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Review: Tom Jones
May. 25th, 2011 11:16 pmI don't know how I came to own this book, which I knew nothing about before I started reading it, but in order to declutter, I decided to read Henry Fielding's The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling aka Tom Jones. This is a classic written in 1749. It had lots of long sentences that didn't feel at all like modern writing, but it was much easier for me to understand than Shakespeare, and it kept surprising me. For example, he used the word "blockhead." Who knew the word was that old? And he said that you shouldn't make your daughter marry someone she didn't want to marry because that was tantamount to prostitution or rape. In 1748? Wow.
It took me a while to decide whether he was being funny on purpose or by accident, since I know very little about life in the mid 1700s. For example, he keeps calling his novel a history and apologizing for some of the things he had to tell us, but he has to tell us what actually happened. My research hints that "histories" were often fictional back in the day, and his was actually one of the first novels ever written. So, at least some of this humor may have been accidental.
On the other hand, he toys with character names. (For example, the hero's two teachers are Mr. Thwackum and Mr. Square; and yes, Thwackum's the one who enjoyed beatings. I'm wondering if "Blifil" has some meaning I'm missing.)
And, back in those days, chapters used to have titles. He was definitely having fun with some of these:
* Book I, Chapter 7: Containing such grave matter that the reader cannot laugh once through the whole chapter, unless peradventure he should laugh at the author
* Book III, Chapter 4: Containing a necessary apology for the author, and a childish incident, which perhaps requires an apology likewise
* Book IV, Chapter 1: Containing five pages of paper
* Book VII, Chapter 14: A most dreadful chapter indeed, and which few readers ought to venture upon in an evening, especially when alone
* Book XVII, Chapter 5: In which the history is continued
* Book XVII, Chapter 6: In which the history is farther continued
* Book XVII, Chapter 7: Continuation of the history
* Book XVII, Chapter 8: Further continuation of the history
* Book XVII, Chapter 9: A further continuation of the history
* Book XVII, Chapter 10: Wherein the story begins to draw towards a conclusion
* Book XVII, Chapter 11: The history draws nearer to a conclusion
After a while I started to realize that the first chapter of each book is my least favorite. And then chapter 1 of book V begins thus:
"Peradventure there may be no parts in this prodigious work which will give the reader less pleasure in perusing than those which have given the author the greatest pains in composing. Among these, probably, may be reckoned those initial essays which we have prefixed to the historical matter contained in every book, and which we have determined to be essentially necessary to this kind of writing...."
And he ends that chapter with this:
"In this light, then, or rather in this darkness, I would have the reader to consider these initial essays. And after this warning, if he shall be of opinion that he can find enough of serious in other parts of this history, he may pass over these, in which we profess to be laboriously dull, and begin the following books at the second chapter."
Seriously, he stated that all the first chapters are boring and recommended that we skip them.
A high school English teacher once told my class that even the greatest books are not great in every area: plot, character development, and two more I don't remember, something like theme and setting. To this day I think of books and movies as being best in one of four areas:
* characters - Who are we meeting? Are they interesting? Do we like them? Commonly the characters are best part of "talky" movies and romantic comedies.
* plot - What's happening - especially seen in murder mysteries and thrillers.
* setting - Where are we and what's it like here? Commonly emphasized in sci fi and in romance books set in exotic locales. I think good movie special effects may also go in this category.
* writing style - what I think of as making books fun to read aloud and movies fun to quote.
This book has fairly two-dimensional characters, though Fielding goes out of his way to make sure the heroes aren't at all perfect. The plot is twisty and convoluted but a little too comparable to slapstick humor for my tastes. It has that thing that drives me nuts in Shakespeare and some sitcoms which is that things take a lot longer than they have to because of misunderstandings. My favorite part was the writing style (in some parts; in other parts, it would put me to sleep). And so I've felt the need to include a bunch of quotes so you can get a good feel for the book.
(Leaving out the spoilery names): "[Person X] then departed and left [person Y] in a situation to be envied only by a man who is just going to be hanged." (book XVIII, ch 8, p. 823)
I know I'm missing lots of his humor by living in a different time, but some of it is obvious even to me:
"...the act of eating, which hath by several wise men been considered as extremely mean and derogatory from the philosophic dignity, must be in some measure performed by the greatest prince, hero, or philosopher upon earth; nay, sometimes Nature hath been so frolicsome as to exact of these dignified characters a much more exorbitant share of this office than she hath obliged those of the lowest order to perform.
"...Now, after this short preface, we think it no disparagement to our hero to mention the immoderate ardour with which he laid about him at this season. Indeed it may be doubted whether Ulysses, who by the way seems to have had the best stomach of all the heroes in that eating poem of the Odyssey, ever made a better meal. Three pounds at least of that flesh which formerly had contributed to the composition of an ox was now honored with becoming part of the individual Mr. Jones." (book IX, chapter 5, p. 427)
He often talks about writing and about how writing should be done as well as other meta matters:
"At length we are once more come to our hero, and to say truth, we have been obliged to part with him so long that considering the condition in which we left him, I apprehend many of our readers have concluded we intended to abandon him forever, he being at present in that situation in which prudent people usually desist from inquiring any farther after their friends lest they should be shocked by hearing such friends had hanged themselves." (Chapter 3, p. 531)
He also likes to talk directly to his critics and his other readers.
Book X, Chapter 1, Containing instructions very necessary to be perused by modern critics
"Reader, it is impossible we should know what sort of person thou wilt be, for, perhaps, thou may'st be as learned in human nature as Shakespeare himself was, and, perhaps, thou may'st be no wiser than some of his editors. Now, lest this latter should be the case, we think proper before we go any farther together to give thee a few wholesome admonitions, that thou may'st not as grossly misunderstand and misrepresent us as some of the said editors have misunderstood and misrepresented their author.
"First, then, we warn thee not too hastily to condemn any of the incidents in this our history as impertinent and foreign to our main design because thou dost not immediately conceive in what manner such incident may conduce to that design. This work may, indeed, be considered as a great creation of our own, and for a little reptile of a critic to presume to find fault with any of its part without knowing the manner in which the whole is connected, and before he comes to the final catastrophe, is a most presumptuous absurdity. ...
"Another caution we would give thee, my good reptile, is ..."
Heh, he called me a reptile!
He likes to give us advice in the middle of the storyline:
"Mr. Allworthy had been for some days indisposed with a cold, which had been attended with a little fever. This he had, however, neglected, as it was usual with him to do all manner of disorders which did not confine him to his bed or prevent his several faculties from performing their ordinary functions--a conduct which we would by no means be thought to approve or recommend to imitation; for surely the gentlemen of the AEsculapian art are in the right in advising that the moment the disease is entered at one door, the physician should be introduced at the other. What else is meant by that old adage Venienti occurrite morbo?? "Oppose a distemper at its first approach." Thus the doctor and the disease meet in fair and equal conflict; whereas by giving time to the latter we often suffer him to fortify and entrench himself like a French army, so that the learned gentleman finds it very difficult, and sometimes impossible, to come at the enemy. Agreeable to these observations was, I remember, the complaint of the great Doctor Misaubin, who used very pathetically to lament the late applications which were made to his skill, saying, "Bygar, me believe my pation take me for de undertaker; for dey never send for me till de physicion have kill dem." (book V, ch. 7, pp. 201-202).
He even addressed an issue I've been thinking about. How much should one donate to those in need or to charitable causes? I wanted a compromise between spending all my money on myself and giving away as much as possible while still being able to cover my own basic needs. I settled on a level of compromise which, while obviously too low, is above the average in my culture. Here's what Henry Fielding has to say about this issue:
"I have in truth observed, and shall never have a better opportunity than at present to communicate my observation, that the world are in general divided into two opinions concerning charity, which are the very reverse of each other. One party seems to hold that all the acts of this kind are to be esteemed as voluntary gifts, and however little you give (if indeed no more than your good wishes), you acquire a great degree of merit in so doing. Others, on the contrary, appear to be as firmly persuaded that beneficence is a positive duty, and that whenever the rich fall greatly short of their ability in relieving the distresses of the poor, their pitiful largesses are so far from being meritorious that they have only performed their duty by halves and are in some sense more contemptible than those who have entirely neglected it. [Note: XKCD gives an illustration.]
"To reconcile these different opinions is not in my power. I shall only add that the givers are generally of the former sentiment, and the receivers are almost universally inclined to the latter."
Wow. Harsh.
After a very long while, I was pleased to notice that I was almost done with the book. But then I noticed I still had over 120 pages left to read. Sixty-two pages from the end, the first chapter of the last book begins this way:
"We are now, reader, arrived at the last stage of our long journey. As we have therefore travelled together through so many pages, let us behave to one another like fellow-travellers in a stage-coach who have passed several days in the company of each other, and who, notwithstanding any bickerings or little animosities which may have occurred on the road, generally make all up at last and mount for the last time into their vehicle with cheerfulness and good humour; since after this one stage it may possibly happen to us, as it commonly happens to them, never to meet more." (Book XVIII, Chapter 1, p. 789).
When I read this I knew he was right. I was never reading this book again. It was oddly sad.
(Since that time, I've been told that his book Joseph Andrews (1742) is even better, so I think I will be traveling with him one more time after all.)
In sum: funny, enriching, tiresome.
It took me a while to decide whether he was being funny on purpose or by accident, since I know very little about life in the mid 1700s. For example, he keeps calling his novel a history and apologizing for some of the things he had to tell us, but he has to tell us what actually happened. My research hints that "histories" were often fictional back in the day, and his was actually one of the first novels ever written. So, at least some of this humor may have been accidental.
On the other hand, he toys with character names. (For example, the hero's two teachers are Mr. Thwackum and Mr. Square; and yes, Thwackum's the one who enjoyed beatings. I'm wondering if "Blifil" has some meaning I'm missing.)
And, back in those days, chapters used to have titles. He was definitely having fun with some of these:
* Book I, Chapter 7: Containing such grave matter that the reader cannot laugh once through the whole chapter, unless peradventure he should laugh at the author
* Book III, Chapter 4: Containing a necessary apology for the author, and a childish incident, which perhaps requires an apology likewise
* Book IV, Chapter 1: Containing five pages of paper
* Book VII, Chapter 14: A most dreadful chapter indeed, and which few readers ought to venture upon in an evening, especially when alone
* Book XVII, Chapter 5: In which the history is continued
* Book XVII, Chapter 6: In which the history is farther continued
* Book XVII, Chapter 7: Continuation of the history
* Book XVII, Chapter 8: Further continuation of the history
* Book XVII, Chapter 9: A further continuation of the history
* Book XVII, Chapter 10: Wherein the story begins to draw towards a conclusion
* Book XVII, Chapter 11: The history draws nearer to a conclusion
After a while I started to realize that the first chapter of each book is my least favorite. And then chapter 1 of book V begins thus:
"Peradventure there may be no parts in this prodigious work which will give the reader less pleasure in perusing than those which have given the author the greatest pains in composing. Among these, probably, may be reckoned those initial essays which we have prefixed to the historical matter contained in every book, and which we have determined to be essentially necessary to this kind of writing...."
And he ends that chapter with this:
"In this light, then, or rather in this darkness, I would have the reader to consider these initial essays. And after this warning, if he shall be of opinion that he can find enough of serious in other parts of this history, he may pass over these, in which we profess to be laboriously dull, and begin the following books at the second chapter."
Seriously, he stated that all the first chapters are boring and recommended that we skip them.
A high school English teacher once told my class that even the greatest books are not great in every area: plot, character development, and two more I don't remember, something like theme and setting. To this day I think of books and movies as being best in one of four areas:
* characters - Who are we meeting? Are they interesting? Do we like them? Commonly the characters are best part of "talky" movies and romantic comedies.
* plot - What's happening - especially seen in murder mysteries and thrillers.
* setting - Where are we and what's it like here? Commonly emphasized in sci fi and in romance books set in exotic locales. I think good movie special effects may also go in this category.
* writing style - what I think of as making books fun to read aloud and movies fun to quote.
This book has fairly two-dimensional characters, though Fielding goes out of his way to make sure the heroes aren't at all perfect. The plot is twisty and convoluted but a little too comparable to slapstick humor for my tastes. It has that thing that drives me nuts in Shakespeare and some sitcoms which is that things take a lot longer than they have to because of misunderstandings. My favorite part was the writing style (in some parts; in other parts, it would put me to sleep). And so I've felt the need to include a bunch of quotes so you can get a good feel for the book.
(Leaving out the spoilery names): "[Person X] then departed and left [person Y] in a situation to be envied only by a man who is just going to be hanged." (book XVIII, ch 8, p. 823)
I know I'm missing lots of his humor by living in a different time, but some of it is obvious even to me:
"...the act of eating, which hath by several wise men been considered as extremely mean and derogatory from the philosophic dignity, must be in some measure performed by the greatest prince, hero, or philosopher upon earth; nay, sometimes Nature hath been so frolicsome as to exact of these dignified characters a much more exorbitant share of this office than she hath obliged those of the lowest order to perform.
"...Now, after this short preface, we think it no disparagement to our hero to mention the immoderate ardour with which he laid about him at this season. Indeed it may be doubted whether Ulysses, who by the way seems to have had the best stomach of all the heroes in that eating poem of the Odyssey, ever made a better meal. Three pounds at least of that flesh which formerly had contributed to the composition of an ox was now honored with becoming part of the individual Mr. Jones." (book IX, chapter 5, p. 427)
He often talks about writing and about how writing should be done as well as other meta matters:
"At length we are once more come to our hero, and to say truth, we have been obliged to part with him so long that considering the condition in which we left him, I apprehend many of our readers have concluded we intended to abandon him forever, he being at present in that situation in which prudent people usually desist from inquiring any farther after their friends lest they should be shocked by hearing such friends had hanged themselves." (Chapter 3, p. 531)
He also likes to talk directly to his critics and his other readers.
Book X, Chapter 1, Containing instructions very necessary to be perused by modern critics
"Reader, it is impossible we should know what sort of person thou wilt be, for, perhaps, thou may'st be as learned in human nature as Shakespeare himself was, and, perhaps, thou may'st be no wiser than some of his editors. Now, lest this latter should be the case, we think proper before we go any farther together to give thee a few wholesome admonitions, that thou may'st not as grossly misunderstand and misrepresent us as some of the said editors have misunderstood and misrepresented their author.
"First, then, we warn thee not too hastily to condemn any of the incidents in this our history as impertinent and foreign to our main design because thou dost not immediately conceive in what manner such incident may conduce to that design. This work may, indeed, be considered as a great creation of our own, and for a little reptile of a critic to presume to find fault with any of its part without knowing the manner in which the whole is connected, and before he comes to the final catastrophe, is a most presumptuous absurdity. ...
"Another caution we would give thee, my good reptile, is ..."
Heh, he called me a reptile!
He likes to give us advice in the middle of the storyline:
"Mr. Allworthy had been for some days indisposed with a cold, which had been attended with a little fever. This he had, however, neglected, as it was usual with him to do all manner of disorders which did not confine him to his bed or prevent his several faculties from performing their ordinary functions--a conduct which we would by no means be thought to approve or recommend to imitation; for surely the gentlemen of the AEsculapian art are in the right in advising that the moment the disease is entered at one door, the physician should be introduced at the other. What else is meant by that old adage Venienti occurrite morbo?? "Oppose a distemper at its first approach." Thus the doctor and the disease meet in fair and equal conflict; whereas by giving time to the latter we often suffer him to fortify and entrench himself like a French army, so that the learned gentleman finds it very difficult, and sometimes impossible, to come at the enemy. Agreeable to these observations was, I remember, the complaint of the great Doctor Misaubin, who used very pathetically to lament the late applications which were made to his skill, saying, "Bygar, me believe my pation take me for de undertaker; for dey never send for me till de physicion have kill dem." (book V, ch. 7, pp. 201-202).
He even addressed an issue I've been thinking about. How much should one donate to those in need or to charitable causes? I wanted a compromise between spending all my money on myself and giving away as much as possible while still being able to cover my own basic needs. I settled on a level of compromise which, while obviously too low, is above the average in my culture. Here's what Henry Fielding has to say about this issue:
"I have in truth observed, and shall never have a better opportunity than at present to communicate my observation, that the world are in general divided into two opinions concerning charity, which are the very reverse of each other. One party seems to hold that all the acts of this kind are to be esteemed as voluntary gifts, and however little you give (if indeed no more than your good wishes), you acquire a great degree of merit in so doing. Others, on the contrary, appear to be as firmly persuaded that beneficence is a positive duty, and that whenever the rich fall greatly short of their ability in relieving the distresses of the poor, their pitiful largesses are so far from being meritorious that they have only performed their duty by halves and are in some sense more contemptible than those who have entirely neglected it. [Note: XKCD gives an illustration.]
"To reconcile these different opinions is not in my power. I shall only add that the givers are generally of the former sentiment, and the receivers are almost universally inclined to the latter."
Wow. Harsh.
After a very long while, I was pleased to notice that I was almost done with the book. But then I noticed I still had over 120 pages left to read. Sixty-two pages from the end, the first chapter of the last book begins this way:
"We are now, reader, arrived at the last stage of our long journey. As we have therefore travelled together through so many pages, let us behave to one another like fellow-travellers in a stage-coach who have passed several days in the company of each other, and who, notwithstanding any bickerings or little animosities which may have occurred on the road, generally make all up at last and mount for the last time into their vehicle with cheerfulness and good humour; since after this one stage it may possibly happen to us, as it commonly happens to them, never to meet more." (Book XVIII, Chapter 1, p. 789).
When I read this I knew he was right. I was never reading this book again. It was oddly sad.
(Since that time, I've been told that his book Joseph Andrews (1742) is even better, so I think I will be traveling with him one more time after all.)
In sum: funny, enriching, tiresome.