I shall never forget my first introduction to country life in Ireland, my first day's hunting there, or the manner in which I passed the evening afterwards. Nor shall I ever cease to be grateful for the hospitality which I received from the O'Conors of Castle Conor. My acquaintance with the family was first made in the following manner. But before I begin my story, let me inform my reader that my name is Archibald Green. I had been for a fortnight in Dublin, and was about to proceed into county Mayo on business which would occupy me there for some weeks. My head-quarters would, I found, be at the town of Ballyglass; and I soon learned that Ballyglass was not a place in which I should find hotel accommodation of a luxurious kind, or much congenial society indigenous to the place itself.
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. Noted fans have included Sir Alec Guinness (who never travelled without a Trollope novel), former British Prime Ministers Harold Macmillan and Sir John Major, economist John Kenneth Galbraith, American novelists Sue Grafton and Dominick Dunne and soap opera writer Harding Lemay. Trollope's literary reputation dipped somewhat during the last years of his life, but he regained the esteem of critics by the mid-twentieth century. See also http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthony_...
Anthony Trollope does not always quite get the point of the short story as a medium, but in "The O'Conors of Castle Conor," we have a delightful exception. For one thing, he does not weight the story down with a heavy superstructure of superfluous description. He begins in medias res with his English hero, Archibald Green, stuck in the wilds of Ballyglass, Ireland, without a proper introduction to the local lord, Tom O'Conor, who is a fox-hunting aficionado. What our hero does is join the fox hunt without an invitation, only to find that he is not only welcome, but asked to stay at Castle Oonor.
The whole plot hinges on a pair of dancing pumps, which O'Conor's servant is supposed to fetch from the inn where he had been staying. The O'Conors, after all, have delightful young ladies and not dancing is out of the question. Instead of dancing pumps, the servant brings a pair of huge hobnail boots. The point of the story is how Archibald manages to get through the evening, but you'll have to find that out for yourselves.
This is a most amiable story, full of the author's genuine love for Ireland based on the years he lived there.
Trollope doesn’t normally do short stories and I don’t usually read them. Pretty much a nothing story. Felt like the start of a tale, and I’m not sure whether other books carry on from this. The characters are well written, but nothing really happens.
This short story has to be autobiographical. I can totally see this happening to young Anthony on a hunting trip! Great little story. Trollope has yet to disappoint me.