January 1, 2020
Before I start my review of this delightful classic, I have to tell you a short anecdote from my teaching life. But don’t worry, it is not really a digression at all, as it is leading directly to the essence of this novel. It actually has more relevance for Tristram Shandy than many of the anecdotes Tristram himself tells in his story. If it is a digression, (which I formally dispute, partly because you can’t really digress before you have begun, and partly because it is crucial for the review’s essential development), BUT IF it should be considered a digression (by the harsh standards of formal review guidelines and rules), it certainly is of the noble Tristram-kind known as a “progressive digression”.
It is also quite modest and unpretentious, as it won’t need any footnotes, and it won’t come with Latin quotes either, or with omitted or ripped out chapters. It will simply be a short introductory tale - setting the stage for the review to come.
Here it is then, without any further announcement!
Anecdote leading to the formal beginning of the review:
I used to teach a very peculiar class for a couple of years. They were known throughout the school for their lively interest in everything and for their almost inexhaustible talent for digression. Whatever you set out to teach them, they took over and formed a lesson of their own according to their curiosity and enthusiasm. You had to prepare for their classes in exactly the opposite way compared to all other groups. In other lessons, you were trying your best to stimulate interest and to engage in interactive discussions to keep the students remotely awake, but with this set of adolescents you had to plan some deliberately, excruciatingly boring elements in order to curb their energies, and to guide them towards some kind of focus. They had so many questions to ask, so many anecdotes to tell, so many viewpoints to argue, that you simply did not get to finish a single chapter in the history book on time. That, of course, is inconvenient as you can’t postpone the assessment of the Grade 8 curriculum to Grade 10.
One day, when I was particularly tired - it was the last period in the afternoon - I lost control of their discussion. Whoever has taught a lively class knows what I am talking about. You realise all of a sudden that you are completely off topic, that there are centuries of history to wade through to get back to the starting point, and that the class machine is running full speed towards the edge of reason. All hands were up, everyone wanted to share opinions and life stories, and I wanted to wrap up and go home. What to do? Slowly, steadily I started to take over the conductor job again, to guide the diverse contributions towards my goal, to rein in the cacophony of voices. We were just about to reestablish order and to close the chapter of the initial digression that had got the unruly crowd started, when one boy raised his hand and threw in another random thought, pointing straight towards new chaos. I finally lost my only superficially kept temper and yelled:
“STOP DIGRESSING FROM THE DIGRESSION!”
From then on, that became a standard saying in the class, a sure card to play to get them to laugh.
Little did I know that they were complete amateurs, compared to the master Tristram Shandy!
While my class just managed to make the analysis of the effects of crop rotation in the Industrial Revolution turn into something as closely related as revolutionary pop songs in the 21st century, Tristram manages to fill 8.5 hours of audiobook time to get born, while eagerly discussing his own nose, noses in general, his Uncle Toby, and the different dogmas of Protestants and Catholics, and several other important topics, including his name and the line of beauty and Don Quixote etc. etc. etc. (and I promise you that those enigmatic “etc” fill several hundred pages!).
He accurately calculates that he won’t be able to finish the account of his life and opinions, as he is spending so much time on a couple of hours that he consistently accumulates years of backlog in his narrative. It runs in the family, as his father set out to write a pedagogical work for him, the Tristopaedia, which never caught up with the growing boy.
While we glimpse quite a lot of Tristram’s family, their lives and their opinions, he is rather mum about his own person, always finding more important topics to talk about. Closing the novel, I know more about the mortality of Trim’s hat and about the amours of Uncle Toby than about Tristram himself. But that doesn’t really matter, for most of all, I know that the modern novel has some work to do to catch up with this experimental classic.
What a pure joy to see the narrator tear the body of the novel open and show the scaffold of it in its artificial randomness. And what additional spice to get bits and pieces of Tristram’s erudition, wit, and sense of humour. Who needs a plot, anyway? Isn’t that more artificial in the end than a long dialogue on the pleasures and pains of dividing a work into chapters?
Do I really need to know the details of a love story when the essence of love is rendered in alphabetical order instead?
“Love is certainly, at least alphabetically speaking, one of the most
Agitating
Bewitching
Confounded
Devilish affairs of life - the most
Extravagant
Futilitous
Galligaskinish
Handy-dandyish
Iracundulous (there is no K in it) and
Lyrical of all human passions: at the same time, the most
Misgiving
Ninnyhammering
Obstipating
Pragmatical
Stridulous
Ridiculous - though by the bye the R should have gone first”
As you can imagine, I could go on and on, from one thread to another, and still not be any closer to starting my review, so I will make a drastic decision, and urge you to let Tristram speak for himself instead - there is no one like him to speak anyway.
Please read his digressions!
They are much more amusing than I can adequately show you. I strongly recommend the audio version, as it forced me to sit still and not digress from the text in the way I might have otherwise, had I had the slightest chance. I recommend having a copy of the book next to you as well, as some pages are more interesting in a visual than in an auditive, not to mention narrative, way.
To keep seated, I employed my hands with yarn as well, spinning my own threads into a warm poncho which will come in very handy when the teaching season starts again, - as will my time with Tristram, for I can’t imagine any lecture that could possibly prepare you better for the digressions of students than the life and opinions of Tristram Shandy!
A superb experiment of a novel, and a unique voice in world literature!
As for my review, I accidentally ripped it out of my Goodreads account and replaced it with this text instead. Sometimes things like that happen, and the original review is in the literary ether together with the missing chapter in Tristram Shandy. To tell the story of all those alternative texts, we would need the help of Borges and his Labyrinths. But that is another story - or two, or three...
It is also quite modest and unpretentious, as it won’t need any footnotes, and it won’t come with Latin quotes either, or with omitted or ripped out chapters. It will simply be a short introductory tale - setting the stage for the review to come.
Here it is then, without any further announcement!
Anecdote leading to the formal beginning of the review:
I used to teach a very peculiar class for a couple of years. They were known throughout the school for their lively interest in everything and for their almost inexhaustible talent for digression. Whatever you set out to teach them, they took over and formed a lesson of their own according to their curiosity and enthusiasm. You had to prepare for their classes in exactly the opposite way compared to all other groups. In other lessons, you were trying your best to stimulate interest and to engage in interactive discussions to keep the students remotely awake, but with this set of adolescents you had to plan some deliberately, excruciatingly boring elements in order to curb their energies, and to guide them towards some kind of focus. They had so many questions to ask, so many anecdotes to tell, so many viewpoints to argue, that you simply did not get to finish a single chapter in the history book on time. That, of course, is inconvenient as you can’t postpone the assessment of the Grade 8 curriculum to Grade 10.
One day, when I was particularly tired - it was the last period in the afternoon - I lost control of their discussion. Whoever has taught a lively class knows what I am talking about. You realise all of a sudden that you are completely off topic, that there are centuries of history to wade through to get back to the starting point, and that the class machine is running full speed towards the edge of reason. All hands were up, everyone wanted to share opinions and life stories, and I wanted to wrap up and go home. What to do? Slowly, steadily I started to take over the conductor job again, to guide the diverse contributions towards my goal, to rein in the cacophony of voices. We were just about to reestablish order and to close the chapter of the initial digression that had got the unruly crowd started, when one boy raised his hand and threw in another random thought, pointing straight towards new chaos. I finally lost my only superficially kept temper and yelled:
“STOP DIGRESSING FROM THE DIGRESSION!”
From then on, that became a standard saying in the class, a sure card to play to get them to laugh.
Little did I know that they were complete amateurs, compared to the master Tristram Shandy!
While my class just managed to make the analysis of the effects of crop rotation in the Industrial Revolution turn into something as closely related as revolutionary pop songs in the 21st century, Tristram manages to fill 8.5 hours of audiobook time to get born, while eagerly discussing his own nose, noses in general, his Uncle Toby, and the different dogmas of Protestants and Catholics, and several other important topics, including his name and the line of beauty and Don Quixote etc. etc. etc. (and I promise you that those enigmatic “etc” fill several hundred pages!).
He accurately calculates that he won’t be able to finish the account of his life and opinions, as he is spending so much time on a couple of hours that he consistently accumulates years of backlog in his narrative. It runs in the family, as his father set out to write a pedagogical work for him, the Tristopaedia, which never caught up with the growing boy.
While we glimpse quite a lot of Tristram’s family, their lives and their opinions, he is rather mum about his own person, always finding more important topics to talk about. Closing the novel, I know more about the mortality of Trim’s hat and about the amours of Uncle Toby than about Tristram himself. But that doesn’t really matter, for most of all, I know that the modern novel has some work to do to catch up with this experimental classic.
What a pure joy to see the narrator tear the body of the novel open and show the scaffold of it in its artificial randomness. And what additional spice to get bits and pieces of Tristram’s erudition, wit, and sense of humour. Who needs a plot, anyway? Isn’t that more artificial in the end than a long dialogue on the pleasures and pains of dividing a work into chapters?
Do I really need to know the details of a love story when the essence of love is rendered in alphabetical order instead?
“Love is certainly, at least alphabetically speaking, one of the most
Agitating
Bewitching
Confounded
Devilish affairs of life - the most
Extravagant
Futilitous
Galligaskinish
Handy-dandyish
Iracundulous (there is no K in it) and
Lyrical of all human passions: at the same time, the most
Misgiving
Ninnyhammering
Obstipating
Pragmatical
Stridulous
Ridiculous - though by the bye the R should have gone first”
As you can imagine, I could go on and on, from one thread to another, and still not be any closer to starting my review, so I will make a drastic decision, and urge you to let Tristram speak for himself instead - there is no one like him to speak anyway.
Please read his digressions!
They are much more amusing than I can adequately show you. I strongly recommend the audio version, as it forced me to sit still and not digress from the text in the way I might have otherwise, had I had the slightest chance. I recommend having a copy of the book next to you as well, as some pages are more interesting in a visual than in an auditive, not to mention narrative, way.
To keep seated, I employed my hands with yarn as well, spinning my own threads into a warm poncho which will come in very handy when the teaching season starts again, - as will my time with Tristram, for I can’t imagine any lecture that could possibly prepare you better for the digressions of students than the life and opinions of Tristram Shandy!
A superb experiment of a novel, and a unique voice in world literature!
As for my review, I accidentally ripped it out of my Goodreads account and replaced it with this text instead. Sometimes things like that happen, and the original review is in the literary ether together with the missing chapter in Tristram Shandy. To tell the story of all those alternative texts, we would need the help of Borges and his Labyrinths. But that is another story - or two, or three...