I am clearly missing something, because many online
reviewers describe this novel as “laugh out loud”, and it has never been out of
print. The lead review in Amazon goes to far as to say “If you don't love this
book, and don't weep laughing whilst reading it, then there's something wrong
with you”. I can’t recall ever weep laughing at any novel, let alone one with
so flimsy an appeal. There is admittedly a whimsical charm to the whole
enterprise, and the appeal to a late Victorian bygone era where the outside
world rarely intrudes is clear. There are however a few points in the novel
where this approach is discarded, and these jar badly. Mostly these are the
scenic descriptions which were the novel’s original premise, (it was
commissioned as a travel book) and they do not fit at all with the tone of the
rest. But there is also a casually gratuitous use of a racial slur – the n-word
– which may have been acceptable in the 1880’s but is hateful now. Possibly
even worse, there is a description of a suicide. I can only assume Jerome
included this distressing scene – a woman falls pregnant without being married,
and, shunned by her family and friends, she finally ends it all by drowning
herself in the Thames, to be discovered by our three men – as a contrast to the
nonsense about frying pans and banjos. Victorians were famously mawkish and
sentimental, so presumably this also seen as justification for this scene, but
to a contemporary reader it is deeply uncomfortable.
So in a way I feel that, as does happen sometimes, I have
failed. Failed to unlock this novel, to find a way of reading it that gives it
some value, the value others clearly believe it to have. Which is of course
nagging me. I was tempted to try to read this as social commentary, a
reflection on late Victorian England, a period of change of course as
technology gathered pace and the lower classes began to find their voice. The
three men are clumsy buffoon, but there are closer to Grossmith’s Mr Pooter, or
indeed Wells’ Mr Polly, that Wodehouse’s much later creations. This is a
confident, relaxed country, peopled by citizens not afraid to assert their
challenge to order – the boatmen for example are very clear that fencing off
backwaters on the Thames is reprehensible, and signs denying picnickers the
right to rest on land adjoining the river are to be ignored – no great respect
for property rights are shown. But in all honesty this remains thin stuff,
nostalgic and comfortable compared to much of the challenging literature being
written elsewhere around this time. So for now I admit defeat – there must be a
reason why this novel remains so popular, but what that is I cannot tell.
No comments:
Post a Comment