First published more than a quarter of a century ago, this book is still entertaining and insightful. Few other novels can and will have such power.

It’s a 3.5. 3 for overall enjoyment and 4 for general appreciation of the book itself.

The letter format was slightly unexpected and it did seem to take a while for the characters to establish themselves through that particular style, but once the book settled down, the humour and story started to emerge. Although in places it almost did seem more of a guide book to Britain in the late 1700s when the plot started treading water, but Smollett’s writing was decent enough that it wasn’t too off-putting.

Also appreciated how Smollett underscored the human aspect of living during that period, just how downright uncomfortable it would have been at its very best. Something that many authors during and after that time wouldn’t even think to include for being too unseemly.

Overall, I’m glad I read this one. Very much found it to be book of its time and an excellent snapshot of that particular moment of history, warts and all.

An enjoyable mix of romantic comedy, social commentary, and travelogue. Caveat that it's from 1771, early in the evolution of the novel. It's not exactly tightly written: there's not much of a story arc, it's rambling, and it gets a bit long-winded in places. But still fun if you have the patience to go along for the ride.

The plot, such as it is, is romantic-comedy ridiculous, full of absurd attachments, mistaken identities, implausible coincidences, ill-advised pranks, and other questionable life choices. All surprisingly durable elements of the form.

It's more interesting to me as a personal, ground-level view of a period of dramatic change in British history. The union with Scotland was still relatively recent, trade and economic growth were starting to really ramp up, and the cities were growing as centers of culture. The story is told in a series of letters from the various members of an old country squire's family and household as they travel around England and Scotland.

Smollett was a Scotsman who lived in London for almost all his adult life. His parents would have been born in an independent Scotland, and the various rebellions (all that Outlander stuff) didn't die out until he was in his mid-twenties. His characters debate the question of what each country lost or gained by the union, and throughout the book they call out and argue against the prejudices of the English toward the Scots.

The old social order was being upended as the balance of economic power was shifting from land to trade. London and the spa towns were growing as social centers for the country gentry, and successful merchants were buying country estates. Industrial cities were booming, and Scotland was emerging as a center of learning. Squire Bramble, clearly Smollett's alter ego, rails throughout against the crowding and filth of the towns and the wasteful luxury of the nouveau riche. But his young niece and nephew are thrilled by the liveliness and variety of the cities and somewhat less enamored of pastoral charms.

One surprising aspect of the book is how much of the social commentary, both positive and critical, turns out to be about specific, real, identifiable people (including Smollett himself and his hangers-on). Names are elided in the text (Lord C—), but that's apparently a fig leaf against libel suits; the extensive end notes in the Penguin Classics edition not only identify everyone, but often include details of their personal histories with Smollett. So some of what seems like broad social commentary is revealed as personal score-settling.

On that note, I would definitely recommend springing for an annotated edition if you're going to read this. The text is perfectly comprehensible, but a lot of words have changed meaning or fallen out of use in the last couple centuries, and there's a fair amount of regional dialect (as well as some mangling of terms by the less literate characters).

Delightfully comedic and light-hearted, this novel was the perfect pallette cleanser after Tristram Shandy decimated my resolve in trying new things. From a feminist perspective, I have my qualms about how the women were portrayed and discussed, but I still found myself entertained.

3.25 stars. More entertaining than expected.

There's nothing more endearing to me than a curmudgeonly old fart, and I developed a real soft spot for Smollett's tender-hearted, "risible" misanthrope, Matthew Bramble. I found parts of this epistolary novel a little dry, to be perfectly honest, but every time I was ready to give up entirely, Smollett slapped a lil scatological/slapstick humour, or a letter from Win. Jenkins (you'll see what I mean) to draw me back in. I'd read this book again.

Broadening the mind...

Matthew Bramble, hypochondriac and charitable Welsh gentleman with a choleric temper and a humorously jaundiced view of life, takes his family on a journey round Britain seeking benefit to his health. As each member of the party writes letters to their friends, we see the country and its regional customs through their eyes, meeting with some interesting and often eccentric characters, and being witness to some hilarious (and some not so hilarious) episodes along the way. Told entirely through the letters, it is, so the introduction by Lewis M Knapp informs me, “often regarded as the most successful epistolary novel in English”.

Matthew takes a grumpy view of life, especially in the beginning when his health is worrying him. A bachelor, he feels a little hard done by to have acquired a family – his maiden sister, Tabitha, who is desperate to throw off her spinster state, and two wards, Jery and Lydia, children of another sister now deceased. Despite his frequent grumbles about them all, though, he loves them and is mostly kind to them. The family are accompanied on their travels, of course, by servants. The maid, Win Jenkins, provides much of the comic relief – her letters full of misspellings and malapropisms, often ‘accidentally’ apt. Through her, we see the family from another angle, not always complimentary. Along the way, they pick up another servant, the eponymous Humphry Clinker, although it baffles me a bit why the book was given his name since I wouldn’t consider him one of the major characters.

Part picaresque, part travelogue, there’s not much in the way of a plot, although there’s a love story concerning Lydia that runs throughout and pulls the thing together to a degree. However, really it’s not setting out to tell a story – it’s an observation, often satirical, of life in England and Scotland in the second half of the eighteenth century.

This was a bit of a rollercoaster for me. I started off loving it, then it dipped badly to the point where I considered giving up, and then picked up again to a most enjoyable second half. As so often, especially with books from long ago, this is more to do with the reader than the book. It starts in the spa towns of England some years before our beloved Bath of Austen’s day, but still eminently recognisable. Then it moves to London where Smollett satirises the politics, politicians and literati of the day, most of whom I didn’t recognise even after checking who they were in the notes at the back, and I found this section intensely dull. However, the family then heads north, up through England and into Scotland where Smollett (a Scot, of course) discourses on habits, customs and the effects of the still relatively recent Union of Scotland and England. Naturally, I found this fascinating and fun since it’s a subject I am interested in and know reasonably well. I suspect other modern readers would find different parts entertaining and dull according to their own interests and knowledge.

Some of the humour is quite crude, often dealing with bodily functions, about which Matthew the hypochondriac especially seems somewhat obsessed. Times were different too, of course, and some of what was apparently humorous back then seems rather cruel today. The women fall into two categories: young, desperately seeking romance, and foolish; or old, desperately seeking husbands, and foolish. I fear our Mr Smollett would today be called a misogynist, though I expect back then he was simply reflecting the prevalent world view.

However, there’s far more ‘good’ humour than bad. The three main correspondents are Matthew, Jery and Lydia, and they each see the world through the prism of their own age, experience and gender. Smollett is brilliant at creating individual voices for each, and maintaining them without a hitch. To Matthew, Bath is a dreadful place, full of riff-raff and the nouveau riche, and he is deeply concerned about the unsanitary conditions prevailing in the famous spas where people drink the waters for their health.

For my part, I detest it [Bath] so much, that I should not have been able to stay so long in the place, if I had not discovered some old friends, whose conversation alleviates my disgust. Going to the coffee-house one forenoon, I could not help contemplating the company, with equal surprise and compassion. We consisted of thirteen individuals: seven lamed by the gout, rheumatism, or palsy; three maimed by accident; and the rest either deaf or blind. One hobbled, another hopped, a third dragged his legs after him like a wounded snake, a fourth straddled betwixt a pair of long crutches, like the mummy of a felon hanging in chains; a fifth was bent into a horizontal position, like a mounted telescope, shoved in by a couple of chairmen; and a sixth was the bust of a man, set upright in a wheel machine, which the waiter moved from place to place.

To Jery, it’s a place where he socialises with his peers and talks horses. To Lydia, it’s an enchanted place of romance, with dancing and handsome young men galore. This three-way look at places continues throughout the journey and, as well as providing humour, gives a rounded picture of the attractions and downsides of the various places they stop at, while continuing to let us get to know each of the characters better. Tabby and Win write less often, and mostly about domestic matters for strictly humorous purposes, and if I recall correctly, Humphry doesn’t write at all, so everything we learn about him, we learn at second hand.

Like most Scottish authors following the Union, Smollett was writing primarily for an English audience and, as Scott sometimes does at a later period, he uses the Scottish section to try to explain Scottish culture to them, musing on customs, accents, the legal system, the differences between Lowland and Highland culture, and so on. He introduces another Scottish character later in the book, whose discussions with Matthew enable Smollett to show both sides of the Union – the pros and cons – and this is remarkably interesting given our current national obsession with the same vexed questions three centuries on. He touches briefly on the already-developing cultural dominance of England and English in language and literature, a thing Matthew seems to see as positive, leaving me wondering if Smollett did too. The book itself is written almost entirely in standard English of the time, so should present no major problems for a patient modern reader.

I’ve hummed and hawed over my rating for this one. I was highly entertained by bits and bored to tears by other bits. But because I’m reading it as a Scottish classic and enjoyed the Scottish parts so much, in the end I’ve decided to dismiss the London section and the bawdier sections from my mind and give it the full five stars. And a definite recommendation, if for no other reason than to enjoy Win’s mangled language and observations of her “betters”...

DEAR MARY,

Sunders Macully, the Scotchman, who pushes directly for Vails, has promised to give it you into your own hand, and therefore I would not miss the opportunity to let you know as I am still in the land of the living: and yet I have been on the brink of the other world since I sent you my last letter. — We went by sea to another kingdom called Fife, and coming back, had like to have gone to pot in a storm. — What between the frite and sickness, I thought I should have brought my heart up; even Mr Clinker was not his own man for eight and forty hours after we got ashore. It was well for some folks that we scaped drownding; for mistress was very frexious, and seemed but indifferently prepared for a change; but, thank God, she was soon put in a better frame by the private exaltations of the reverend Mr Macrocodile.

NB This book was provided for review by the publisher, Oxford World’s Classics.

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Hmmm. An 18th century epistolary novel. A queer beast. Told in the manner of letters from a mixed bag of characters, this is a challenging but rewarding read.

The vastly different perspectives of our motley crew of narrators generates much fun in itself. I did enjoy the contrasting reflections on Bath. The older Bramble’s, “…the wreck of streets and squares disjointed by an earthquake, which hath broken the ground into a variety of holes and hillocks; or as if some Gothic devil had stuffed them altogether in a bag, and left them to stand higgledy piggledy”; and the younger niece Lydia – “…an Earthly paradise”.

There is a meandering plot of course – with romance, illegitimacy, and some extremely colourful chancers along the way. Yes, there is a challenge with some of the antiquated terms and phrases, but this is a genuinely warm, funny and insightful exploration of the human condition.

A very entertaining start, then about 100 pages in became quite tedious and ended like a take off of a French farce.