From the Bookshelf of Boxall's 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die…

Context: Listened to Vol I of this on a boat from Masarau to Kokopo, East New Britain, PNG with the volcanoes of Rabaul in the distance.

Review: I started off listening to this. It took hours to get to the end. But what, in fact, the end turned out to be was simply the end of Volume 1, I had another book to go. I managed to find an ebook version of Volume 2 after a bit of a search. Although I’m glad I read it, boy does Smollet go on… and on… and on.

Peregrine is a young lad who’s virtually abandon

Context: Listened to Vol I of this on a boat from Masarau to Kokopo, East New Britain, PNG with the volcanoes of Rabaul in the distance.

Review: I started off listening to this. It took hours to get to the end. But what, in fact, the end turned out to be was simply the end of Volume 1, I had another book to go. I managed to find an ebook version of Volume 2 after a bit of a search. Although I’m glad I read it, boy does Smollet go on… and on… and on.

Peregrine is a young lad who’s virtually abandoned by his birth family and thrust upon the duties of Hawser Trunnion. Thankfully, Pickle is more than wealthy. In fact, he’s so wealthy, he doesn’t realise how wealthy he really is and, after a louche life at Oxford, sets off on a tour of France and Belgium with which most of Vol 1 is concerned. His “adventures” are just mostly him sowing wild oats. Vol 2 charts the inevitable slide into penury and the predictable restoration of his fortunes on more than one front.

So, the strength of this book does not, in any way, lie in the story. For me, the book was a good read because of it’s wonderful satire of 18th century upper class gentry and Smollet’s ability to turn a phrase. He has a very wry style of writing that is subtle humour at its best. On top of that, there are one or two great characters. Pipes and Trunnion, for me, made the book. The way that Smollet crafts their dialogue, almost entirely consisting of nautical references, is fantastic.

But, as with the Musketeers recently, it was the legacy of the book that took it from okay to good. Smollet simply doesn’t know a) when to shut up and b) when not to include a 200 page side narrative. I kid you not about the latter. I thought I was never going to get to the end of the story a lady tells him. What made it even worse was that this lady, and her interminable story, play absolutely no significant role in the story whatsoever. If the book was half as long, it would be far easier to read.

Smollet’s panache for dark humour kept me going although I was glad when it was all over. I’m not sure how much I’m looking forward to seeing how this compares to Smollet’s other characters, Roderick Random and Humphry Clinker.

In a certain county of England, bounded on one side by the sea, and at the distance of one hundred miles from the metropolis, lived Gamaliel Pickle, esq.; the father of that hero whose fortunes we propose to record.

The soldier's wrath was inflamed by this ironical repetition, the contempt of which his conscious poverty made him feel; and he called his antagonist presumptuous boy, insolent upstart, and with other epithets, which Perry retorted with great bitterness. A formal challenge having passed between them, they alighted at the first inn, and walked into the next field, in order to decide their quarrel by the sword. Having pitched upon the spot, helped to pull off each other's boots, and laid aside their coats and waistcoats, Mr. Gauntlet told his opponent, that he himself was looked upon in the army as an expert swordsman, and that if Mr. Pickle had not made that science his particular study, they should be upon a more equal footing in using pistols. Peregrine was too much incensed to thank him for his plain dealing, and too confident of his own skill to relish the other's proposal, which he accordingly rejected: then, drawing his sword, he observed, that were he to treat Mr. Gauntlet according to his deserts, he would order his man to punish his audacity with a horsewhip. Exasperated at this expression, which he considered as an indelible affront, he made no reply, but attacked his adversary with equal ferocity and address. The youth parried his first and second thrust, but received the third in the outside of his sword-arm. Though the wound was superficial, he was transported with rage at sight of his own blood, and returned the assault with such fury and precipitation, that Gauntlet, loath to take advantage of his unguarded heat, stood upon the defensive. In the second lounge, Peregrine's weapon entering a kind of network in the shell of Godfrey's sword, the blade snapped in two, and left him at the mercy of the soldier, who, far from making an insolent use of the victory he had gained, put up his Toledo with great deliberation, like a man who had been used to that kind of reencounters, and observed that such a blade as Peregrine's was not to be trusted with a man's life: then advising the owner to treat a gentleman in distress with more respect for the future, he slipped on his boots, and with sullen dignity of demeanour stalked back to the inn

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From her habitation they proceeded homewards at an easy pace; and, amidst the acclamations of the whole parish, entered their own house, where Emilia was received, in the most tender manner, by Mr. Clover’s wife, who had provided every thing for her ease and accommodation; and, next day, surrendered unto her the management of her own household affairs.

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