Offering a woman’s take on life’s preoccupations, Jenny Wren presents her amusing thoughts on matters ranging from love and politics to tea and "Why were such things invented?" Her witty musings also consider children and dogs, alongside such subjects as the town, the country, dancing, and concerts. Published in 1891, these delightful essays offer a humorous insight into the thoughts and fixations of a woman in Victorian England, while many points remain as relevant today as when the book first appeared.
I could relate to these essays so much. I read this in three hours while sitting in a Mccafe nd enjoyed every minute. People around me probably thought I was insane when at certain points I nodded and mumbled a simple "Yup, I know." Plus little sections made me laugh aloud, which also had my fellow cheap cafe haunters scared. Loved it!
This is a good book to read after Jerome K. Jerome's "Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow," as this book was written as a response to Jerome's. Wren is observant, funny, and bitingly sarcastic––which is likely why it's written under a pen name. Short and sweet, and definitely a good read!
I never seem to know how I ought to go about rating such books. They're, afterall, the personal afterthoughts that coincidentally found relief on a page. Nothing was expected from it to impress, stir or even profit. For the author , practice might be the reap for pondering on self-indulgent thoughts in excuse until anything worthwhile emerges to write about. Any reason it may be, it's the author's subjective thoughts written towards subjective topics of importance. An impersonal diary that either resonates with you or not. And that's the hardest thing to describe; a rating that relies solely on yet another subjective take to the mix.
Granted the fact this is a parody of a previously weaved idea, when brought face to face with the original humorous work of Jerome's Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow, one can't help but compare the two and claim the victor. That's what you get your self into for showing overt appreciation. And in that case, writing craftmanship found in the latter revealed like a moonlight view during a misty night. A privilege that shows even in your afterthoughts when you're a professional writer. For Jenny Wren is a pen name and the real author remains anonymous despite her lazy thoughts being a lukewarm speck of the norm and ill-favored additionally in more than one instance where her writing appears chatty than speculative.
Not as good as Idle Thoughts but I still really enjoyed it. A lot of that was probably just interest in hearing from the past but it was very interesting to me. She's really bad at poetry, though.
Superb wit and humour. As fresh & relevant today as when it was written. Chuckling along with Wren. Her piece on her hatred of spiders spot on. You can completely relate to this hidden heroine of humour.
We strive to hide our skeletons under the cloak of cheerfulness, and we entirely disguise our real feelings. Alas, our frailty is the cause it we, form such as we are made of, such we be.