The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne (pdf e book reader txt) đ
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The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, a fictional autobiography of the eponymous narrator, containsâperhaps surprisinglyâlittle about either his life or opinions, but what it does have is a meandering journey through the adventures of his close family and their associates. The book is famous for being more about the explanatory diversions and rabbit-holes that the narrator takes us down than the actual happenings he set out to describe, but in doing so he paints a vivid picture of the players and their personal stories.
Published two volumes at a time over the course of eight years, Tristram Shandy was an immediate commercial success although not without some confusion among critics. Sterneâs exploration of form that pushed at the contemporary limits of what could be called a novel has been hugely influential, garnering admirers as varied as Marx, Schopenhauer, Joyce, Woolf and Rushdie. The book has been translated into many other languages and adapted for the stage, radio, and film.
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- Author: Laurence Sterne
Read book online ÂŤThe Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne (pdf e book reader txt) đÂť. Author - Laurence Sterne
âBut mine, indeed, is a particular caseâ ⸺â
So without arguing the matter further with Thomas oâ Becket, or anyone elseâ âI skipâd into the boat, and in five minutes we got under sail, and scudded away like the wind.
Pray, captain, quoth I, as I was going down into the cabin, is a man never overtaken by Death in this passage?
Why, there is not time for a man to be sick in it, replied heâ ⸺â What a cursed lyar! for I am sick as a horse, quoth I, alreadyâ ⸺â what a brain!â ⸺â upside down!â ⸺â heyday! the cells are broke loose one into another, and the blood, and the lymph, and the nervous juices, with the fixâd and volatile salts, are all jumbled into one massâ ⸺â good Gâ ⸺! everything turns round in it like a thousand whirlpoolsâ ⸺â Iâd give a shilling to know if I shanât write the clearer for itâ ⸺â
Sick! sick! sick! sick!â ⸺â
âWhen shall we get to land? captainâ âthey have hearts like stonesâ ⸺â O I am deadly sick!â ⸺â reach me that thing, boyâ ⸺âtis the most discomfiting sicknessâ ⸺â I wish I was at the bottomâ âMadam! how is it with you? Undone! undone! unâ ⸺â O! undone! sirâ ⸺â What the first time?â ⸺â No, âtis the second, third, sixth, tenth time, sir,â ⸺â heyday!â âwhat a trampling over head!â âhollo! cabin boy! whatâs the matter?â â
The wind choppâd about! sâDeath!â âthen I shall meet him full in the face.
What luck!â ââtis choppâd about again, masterâ ⸺â O the devil chop itâ ⸺â
Captain, quoth she, for heavenâs sake, let us get ashore.
IIIIt is a great inconvenience to a man in a haste, that there are three distinct roads between Calais and Paris, in behalf of which there is so much to be said by the several deputies from the towns which lie along them, that half a day is easily lost in settling which youâll take.
First, the road by Lisle and Arras, which is the most aboutâ ⸺â but most interesting and instructing.
The second, that by Amiens, which you may go, if you would see Chantillyâ ⸺â
And that by Beauvais, which you may go, if you will.
For this reason a great many choose to go by Beauvais.
IVâNow before I quit Calais,â a travel-writer would say, âit would not be amiss to give some account of it.ââ âNow I think it very much amissâ âthat a man cannot go quietly through a town and let it alone, when it does not meddle with him, but that he must be turning about and drawing his pen at every kennel he crosses over, merely oâ my conscience for the sake of drawing it; because, if we may judge from what has been wrote of these things, by all who have wrote and gallopâdâ âor who have gallopâd and wrote, which is a different way still; or who, for more expedition than the rest, have wrote galloping, which is the way I do at presentâ ⸺â from the great Addison, who did it with his satchel of school books hanging at his aâ ⸺, and galling his beastâs crupper at every strokeâ âthere is not a gallopper of us all who might not have gone on ambling quietly in his own ground (in case he had any), and have wrote all he had to write, dryshod, as well as not.
For my own part, as heaven is my judge, and to which I shall ever make my last appealâ âI know no more of Calais (except the little my barber told me of it as he was whetting his razor), than I do this moment of Grand Cairo; for it was dusky in the evening when I landed, and dark as pitch in the morning when I set out, and yet by merely knowing what is what, and by drawing this from that in one part of the town, and by spelling and putting this and that together in anotherâ âI would lay any travelling odds, that I this moment write a chapter upon Calais as long as my arm; and with so distinct and satisfactory a detail of every item, which is worth a strangerâs curiosity in the townâ âthat you would take me for the town-clerk of Calais itselfâ âand where, sir, would be the wonder? was not Democritus, who laughed ten times more than Iâ âtown-clerk of Abdera? and was not (I forget his name) who had more discretion than us both, town-clerk of Ephesus?â ⸺â it should be pennâd moreover, sir, with so much knowledge and good sense, and truth, and precisionâ ⸺â
âNayâ âif you donât believe me, you may read the chapter for your pains.
VCalais, Calatium, Calusium, Calesium.
This town, if we may trust its archives, the authority of which I see no reason to call in question in this placeâ âwas once no more than a small village belonging to one of the first Counts de Guignes; and as it boasts at present of no less than fourteen thousand inhabitants, exclusive of four hundred and twenty distinct families in the basse ville, or suburbsâ ⸺â it must have grown up by little and little, I suppose, to its present size.
Though there are four convents, there is but one parochial church in the whole town; I had not an opportunity of taking its exact dimensions, but it is pretty easy to make a tolerable conjecture of âemâ âfor as there are fourteen thousand inhabitants in the town, if the church holds them all it must be considerably largeâ âand if it will notâ ââtis a very great pity they have not anotherâ âit is built in form of a cross, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary; the steeple, which has a spire to it, is placed in the middle of the church, and stands upon four pillars elegant and light enough, but sufficiently strong at the same timeâ âit is decorated with eleven altars, most of which are rather fine than beautiful. The great altar is a masterpiece in its kind; âtis of white marble, and, as I was told, near sixty feet
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