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Martyrs to hypochondria and general seediness, J. and his friends George and Harris decide that a jaunt up the Thames would suit them to a 'T'. But when they set off, they can hardly predict the troubles that lie ahead with tow-ropes, unreliable weather-forecasts and tins of pineapple chunks - not to mention the devastation left in the wake of J.'s small fox-terrier Montmorency. Three Men in a Boat was an instant success when it appeared in 1889, and, with its benign escapism, authorial discursions and wonderful evocation of the late-Victorian 'clerking classes', it hilariously captured the spirit of its age.… (mais)
TadAD: Imagine Bertie, Bingo and Barmie trying to organize a two-week boating expedition up the Thames. Conversely, imagine J., Harris and George trying to steal a cow creamer for their aunt. There you have it.
cbl_tn: If you enjoy humorous travel stories, you can't go wrong with either one of these books. Both books include descriptions of visits to the Hampton Court maze.
Enjoying it -- particularly the description of the uncle hanging a painting -- until chapter 7 dropped the N-word out of the blue, which was startlingly unpleasant.
Generally, I dislike Victorian authors. Many, like Dickens, were writing for serialized publication in magazines for which they were paid by the word, and it shows. JKJ, on the other hand, strikes the right balance for a modern audience. His work is just florid enough to evoke an after-dinner conversation with a skilled raconteur. He has a fine sense of how long he can indulge in describing a place before moving on to something happening. 3MiaB is filled with fine dashes of gentle, self-deprecating irony and occasional stabbing wit. One need not be a scholar of 19th century history or literature to appreciate its content. ( )
Mix of real information about the localities they pass through with humorous anecdotes about boating, health, life in general. Pretty light but fun. Some of the anecdotes are genuinely laugh out loud, they're very well told ( )
Avevo letto Tre uomini in barca molto tempo fa, forse frequentavo ancora le scuole medie, e l’avevo trovato molto divertente. Mi fa piacere dire che anche la rilettura è andata bene e Jerome mi ha di nuovo fatto sbellicare dalle risate.
Risate che, c’è da puntualizzare, vi farete solo se vi piace l’umorismo inglese, quel wit che alcune persone trovano irresistibile (tra le quali, manco a dirlo, ci sono anch’io), mentre altre vi guarderanno stranite e non faranno che chiedersi cosa ci si trovi di così divertente.
Se non trovate Tre uomini in barca così divertente, comunque, c’è da dire che, se non fosse stato per l’editore, sarebbe state decisamente noioso (e forse non staremmo qui a parlarne). Infatti, il buon Jerome aveva scritto una guida turistica di ciò in cui ci si può imbattere navigando sul Tamigi, ma l’editore pensò che tutte quelle informazioni storico-culturali fossero una palla e ne tagliò gran parte, regalandoci il romanzo che conosciamo oggi.
Quindi, aspiranti autori e autrici, imparate la lezione: quando un editor vi dice di tagliare, tagliate, perché di solito ha ragione. Le parti turistiche rimaste in Tre uomini in barca sono quasi unanimemente considerate quelle più noiose: non so se lo siano in sé o perché sfigurano a confronto con quelle più divertenti, ma comunque sia date retta agli editor e non liquidateli come quei coglioni che non capiscono la grandezza della mia opera. Potreste pentirvene amaramente… ( )
This has been on my plan to read list for a while and I am really glad I got to it. It's hard to describe, it's just comic in a particular British way that I find very amusing and it made me happy all the time I read it.
Informação do Conhecimento Comum em inglês.Edite para a localizar na sua língua.
There were four of us - George, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and Montmorency.
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Informação do Conhecimento Comum em inglês.Edite para a localizar na sua língua.
I can't sit still and see another man slaving and working. I want to get up and superintend, and walk round with my hands in my pockets, and tell him what to do. It's my energetic nature. I can't help it.
I like work; it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours.
You start on Monday with the idea implanted in your bosom that you are going to enjoy yourself. You wave an airy adieu to the boys on shore, light your biggest pipe, and swagger about the deck as if you were Captain Cook, Sir Francis Drake, and Christopher Columbus all rolled into one. On Tuesday, you wish you hadn't come. On Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, you wish you were dead. On Saturday, you are able to swallow a little beef tea, and to sit up on deck, and answer with a wan, sweet smile when kind-hearted people ask you how you feel now. On Sunday, you begin to walk about again, and take solid food. And on Monday morning, as, with your bag and umbrella in your hand, you stand by the gunwale, waiting to step ashore, you begin to thoroughly like it.
...George, who would not be able to get away from the City till the afternoon (George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day, except Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two), would meet us there.
The case was becoming serious. It was now past midnight. The hotels at Shiplake and Henley would be crammed; and we could not go round, knocking up cottagers and householders in the middle of the night, to know if they let apartments! George suggested walking back to Henley and assaulting a policeman, and so getting a night's lodging in the station-house. But then there was the thought, "Suppose he only hits us back and refuses to lock us up!"
We could not pass the whole night fighting policemen. Besides, we did not want to overdo the thing and get six months.
He told us that it had been a fine day to-day, and we told him that it had been a fine day yesterday, and then we all told each other that we thought it would be a fine day to-morrow; and George said the crops seemed to be coming up nicely.
That is the only way to get a kettle to boil up the river. If it sees that you are waiting for it and are anxious, it will never even sing. You have to go away and begin your meal, as if you were not going to have any tea at all. You must not even look round at it. Then you will soon hear it sputtering away, mad to be made into tea.
Fox-terriers are born with about four times as much original sin in them as other dogs are, and it will take years and years of patient effort on the part of us Christians to bring about any appreciable reformation in rowdiness of the fox-terrier nature.
And yet it seems so full of comfort and of strength, the night. In its great presence, our small sorrows creep away, ashamed. The day has been so full of fret and care, and our hearts have been so full of evil and of bitter thoughts, and the world has seemed so hard and wrong to us. Then Night, like some great loving mother, gently lays her hand upon our fevered head, and turns our little tear-stained faces up to hers, and smilies; and, though she does not speak, we know what she would say, and lay our hot flushed cheek against her bosom, and the pain is gone.
In later years, Reading seems to have been regarded as a handy place to run down to, when matters were becoming unpleasant in London. Parliament generally rushed off to Reading whenever there was a plague on at Westminster; and, in 1625, the Law followed suit, and all the courts were held at Reading. It must have been worth while having a mere ordinary plague now and then in London to get rid of both the lawyers and the Parliament.
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Informação do Conhecimento Comum em inglês.Edite para a localizar na sua língua.
And Montmorency, standing on his hind legs, before the window, peering out into the night, gave a short bark of decided concurrence with the toast.
Martyrs to hypochondria and general seediness, J. and his friends George and Harris decide that a jaunt up the Thames would suit them to a 'T'. But when they set off, they can hardly predict the troubles that lie ahead with tow-ropes, unreliable weather-forecasts and tins of pineapple chunks - not to mention the devastation left in the wake of J.'s small fox-terrier Montmorency. Three Men in a Boat was an instant success when it appeared in 1889, and, with its benign escapism, authorial discursions and wonderful evocation of the late-Victorian 'clerking classes', it hilariously captured the spirit of its age.
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