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Anthony Trollope - Autobiography - 1912

by Anthony Trollope

3.79 · rating details · 70 ratings · 10 reviews

It may be well that I should put a short preface to this book. In the summer of 1878 my father told me that he had written a memoir of his own life. He did not speak about it at length, but said that he had written me a letter, not to be opened until after his death, containing instructions for publication. This letter was dated 30th April, 1876. I will give here as much o...more

Paperback, 336 pages

Published August 28th 2006 by Book Jungle (first published December 31st 1883)

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Jul 19, 2010

Sherwood Smith added it · review of another edition

Shelves: autobiography

I don't think this autobiography is going to appeal to non-writers, as Trollope delves not at all into his emotions or private experiences, focusing on his outer life, as it were, as post office official, hobby hunter, sometime politician, and writer. His wife and children get scant mention.

But he talks a great deal about writing. For any writer who likes writers on writing, this ought to be a fascinating read. He gets into details about the frustrations of publishing by serial, and...moreI don't think this autobiography is going to appeal to non-writers, as Trollope delves not at all into his emotions or private experiences, focusing on his outer life, as it were, as post office official, hobby hunter, sometime politician, and writer. His wife and children get scant mention.

But he talks a great deal about writing. For any writer who likes writers on writing, this ought to be a fascinating read. He gets into details about the frustrations of publishing by serial, and he also details the financial side, keeping careful tabs on what he earned.

It's a sobering assessment for anyone who thinks that a lifetime of novel writing will make them rich. He was more successful than most, but he had to work a full time job at the Post Office most of his life (and on his retirement, showed the hurt that so many do when he discovered the work place, far from falling apart at the idea of his going away, demonstrated that they could do very well without him).

While I, and perhaps other modern readers, will not agree with his assessment of his own works, and why they are good, they will find his honest discussion of his failures interesting.

Of especial interest is his assessment of his fellow nineteenth century authors. He pegs Dickens beautifully for his ability to make you care for unrealistic characters (caricatures, in essence), and comments gently on George Eliot's penchant for letting her philosophizing get control of her plots, making some of her later stories almost impenetrable. (In this he's kinder than Henry James, who thoroughly appreciates her mind, and the insight of her female characters, while pointing out that few of her male characters are ever much more than watercolors, or sketches of ideals.)

He predicts who among the well-known writers will be well known in his grandchildren's time, and who won't, with near 100% accuracy, and he digs his quill into false critics who pander to authors, and authors who pander to critics, and how such a craving for instant fame doesn't work in the long run, even if it garners a flash of fulsome notoriety at the moment. It's peculiar, how much of this translates over to internet interactions, as writers are anxious to get their names and books out there, sometimes pushed into marketing themselves by publishers, without having any idea how to go about it. Writers had the same predicament back then.

At the last, he startles the reader with an anecdote about going out of his way as he crossed the USA to meet Brigham Young, and his being turned from Young's door. In the anecdote Young comes off looking uncouth, if not mad; Trollope finesses his reason for going to call on Young in the first place. There's a definite sense that Trollope regarded Young as a zoo creature, to be reported on for the amusement of people at home, identified as he is as "polygamist Brigham Young" instead of "religious leader Young" or whatever. But again, Trollope is reticent about exposing his inner motivations and emotions. He even comments about that near the end, and declaims any interest in such things.

Reading this in conjunction with the Glendenning biography can fill in some of the lacunae; meanwhile, the writing talk makes it a worthwhile read for writers, and of course for nineteenth century novel fans.(less)

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Jan 18, 2011

Dr. Lin Stepp rated it

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Generally, I like autobiographies and biographies about authors - since I write. But this was a hard book to move through.
Trollope had a difficult early life ... and never seemed to find happiness or real joy in his later life, despite realizing many of his goals.
He seemed like the sort of man who just sort of sucked the joy out of any day with melancholy and over-thinking and negative comparisons.
Naturally, if I were writing a college paper, I know I could have found profound th...more

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May 29, 2007

David rated it

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Shelves: trollope

Why is Trollope considered by many (not by me) to be a notch below other Victorian novelists? I think this book, his autobiography, is at least partly responsible. For in it Trollope demythologizes the profession of novelist. He talks about his businesslike approach to his writing. He regularly wrote 250 words every 15 minutes, and he wrote on schedule. When he was still at the post office (and he stayed there some time even after it became apparent that he would be able to live off his writing)...moreWhy is Trollope considered by many (not by me) to be a notch below other Victorian novelists? I think this book, his autobiography, is at least partly responsible. For in it Trollope demythologizes the profession of novelist. He talks about his businesslike approach to his writing. He regularly wrote 250 words every 15 minutes, and he wrote on schedule. When he was still at the post office (and he stayed there some time even after it became apparent that he would be able to live off his writing), he had a servant wake him up very early every morning so that he could get his writing done before he left for the office. If he finished a novel during a writing session, he began the next without putting down his pen. He did not permit his extensive travel to interfere with this routine; he wrote on trains and on ships.

What about inspiration? Bah, says Trollope. Does the cobbler go to his last and await inspiration before making his shoe? No, he makes shoes, because that is what a cobbler does. And a novelist writes novels, because that is what a novelist does. It is this shoemaker analogy that those who dislike Trollope (usually without having read him) cite. Most readers have a more romantic notion of what it means to be a novelist.

Trollope discusses the business side of writing, too. He invariably sold his copyrights outright to his publishers, never taking a participation in the profits, reasoning that the publisher would flog his novels more determinedly if the publisher received 100 percent of all the sales. And he systematically lists the amount for which he sold each of his novels. Again, not very romantic. But fascinating, if you ask me.

Trollope runs through all the novels he had written, telling his readers what he thought was good and bad about each of them. (Roughly fifteen of his novels are not discussed, because he wrote them after the autobiography.) This is interesting in its own right, but it was also interesting to see how often I disagreed with Trollope about the merits of his work.

He had an interesting life even aside from his writing. His father was a complete failure at the bar, and much of his childhood was miserable because of that -- unpaid tuition bills at his schools, hiding from creditors, even fleeing from them to Belgium for several years. It was his mother, Fanny, who saved the family financially, and with her pen, writing Domestic Manners of the Americans and several (now forgotten) novels.

But Trollope is matter-of-fact, sometimes even funny, about his miserable childhood. And then he begins to blossom at the post office, where he steadily rises in importance, eventually traveling throughout the world to negotiate postal treaties on behalf of England. (I had never thought about how a letter made it from England to, say, Vienna in the days before airplanes. Obviously, though, you need postal treaties with all the countries through which that letter must pass, and those treaties have to allocate the costs of delivery.)

Those travels enabled him to set his novels in places throughout the world. He also wrote several non-fiction books about those travels.

And he writes in his autobiography about his desire to serve his country in Parliament. He tells the story of his attempt to win election from the borough of Beverley. His defeat, and the corruption of electoral politics, obviously took a lot out of him; the pain was perhaps partially alleviated by the subsequent disenfranchisement of the borough because of its corruption.

Trollope left the manuscript of his autobiography in a desk drawer with instructions for his son Henry on publishing it after his death.

The autobiography is immensely fun to read. It would be best if you could hold off until you've read the 30-some-odd novels he had written before he wrote the autobiography. But who can wait that long?(less)

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Jan 24, 2010

Steph Su rated it

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Shelves: own, school

Unfortunately I have to say that I liked Trollope and his works much better before I read this. It is interesting, no doubt--but the man himself is rather unappealing, thoroughly self-important, lacking in confidence, and vindictive. It is more a discussion of his works and his theory on work than a thorough autobiography. Still, of course, it is a must-read for Trollopian fans.

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Aug 13, 2009

Gracegabe rated it

· review of another edition

the interior of this writer is revealed...the wholeness of his life and habits

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Nov 18, 2011

Ange rated it

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Shelves: kindle

Liked the beginning, but after a while I scanned the last.

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Jun 21, 2009

Clifford rated it

· review of another edition

Anthony Trollope is as honest as a man can be. He wrote from the pit of his stomach with all sincerity.

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Sep 18, 2008

Anna rated it

· review of another edition

The guy says at the end of his autobiography that he hasn't tried to illuminate his 'inner life,' and he's not kidding. Still, Trollope's relentless equanimity & sturdy literary insights are worth the bouts of boredom. My advice is to skip the tables tallying how much he earned per book and focus on Trollope's assessment of Thackeray, Bronte, and Eliot.

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Dec 17, 2009

Flora rated it

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Trollope recounts his ideas on the life of a writer. Since I am a devotee of Trollope, the workings of his mind are fascinating. Worth reading if you want to understand good writing.

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May 05, 2007

Laura rated it

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You cannot read this and not be impressed. The man was a machine.

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Feb 07, 2012

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Shelves: lifetime-reading-plan

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Shelves: memoir

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Shelves: classics

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Shelves: autobiography

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Shelves: victorian, part-way-through

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About Anthony Trollope

Anthony Trollope became one of the most successful, prolific and respected English novelists of the Victorian era. Some of Trollope's best-loved works, known as the Chronicles of Barsetshire, revolve around the imaginary county of Barsetshire; he also wrote penetrating novels on political, social, and gender issues and conflicts of his day.

Trollope has always been a popular novelist. N...more

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