostess had been endeavouring to make the scientist feel at home by talking to him about radium. The dramatist had explained at some length his views of the crisis in Russia. The poet had quite spoilt his dinner trying to suggest to the Cabinet Minister new sources of taxation. The Russian revolutionist had told us what ought to have been a funny story about a duck; and the lady novelist and the Cabinet Minister had discussed Christian Science for a quarter of an hour, each under the mistaken impression that the other one was a believer in it. The editor had been explaining the attitude of the Church towards the New Theology; and our host, one of the wittiest men at the Bar, had been talking chiefly to the butler. The relief of listening to anybody talking about something they knew was like finding a match-box to a man who has been barking his shins in the dark. For the rest of the dinner we clung to her."
Chapter X, the conversation between Robina and father, really good!
............
The protagonist worries about his son Dick losing Janie, having until then worried about whom Dick would bring into the family, and recalls the women he had himself fortunately did lose.
"What is one to do? There are ....
Soon, though, the doubt is dispelled - this isn't exactly about the theme familiar in Outnumbered, although the germ, or a seed, is there. One could say it's about the family shifting from very much city to quite country, but this book is really the quintessential Jerome K. Jerome as he wanders into whatever comes to mind, and is so hilarious that one can only split sides and relax before one knows it.
The protagonist seems to be an author, and one wonders if this is autobiographical at all. He's just bought a house away from city, after having looked at several in various districts from Dorset to Essex, in vicinity of Bristol channel, and the older daughter Robina is enthusiastic about a country life for the three of them, herself and her siblings Dick and Veronica.
Off they go to begin the idyllic country life.
............
"It was the cow that woke me the first morning. I did not know it was our cow鈥攏ot at the time. I didn't know we had a cow. I looked at my watch; it was half-past two. ... "
" ... I was on the point of dozing off again when a pair of pigeons settled on the window-sill and began to coo. It is a pretty sound when you are in the mood for it. I wrote a poem once鈥攁 simple thing, but instinct with longing鈥攚hile sitting under a tree and listening to the cooing of a pigeon. But that was in the afternoon. My only longing now was for a gun. Three times I got out of bed and "shoo'd" them away. The third time I remained by the window till I had got it firmly into their heads that I really did not want them. My behaviour on the former two occasions they had evidently judged to be mere playfulness. I had just got back to bed again when an owl began to screech. That is another sound I used to think attractive鈥攕o weird, so mysterious. It is Swinburne, I think, who says that you never get the desired one and the time and the place all right together. If the beloved one is with you, it is the wrong place or at the wrong time; and if the time and the place happen to be right, then it is the party that is wrong. The owl was all right: I like owls. The place was all right. He had struck the wrong time, that was all. Eleven o'clock at night, when you can't see him, and naturally feel that you want to, is the proper time for an owl. Perched on the roof of a cow-shed in the early dawn he looks silly. He clung there, flapping his wings and screeching at the top of his voice. What it was he wanted I am sure I don't know; and anyhow it didn't seem the way to get it. He came to this conclusion himself at the end of twenty minutes, and shut himself up and went home. I thought I was going to have at last some peace, when a corncrake鈥攁 creature upon whom Nature has bestowed a song like to the tearing of calico-sheets mingled with the sharpening of saws鈥攕ettled somewhere in the garden and set to work to praise its Maker according to its lights. I have a friend, a poet, who lives just off the Strand, and spends his evenings at the Garrick Club. He writes occasional verse for the evening papers, and talks about the "silent country, drowsy with the weight of languors." One of these times I'll lure him down for a Saturday to Monday and let him find out what the country really is鈥攍et him hear it. He is becoming too much of a dreamer: it will do him good, wake him up a bit. The corncrake after awhile stopped quite suddenly with a jerk, and for quite five minutes there was silence.
""If this continues for another five," I said to myself, "I'll be asleep." I felt it coming over me. I had hardly murmured the words when the cow turned up again. I should say she had been somewhere and had had a drink. She was in better voice than ever.
"It occurred to me that this would be an opportunity to make a few notes on the sunrise. The literary man is looked to for occasional description of the sunrise. The earnest reader who has heard about this sunrise thirsts for full particulars. Myself, for purposes of observation, I have generally chosen December or the early part of January. But one never knows. Maybe one of these days I'll want a summer sunrise, with birds and dew-besprinkled flowers: it goes well with the rustic heroine, the miller's daughter, or the girl who brings up chickens and has dreams. I met a brother author once at seven o'clock in the morning in Kensington Gardens. He looked half asleep and so disagreeable that I hesitated for awhile to speak to him: he is a man that as a rule breakfasts at eleven. But I summoned my courage and accosted him.
""This is early for you," I said.
""It's early for anyone but a born fool," he answered.
""What's the matter?" I asked. "Can't you sleep?"
""Can't I sleep?" he retorted indignantly. "Why, I daren't sit down upon a seat, I daren't lean up against a tree. If I did I'd be asleep in half a second."
""What's the idea?" I persisted. "Been reading Smiles's 'Self Help and the Secret of Success'? Don't be absurd," I advised him. "You'll be going to Sunday school next and keeping a diary. You have left it too late: we don't reform at forty. Go home and go to bed." I could see he was doing himself no good.
""I'm going to bed," he answered, "I'm going to bed for a month when I've finished this confounded novel that I'm on. Take my advice," he said鈥攈e laid his hand upon my shoulder鈥�"Never choose a colonial girl for your heroine. At our age it is simple madness.""
............
"Young Bute told me that a friend of his, a well-to-do young fellow, who lived in Piccadilly, had had the whim to make his flat the reproduction of a Roman villa. There were of course no fires, the rooms were warmed by hot air from the kitchen. They had a cheerless aspect on a November afternoon, and nobody knew exactly where to sit. Light was obtained in the evening from Grecian lamps, which made it easy to understand why the ancient Athenians, as a rule, went to bed early. You dined sprawling on a couch. This was no doubt practicable when you took your plate into your hand and fed yourself with your fingers; but with a knife and fork the meal had all the advantages of a hot picnic. You did not feel luxurious or even wicked: you only felt nervous about your clothes. The thing lacked completeness. He could not expect his friends to come to him in Roman togas, and even his own man declined firmly to wear the costume of a Roman slave. The compromise was unsatisfactory, even from the purely pictorial point of view. You cannot be a Roman patrician of the time of Antoninus when you happen to live in Piccadilly at the opening of the twentieth century. All you can do is to make your friends uncomfortable and spoil their dinner for them. Young Bute said that, so far as he was concerned, he would always rather have spent the evening with his little nephews and nieces, playing at horses; it seemed to him a more sensible game."
............
"Algy is four; till last year he was always called the baby. Now, of course, there is no excuse; but the name still clings to him in spite of his indignant protestations. Father called upstairs to him the other day: 'Baby, bring me down my gaiters.' He walked straight up to the cradle and woke up the baby. 'Get up,' I heard him say鈥擨 was just outside the door鈥�'and take your father down his gaiters. Don't you hear him calling you?' He is a droll little fellow. Father took him to Oxford last Saturday. He is small for his age. The ticket- collector, quite contented, threw him a glance, and merely as a matter of form asked if he was under three. 'No,' he shouted before father could reply; 'I 'sists on being honest. I'se four.' It is father's pet phrase.""
"Father is trying. He loves experiments, and a woman hates experiments. Last year it was bare feet. I daresay it is healthier. But children who have been about in bare feet all the morning鈥攚ell, it isn't pleasant when they sit down to lunch; I don't care what you say. You can't be always washing. He is so unpractical. He was quite angry with mother and myself because we wouldn't. And a man in bare feet looks so ridiculous. This summer it is short hair and no hats; and Sally had such pretty hair. Next year it will be sabots or turbans鈥� something or other suggesting the idea that we've lately escaped from a fair. On Mondays and Thursdays we talk French. We have got a French nurse; and those are the only days in the week on which she doesn't understand a word that's said to her. We can none of us understand father, and that makes him furious. He won't say it in English; he makes a note of it, meaning to tell us on Tuesday or Friday, and then, of course, he forgets, and wonders why we haven't done it. He's the dearest fellow alive. When I think of him as a big boy, then he is charming, and if he really were only a big boy there are times when I would shake him and feel better for it.""
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Chapter VI begins lackadaisical and meanders a la Jerome K. Jerome - into bordering hilarious. Robins and Veronica say they've lunched, and there is only a little left for father and son, so the latter throws a fit, asking where it all went, since he'd seen the sisters deal with preparations. It's explained when Robina asks him to bring back half a dozen men to deal with the disaster in kitchen.
""He is going to turn over a new leaf;" said Robina:
""I am sure he will make an excellent farmer." "I did not want a farmer," I explained; "I wanted a Prime Minister. Children, Robina, are very disappointing. Veronica is all wrong. I like a mischievous child. I like reading stories of mischievous children: they amuse me. But not the child who puts a pound of gunpowder into a red-hot fire, and escapes with her life by a miracle.""
Next chapters keep the reader simmering at bordering hilarious. Robina convinced her father to go to town for a few days, and Veronica walked with him to the station.
"The trouble about arguing with children is that they will argue too."
Robina wrote:-
""Wildly exaggerated accounts of the affair are flying round the neighbourhood; and my chief fear is that Veronica may discover she is a local celebrity. Your sudden disappearance is supposed to have been heavenward. An old farm labourer who saw you pass on your way to the station speaks of you as 'the ghost of the poor gentleman himself;' and fragments of clothing found anywhere within a radius of two miles are being preserved, I am told, as specimens of your remains. Boots would appear to have been your chief apparel. Seven pairs have already been collected from the surrounding ditches. Among the more public-spirited there is talk of using you to start a local museum.""
The author uses Dick, the young son of the protagonist, for expounding his own views.
............
"Of course we made the usual mistake: they talked to me about books and plays, and I gave them my views on agriculture and cub-hunting. I'm not quite sure what fool it was who described a bore as a man who talked about himself. As a matter of fact it is the only subject the average man knows sufficiently well to make interesting. There's a man I know; he makes a fortune out of a patent food for infants. He began life as a dairy farmer, and hit upon it quite by accident. When he talks about the humours of company promoting and the tricks of the advertising agent he is amusing. I have sat at his table, when he was a bachelor, and listened to him by the hour with enjoyment. The mistake he made was marrying a broad-minded, cultured woman, who ruined him鈥� conversationally, I mean. He is now well-informed and tiresome on most topics. That is why actors and actresses are always such delightful company: they are not ashamed to talk about themselves. I remember a dinner-party once: our host was one of the best-known barristers in London. A famous lady novelist sat on his right, and a scientist of world-wide reputation had the place of honour next our hostess, who herself had written a history of the struggle for nationality in South America that serves as an authority to all the Foreign Offices in Europe. Among the remaining guests were a bishop, the editor-in-chief of a London daily newspaper, a man who knew the interior of China as well as most men know their own club, a Russian revolutionist just escaped from Siberia, a leading dramatist, a Cabinet Minister, and a poet whose name is a household word wherever the English tongue is spoken. And for two hours we sat and listened to a wicked-looking little woman who from the boards of a Bowery music-hall had worked her way up to the position of a star in musical comedy. Education, as she observed herself without regret, had not been compulsory throughout the waterside district of Chicago in her young days; and, compelled to earn her own living from the age of thirteen, opportunity for supplying the original deficiency had been wanting. But she knew her subject, which was Herself鈥攈er experiences, her reminiscences: and bad sense enough to stick to it. Until the moment when she took "the liberty of chipping in," to use her own expression, the amount of twaddle talked had been appalling. The bishop had told us all he had learnt about China during a visit to San Francisco, while the man who had spent the last twenty years of his life in the country was busy explaining his views on the subject of the English drama. Our hostess had been endeavouring to make the scientist feel at home by talking to him about radium. The dramatist had explained at some length his views of the crisis in Russia. The poet had quite spoilt his dinner trying to suggest to the Cabinet Minister new sources of taxation. The Russian revolutionist had told us what ought to have been a funny story about a duck; and the lady novelist and the Cabinet Minister had discussed Christian Science for a quarter of an hour, each under the mistaken impression that the other one was a believer in it. The editor had been explaining the attitude of the Church towards the New Theology; and our host, one of the wittiest men at the Bar, had been talking chiefly to the butler. The relief of listening to anybody talking about something they knew was like finding a match-box to a man who has been barking his shins in the dark. For the rest of the dinner we clung to her."
Chapter X, the conversation between Robina and father, really good!
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The protagonist worries about his son Dick losing Janie, having until then worried about whom Dick would bring into the family, and recalls the women he had himself fortunately did lose.
"What is one to do? There are ....
June 4, 2016
Es algo irregular aunque tiene momentos divertid铆simos.
May 19, 2020
It was difficult to stop remembering Jerome鈥檚 writing in Three Men in a Boat and Three men on the Bummel, because this book is different, deeper and shows more of his personality, also more serious. But it is possible I felt this way because I鈥檝e read the first two 20 years ago...
March 14, 2017
D铆lo lze pojmout jako voln茅 pokra膷ov谩n铆 knihy Kdepak je m谩 kravi膷ka?. Kravi膷ka je toti啪 nalezena a p艡铆tomnost ohl谩s铆 pom臎rn臎 intenzivn铆m bu膷en铆m pod oknem ve t艡i r谩no. Od t茅 chv铆le se dosud p艡铆jemn茅, av拧ak nikoliv zas tak v媒jime膷n茅 vypr谩v臎n铆 m臎n铆 v hodn臎 legrace. Ale kon膷铆 to podle mne dost zvl谩拧tn臎.
April 13, 2015
Una delicia.
Humorismo amable e ir贸nico. Novela sin argumento definido m谩s all谩 del d铆a a d铆a de una peculiar familia.
Las ir贸nicas tensiones entre literatura y vida, entre lo literario y lo real. Un retrato divertido de las contradicciones del escritor de humor.
Un peque帽o y estupendo cl谩sico.
Humorismo amable e ir贸nico. Novela sin argumento definido m谩s all谩 del d铆a a d铆a de una peculiar familia.
Las ir贸nicas tensiones entre literatura y vida, entre lo literario y lo real. Un retrato divertido de las contradicciones del escritor de humor.
Un peque帽o y estupendo cl谩sico.
January 7, 2016
3.5
Sempre divertente leggere Jerome. Un libro leggero, ma non troppo; piacevole e interessante. Dietro l'ironia Jerome semina costantemente insegnamenti e consigli per tutta la durata del racconto, consigli che spaziano dai pi霉 svariati argomenti: amore, matrimonio, editoria, ecc...
Sempre divertente leggere Jerome. Un libro leggero, ma non troppo; piacevole e interessante. Dietro l'ironia Jerome semina costantemente insegnamenti e consigli per tutta la durata del racconto, consigli che spaziano dai pi霉 svariati argomenti: amore, matrimonio, editoria, ecc...
October 1, 2009
And it just kept going...and going...and going. Outside of a few great one-liners, it was not worth the time.
January 8, 2018
Omul tare caut膬 din instinct societatea celor care ii sunt superiori, fiind curios sa afle ceea ce ignora.
August 21, 2018
Jerome K Jerome gives you his thoughts on moving to the country, among other things.
March 18, 2024
By no means a classic Jerome K Jerome offering so I鈥檓 rounding this rating up. Still a nice mix of characters, loose plot, funny set pieces and philosophical elements. This felt more cohesive than some of the other novels of his I鈥檝e read but even so the context is really just there to link together the anecdotes. For my money the very first one regarding billiards is the best part of the book - that bit in particular is definitely classic Jerome K Jerome and had me laughing out loud.
March 16, 2025
As usual a humorous read, but also including surprisingly deeply thoughtful (more so than the usual) and poetic conversations about life and work which lent a perfect balance. Might as well declare this his magnum opus imho
Shelved as 'dnf'
August 13, 2020Dnf. Not a fan of the LibriVox narrator
October 3, 2014
Var膿tu dom膩t, ka 拧o darbu D啪eroms rakst墨jis, kam膿r kreditori klauv膿ju拧i pie durv墨m. Ne mi艈as no D啪eromam rakstur墨g膩 humora, kas vislab膩k par膩d膩s Tr墨s v墨ros laiv膩 un mazliet ieskanas ar墨 darb膩 Tr墨s v墨ri uz vellap膿da. Vil拧an膩s.
April 27, 2017
Jeho styl humoru je jedine膷n媒 a op臎t nezklamal. Jen zklamala anotace. Jako v啪dy jsem o膷ek谩vala tro拧ku jinou knihu. Z p艡estavby domu tam toho moc nebylo.
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