The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne (pdf e book reader txt) 📕
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The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, a fictional autobiography of the eponymous narrator, contains—perhaps surprisingly—little 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. Sterne’s 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
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⸺Now what can their two noddles be about? cried my father to my mother⸺by all that’s strange, they are besieging Mrs. Wadman in form, and are marching round her house to mark out the lines of circumvallation.
I dare say, quoth my mother⸻⸻But stop, dear Sir⸺for what my mother dared to say upon the occasion⸺and what my father did say upon it⸺with her replies and his rejoinders, shall be read, perused, paraphrased, commented, and descanted upon—or to say it all in a word, shall be thumb’d over by Posterity in a chapter apart⸺I say, by Posterity—and care not, if I repeat the word again—for what has this book done more than the Legation of Moses, or the Tale of a Tub, that it may not swim down the gutter of Time along with them?
I will not argue the matter: Time wastes too fast: every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen; the days and hours of it, more precious, my dear Jenny! than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to return more⸺everything presses on⸺whilst thou art twisting that lock,⸺see! it grows grey; and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make.⸺
⸺Heaven have mercy upon us both!
IXNow, for what the world thinks of that ejaculation⸺I would not give a groat.
XMy mother had gone with her left arm twisted in my father’s right, till they had got to the fatal angle of the old garden wall, where Doctor Slop was overthrown by Obadiah on the coach-horse: as this was directly opposite to the front of Mrs. Wadman’s house, when my father came to it, he gave a look across; and seeing my uncle Toby and the corporal within ten paces of the door, he turn’d about⸺“Let us just stop a moment, quoth my father, and see with what ceremonies my brother Toby and his man Trim make their first entry⸺it will not detain us, added my father, a single minute:”⸺No matter, if it be ten minutes, quoth my mother.
⸺It will not detain us half one; said my father.
The corporal was just then setting in with the story of his brother Tom and the Jew’s widow: the story went on—and on⸺it had episodes in it⸺it came back, and went on⸺and on again; there was no end of it⸺the reader found it very long⸺
⸺G⸺ help my father! he pish’d fifty times at every new attitude, and gave the corporal’s stick, with all its flourishings and dangling, to as many devils as chose to accept of them.
When issues of events like these my father is waiting for, are hanging in the scales of fate, the mind has the advantage of changing the principle of expectation three times, without which it would not have power to see it out.
Curiosity governs the first moment; and the second moment is all œconomy to justify the expense of the first⸺and for the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth moments, and so on to the day of judgment—’tis a point of Honour.
I need not be told, that the ethic writers have assigned this all to Patience; but that Virtue, methinks, has extent of dominion sufficient of her own, and enough to do in it, without invading the few dismantled castles which Honour has left him upon the earth.
My father stood it out as well as he could with these three auxiliaries to the end of Trim’s story; and from thence to the end of my uncle Toby’s panegyrick upon arms, in the chapter following it; when seeing, that instead of marching up to Mrs. Wadman’s door, they both faced about and march’d down the avenue diametrically opposite to his expectation—he broke out at once with that little subacid soreness of humour which, in certain situations, distinguished his character from that of all other men.
XI⸺“Now what can their two noddles be about?” cried my father - - etc. - - - -
I dare say, said my mother, they are making fortifications⸺
⸻Not on Mrs. Wadman’s premises! cried my father, stepping back⸺
I suppose not: quoth my mother.
I wish, said my father, raising his voice, the whole science of fortification at the devil, with all its trumpery of saps, mines, blinds, gabions, fausse-brays and cuvetts⸻
⸺They are foolish things⸺said my mother.
Now she had a way, which, by the by, I would this moment give away my purple jerkin, and my yellow slippers into the bargain, if some of your reverences would imitate—and that was, never to refuse her assent and consent to any proposition my father laid before her, merely because she did not understand it, or had no ideas of the principal word or term of art, upon which the tenet or proposition rolled. She contented herself with doing all that her godfathers and godmothers promised for her—but no more; and so would go on using a hard word twenty years together—and replying to it too, if it was a verb, in all its moods and tenses, without giving herself any trouble to enquire about it.
This was an eternal source of misery to my father, and broke the neck, at the first setting out, of more good dialogues between them, than could have done the most petulant contradiction⸺the few which survived were the better for the cuvetts⸺
—“They are foolish things;” said my mother.
⸺Particularly the cuvetts; replied my father.
’Tis enough—he tasted the sweet of triumph—and went on.
—Not that they are, properly speaking, Mrs. Wadman’s premises, said my father, partly correcting himself—because she is but tenant for life⸺
⸺That makes a great difference—said my mother⸺
—In a fool’s head, replied my father⸺
Unless she should happen to have a child—said my mother—
⸺But she must persuade my brother Toby first to get her one—
⸺To be sure, Mr. Shandy,
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