I knew nothing about this book, other than that it was a Punch novel, when I picked it up. I quickly found that the main character was the crux of the book here. Whether I find him funny or annoying clearly influences whether I find the book funny or annoying as a whole.
Why should I not publish my diary? I have often seen reminiscences of people I have never even heard of, and I fail to see—because I do not happen to be a ‘Somebody’—why my diary should not be interesting. My only regret is that I did not commence it when I was a youth.
And there’re layers to it here, like an onion, you know? With Pooter and humor, there is variety.
—For instance, Pooter knows he doesn’t tell good jokes, he accepts this about himself, yet he is happy when he does tell a joke that works for him. It’s kind of the best he can hope for with his limited intellect and social reach. To himself, he is rarely funny, but when he happens to joke it’s the funniest thing ever, and he has to repeat himself so everybody can share his pleasure.
I said: “A very extraordinary thing has struck me.” “Something funny, as usual,” said Cummings. “Yes,” I replied; “I think even you will say so this time. It’s concerning you both; for doesn’t it seem odd that Gowing’s always coming and Cummings’ always going?” Carrie, who had evidently quite forgotten about the bath, went into fits of laughter, and as for myself, I fairly doubled up in my chair, till it cracked beneath me. I think this was one of the best jokes I have ever made.
—To his friends, Pooter is rarely funny, but he’s such a constant, loyal, dependable man that they put up with his lack of humor. He also shines slightly too dimly to get their insults of him, or is so full of propriety seriousness that he will not acknowledge their insults, so they freely insult him to his face with no repercussions, which amuses them. To them, he is mostly just funny as the butt of their jokes.
It was very late when Carrie and I got home; but on entering the sitting-room I said: “Carrie, what do you think of Mr. Hardfur Huttle?” She simply answered: “How like Lupin!” The same idea occurred to me in the train. The comparison kept me awake half the night. Mr. Huttle was, of course, an older and more influential man; but he was like Lupin, and it made me think how dangerous Lupin would be if he were older and more influential. I feel proud to think Lupin does resemble Mr. Huttle in some ways. Lupin, like Mr. Huttle, has original and sometimes wonderful ideas; but it is those ideas that are so dangerous. They make men extremely rich or extremely poor. They make or break men. I always feel people are happier who live a simple unsophisticated life. I believe I am happy because I am not ambitious.
—To Carrie, Pooter is to be laughed both at and with. She loves laughing at the jokes about him, and some of the jokes he makes. But she abhors the funny situations that happen to Pooter, as they usually reflect poorly on her as well. Like when he collapses on the dance floor. And truly, this beautiful relationship is a major highlight of the book—their mutual tenderness, understanding, and forbearance is touching.
Charlie dear, it is I who have to be proud of you. And I am very, very proud of you. You have called me pretty; and as long as I am pretty in your eyes, I am happy. You, dear old Charlie, are not handsome, but you are good, which is far more noble.
—To Lupin, Pooter represents a sort of tragic comedy. He is annoyed by Pooter more than anything, so he laughs at who Pooter is, and what happens to his father. He’s the only one I noticed really kicking his legs up in the air over the misfortunes of his father—except society as a whole, who mostly just laughs at what happens to Pooter. But Lupin also appreciates and loves his father in a way society doesn't seem to.
Lupin burst out laughing, and, in the most unseemly manner, said: “Alas, poor Cummings. He’ll lose £35.” At that moment there was a ring at the bell. Lupin said: “I don’t want to meet Cummings.” If he had gone out of the door he would have met him in the passage, so as quickly as possible Lupin opened the parlour window and got out. Gowing jumped up suddenly, exclaiming: “I don’t want to see him either!” and, before I could say a word, he followed Lupin out of the window. For my own part, I was horrified to think my own son and one of my most intimate friends should depart from the house like a couple of interrupted burglars.
These separate characters help to inform the brothers Grossmith’s view of humor, showing that humor arises from the interactions of people and people, or people and their environment. The brothers further give us examples of humor that offer a broad spectrum read of the subject—am I comfortable with how Lupin treats his father? With how Carrie does? With how his friends do? With how he treats himself? I contemplated these questions while reading this book, and they’re interesting to me.
April 11.—Mustard-and-cress and radishes not come up yet. To-day was a day of annoyances. I missed the quarter-to-nine ’bus to the City, through having words with the grocer’s boy, who for the second time had the impertinence to bring his basket to the hall-door, and had left the marks of his dirty boots on the fresh-cleaned door-steps. He said he had knocked at the side door with his knuckles for a quarter of an hour. I knew Sarah, our servant, could not hear this, as she was upstairs doing the bedrooms, so asked the boy why he did not ring the bell? He replied that he did pull the bell, but the handle came off in his hand.
Who is Charles Pooter? Well, he’s a lower class man who hangs onto upper crust-isms, proprieties. Flights of fancy take Pooter away from what he knows, like when he paints the bathtub red, and yet he thinks that he is above reproach, able to resist anything he doesn’t agree with. For instance, he puts his foot down on seances, eventually. But the reader gets a kick out of his not putting a foot down earlier than he does—five nights in a row at the table seancing before he puts his foot down. Really, he can "resist anything except temptation", to quote another comic work from the period. And this humor was most poignant to me: that which pointed out the difference between Pooter’s view of reality and what reality actually was at the time. I mean, a hundred pounds a year raise is the greatest thing ever to him, and at exchange rates, that’s fifteen thousand dollars in today’s money. That’s a lot! Yet he spends it on a piece of glass for the fireplace, then still buys the cheapest champagne, and pinches pennies everywhere he can. His son Lupin comes into money too, hires a trap, and then gives it up shortly thereafter—confirming Pooter’s thriftiness in Pooter's own head. This perception-reality intersection is delightful. And the interaction with the American journalist seems the most revealing scene to me. Maybe the key to the whole book, or at least this thread of reality and perception within the book. Pooter is revealed as incompetent, and yet appreciative of the arguments the journalist raises. Yet he doesn’t take offence when he is roasted, just when others are roasted. He self-consciously denies a good joke at anothers' expense. Does he realize he is being roasted? Probably. Does his view of himself allow him to feel roasted? Probably. But he will not countenance it with a comment or sink to that level.
He then walked round the table and kissed all the ladies, including Carrie. Of course one did not object to this; but I was more than staggered when a young fellow named Moss, who was a stranger to me, and who had scarcely spoken a word through dinner, jumped up suddenly with a sprig of misletoe, and exclaimed: “Hulloh! I don’t see why I shouldn’t be on in this scene.” Before one could realise what he was about to do, he kissed Carrie and the rest of the ladies. Fortunately the matter was treated as a joke, and we all laughed; but it was a dangerous experiment, and I felt very uneasy for a moment as to the result. I subsequently referred to the matter to Carrie, but she said: “Oh, he’s not much more than a boy.” I said that he had a very large moustache for a boy. Carrie replied: “I didn’t say he was not a nice boy.”
Through my research, there seems to be universal love for this work, after about 1910, and I wonder why. I think it’s funny, of course, but the language and specifics being discussed tend to go over my head. I wish I had found an annotated copy to read my first go around, so I could understand what a scraper is, for instance. The time-gap between when it was written and now is brutal on some of the humor. Most of the arguments I read online point to this book as some sort of literary turning point, some refocusing of literary comedy on normal people, not upper crust assholes. I don’t know enough about literature in the time period, but I do know Chaucer and Shakespeare, and these two old white dudes definitely engaged normal people as characters, even as unreliable narrators. But did they do so in the same way? Yes, and no. No, because Pooter is the narrator of his own tale—I think Chaucer's Italian frame-narrative is somewhat different here. And yes, because these breaks between perception and reality are certainly still present. The wife of Bath, for instance, acts as if reality is different than it is. So, I’m not sure I buy the critical narrative about this book being some watershed for the normal man. But it’s a good book I enjoyed reading and rereading. Even if I feel my appreciation would grow more with more understanding of the context. An annotated copy certainly helps a lot.
Never in my life have I ever been so insulted; the cabman, who was a rough bully and to my thinking not sober, called me every name he could lay his tongue to, and positively seized me by the beard, which he pulled till the tears came into my eyes. I took the number of a policeman (who witnessed the assault) for not taking the man in charge. The policeman said he couldn’t interfere, that he had seen no assault, and that people should not ride in cabs without money.
[In discussion with friends, we came to a conclusion that this book was probably right time, right place. Published at the cusp of the lower-middle class ballooning in size and influence, this likable character from that class became influential. He's full of himself and propriety, and this seriousness is largely poked fun at, yet he's dependable and loyal, traits which reward him throughout the book with a good marriage, a workable relationship with his son, more money, and ownership of his own house. This may influence online arguments for this book being a watershed or hinge point in literary history.]
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