The Diary of a Nobody (Book Review)

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The Diary of a Nobody is an English comic novel written by George Grossmith and his brother Weedon Grossmith, with illustrations by Weedon. The book first appeared in Punch magazine in 1888 – 89, and was first printed in book form in 1892. It is considered a classic work of humour and has never been out of print.

In The Diary of a Nobody the Grossmiths create an accurate, if amusing, record of the manners, customs and experiences of lower-middle-class, suburban Londoners of the late Victorian era. The diary is the fictitious record of fifteen months in the life of Mr. Charles Pooter, a middle-aged city clerk of lower middle-class status but significant social aspirations. Other characters include his wife Carrie, his son Lupin, his friends Mr. Cummings and Mr. Gowing, and Lupin's unsuitable fiancée, Daisy Mutlar. The humour derives from Pooter's unconscious gaffes* and self-importance, as well as the snubs he receives from those he considers socially inferior, such as tradesmen.

[Source: Wikipedia]

  * gaffe, noun: An unintentional act or remark causing embarrassment to its originator; a blunder

 George Grossmith (1847 – 1912) was an English comedian, writer, composer, actor, and singer. His brother Weedon Grossmith (1854 – 1919) was a writer, painter, actor and playwright.

George Grossmith, as illustrated in The Idler magazine, 1897

…

I can’t remember now if someone recommended this book or if I just happened to come across it randomly  when searching for free classics for the Kindle. Anyway the title seemed familiar (I’ve probably seen/heard it referred to in various bookish contexts). After reading it, one main impression is that it might be best read as it was first published, in weekly portions. I was amused by the first few chapters, but have to confess I found it growing rather repetitious before the end.

Another thought that crossed my mind was that it’s kind of a 19th century equivalent of a blog. (Or a blog mocking other blogs.)

Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see - because I do not happen to be a ’Somebody’ - why my diary should not be interesting. My only regret is that I did not commence it when I was a youth.

Charles Pooter
The Laurels,
Brickfield Terrace
Holloway.

The Kindle copy I downloaded lacked the illustrations, but they can be found (with the full text) here.

Thinking of other classic British writers, the style reminds me perhaps most of Jerome K. Jerome, whose masterpiece Three Men in a Boat (one of my absolute favourite books ever) was also published in 1889.

However, my thoughts also wandered to The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass aged 37 3/4, by British author Adrian Plass, written about a century later - 1987. A book I found absolutely hilarious when I first read it, and have returned to with pleasure many a time since then. (I was going to call it a ‘contemporary’ equivalent here, and then did some maths and changed my mind… realizing that I may have readers who think 1987 belongs in History too.  Hm!)

Anyway, it never occurred to me before, that Plass might have picked some inspiration from some old classic that I had never read. Now, having widened my own reading experience, this suspicion does suggest itself! – even if I have no hard evidence. (Plass is a Christian writer and his fictitious Sacred Diary is set in a free church context. But other aspects are remarkably similar: Middle aged male diary-writer with wife and one young son of dating age, a few friends coming and going, and a cleverly exaggerated tendency for “gaffes”.)

The Beginning of the End

… or perhaps the other way round?

I never know quite where to start, I still don’t see The End (even if I think it’s getting closer) - and just like both the Edwards brothers (GB and CJ) said this week, all too often “I keep meaning to” … only to find myself doing something else instead…

Can someone tell me what happened to July, I see to my astonishment that we’re almost a week into August already, and no idea how that happened?! I still have things to blog about from the few ‘touristing’ daytrips my brother and I made a couple of weeks ago. Now he’s been and gone a second time and his holiday is over; and so is mine - if I count as holiday the five weeks summer break from going to the rehab pool on regular hours twice a week. (They open again tomorrow. I’ve no complaints about that, mind. Even if it makes my time less flexible, hopefully it will help to keep aching joints and muscles more flexible…)

Last week I spent two days out at the House on my own, emptying wardrobes and continuing my raids in the kitchen cupboards and various drawers etc.

As those were two of the most summery days we’ve had this summer, this may sound like a masochist way of spending them. But that’s really also the best kind of weather for me to be able to go out to the House on my own and get anything done. It can even feel like a good thing on such a day to get up early and take the bus out of town and away from the (presumed) heat of midday in town…

I had the back door to the garden open and kept to “downstairs” work so that I could easily pop outside for a break every now and then.

And I took a camping chair to the very back of the garden so that I could sit and enjoy a view no one has seen for years…. We asked our “gardener” to do an extra job for us this summer, before we sell:

Makes us almost want to keep the place now!

But even if there is some nostalgia involved, the dominant feeling when the day finally comes will probably be relief. Hopefully we’re talking months rather than years ahead now. (The house is not officially up for sale yet but we have a presumptive buyer with whom we’re keeping in touch, and if all goes well maybe we won’t have to look further.)

My brother came down again this past week, and if last time we did more touristing than work, this time it was more work than holiday. I lost count of how many sacks Per ended up driving to the recycling centre…

Did I tell you dad’s motto?

(from dad’s notice board – as if he needed the reminder!)

Every time I’ve spent a day or two out there, I end up throwing away things at home as well when I get back. Partly to make room for things I take home with me (see the first photo) and partly as some kind of magic ritual perhaps. (“I shall not become my parents…”)

This week we continued with dad’s study upstairs and mum’s study/sewing room. Just as I was beginning to think that it seemed as though mum at least must have been a bit more radical about getting rid of old papers at some point in the past… oops, we found a big old box tucked in under a bed… full of old notebooks, diaries, letters… Bridges of Madison County, anyone?? 

The content in that box seemed to be from before mum started dating dad, though. Much to our relief (if also some bewilderment!), most of the notebooks also turned out to just be old schoolbooks. I saved one or two as samples, but felt no hesitation about throwing away the rest. But… there were also some diaries…

What does one do with one’s mother’s diaries?

My own teenage diaries (not that I ever kept one on a regular basis) I got rid of years ago. I had no idea that mum had kept hers – not sure I even ever knew she wrote them. Even less do I know if she would have wanted me to read them or not.

Hesitatingly, I took her teenage diaries home with me and ended up browsing through them yesterday afternoon. I decided to keep only the first one, written when she was 14 (1944). It has some some fun little doodles in it, references to family names I recognize, and lists of books she got for Christmas and her birthday, things like that. The later diaries proved less interesting from family history perspective, so I “let them go”.

In my hall stands a heavy moving-box full of mum’s photo albums from the mid 1970’s onward; i.e. from after I moved away from home. They’re the loose leaf kind so I’m hoping to eventually be able to reduce them to perhaps one binder to save/scan… (Optimistic?)

We also found more documents from dad’s side of the family this week, like the original deeds from when my grandfather first bought the piece of land upon which the house was built, back in 1930; and inventories of the estates after grandma’s half-siblings (those who wrote and collected the old postcards. I hope I’ll be able to devote more time to blog on about them and other family history after we’ve sold the house).

On top of all the “paperwork” we also made some (more) decisions about what we want to keep of china and glassware and such… And so, to make room for old coffee cups and tea cups and side plates, I’ve had to spend the rest of the weekend reorganizing my kitchen cupboards!

So if you haven’t seen me around in Blogland much, now you know why.

Sometimes I read a few blogs on my Android phone without leaving comments though; so I may not be quite as absent as I seem! ♥

D for Diary (ABC-D Wednesday)

Which of the quotes above fits YOU best?
Do you, or did you ever, keep a “Dear Diary”?
(If you did: Do you still have them? Read them?)
If your diary-habits changed – do you know why?

I never kept a proper diary for any length of time; and by that I mean the “Dear Diary” kind, i.e. recording feelings as well as dates and facts. The sporadic attempts I made back in my teens, I decided later in life not to keep. (Never regretted that so far, and I assure you it was no loss to the literary world.)

Somehow, I think I always preferred to have real readers in mind, rather than just writing to myself.  So I wrote letters instead: The principle of “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”. (In Sweden we go even farther and say “more than ten”.)

[By the way – did you know that this proverb refers back to mediaeval falconry where a bird in the hand (the falcon) was a valuable asset and certainly worth more than two in the bush (the prey). I had no idea until just now when I looked it up!]

Even my attempts at just keeping short notes in a pocket diary show a clear tendency to be a typical New Year’s resolution never lasting beyond the month of March or so. Such diaries I have for a number of years back. But whichever one I pick up, I see the same tendency: I seem to be very busy every January and then gradually my life gets emptier and emptier until next New Year! (This, of course, is a poor mirror of Reality. All it really reflects is my diary-keeping habits.)

Considering this, I have to say I’m rather surprised at myself that blogging turned out a very different experience and that I’ve been keeping this up for over three years.

I think there are three main reasons. The first is that it did not take too long until I made contact with other bloggers; and as soon as I did that, blogging became more of a social activity than like keeping a diary. (By now I know that there are more than two birds out there in the bush.)

The second is that blogging is not really like keeping a diary at all. It can be, but it does not have to. If I don’t feel like writing about personal stuff, I can write about something completely different. Or quote someone else ...

… Or just post a picture! The third thing is that my blogging came to involve and evolve my photography as well as writing. And this too as an extrovert rather than just an introvert experience.

So thank YOU whoever you may be who took time to read this! 

ABC Wednesday – D